Sleepwalker Revisited

[Alice Tex]

Alice woke up in horrible pain. Her cheek was pressed into the leaves and chilled grass on the ground. Sitting up slowly, gasping from the pain, she looked around. She was in a clearing in the woods just outside of town. Had she been sleepwalking again? She couldn't recall when she’d fallen asleep, or for how long. And why was she in so much pain? It was true that her blackouts were getting more frequent. She would randomly black out at times and then wake up elsewhere. Furthermore, she’d have the same dream every time. The savage hedge-lined garden was ever-present now there in her mind's eye. She assumed it was stress causing these random bouts of sleepwalking. She hadn't been reading her Seer's Cards either, but then again, she hadn't been Reading anyone lately.

"What the..." she whispered. Where had she gone? What had she done while she was there? It was dark. Very dark. Cloudy sky, no moon, and very cold for wearing little more than a nightgown. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn't wearing just her nightgown. She was covered from head to toe in something dark and sticky. It smelled metallic in nature. Her mind raced, praying silently that it wasn't what she thought it was. She hurt all over. There was something hard and cold in her hands. She looked down to find her forged blade in her right hand, her dagger in the other. It was clear she’d done something terrible to some poor creature or person.

She couldn’t run back to the Inn, people would panic, but she had to find out what had happened and where she’d gone. She slowly sheathed the dagger and then the sword. She stood up, using the sword almost as a walking stick as she made her way towards the forge where the light of it still burned bright in the night…a light for her to follow back home. As she approached the forge, two things became clear. Sure enough, she was covered in blood, but now it was clear that it was her own. She was covered in half-healed wounds, some still seeping her crimson life. She set the sword on the Smithing table, and she steadied herself. Sitting down on the nearest bench, she focused what energy she had left to healing herself, sealing and concealing the marks from her attack.

What had attacked her? And why? Judging by the smooth perfectly cut lines in her flesh, she knew it had to have been done by a blade. Closing her eyes for a moment, she tried to recall who had attacked her and why. She couldn’t recall a single thing. She couldn’t even remember how she got to the woods in the first place. It was then that her eyes came to rest on the wicked forged blade. Somehow, she knew it had to be linked to this attack. She’d tried to destroy it by normal means before, but it was soon clear it couldn't be broken except by extreme means. She needed someone who could reduce the damned thing to nothing.

Using the barrel of water at the forge, she washed her face and hands of the bloody mess and wrapped herself in the blanket they kept by the fire, just in case. This should suffice in avoiding prying eyes until she could get back to her room and change her clothes. She grabbed the sword and at once made her way to her room. Once she’d changed her clothes, she immediately began to seek out the man she knew could help her…Serith.