Surreality. The veil of the deep was pierced, disturbed. As an arrow plunged within the belly of unending oceans unseen, yet felt. Quaking, the reverberations and echoes becoming one, a rippling voice connecting him. The web of strings, a crimson sea of many children, an entire lineage drawn as constellations through the dark of the hidden self, a forestry of roots entangled and meeting within, every branch with their own words; whispers, laughter, crying, screaming. All bled into the caged goblet, the raw fist that united him to this world which still sang with a pulse of lightning and hellfire, an ignition of the flesh, both vessel and lair of the unhallowed spirit. The wolf once enchanted by the illusionist's spell was held by the serpent's ever-winding coils, hysteria that welcomed closer the hangman's noose. End it. Break whole the pieces, rip the chapters; feed them to the candle's judgement. Translate the answers. Bandage the eyeless. Love the warring heart.<br/><br/>Slowly, a recognition dawned; the siren's lullaby named sleep knew an intruder to its realm. A challenging power had introduced its own rules, handing the victim the keys to a full perception which was a familiarity only beyond the reach of slumber. One by one, each sense was unlocked, and it was the pace of breath which coaxed his eyes to open. “A lucid dream.” The observation was quiet to the previously soundless atmosphere, as though it were paused and waiting for his attention. This was the exact case, and the seeming innocence of the setting appealed for his further interest. As was natural for the mage, the first to be searched was himself, and it was a significant move, for in place of his usual attire was something unknown. An outfit of white robes, plain of decoration, its colour matching his hair that fell loosely about each shoulder and gathered at its thickest above his lower back. With a scrutinizing gaze, the material was assumed as ceremonial in appearance; the choice was unusual for his tastes, though the generous length of sleeves earned a basic approval.<br/><br/>A suspicion had grown from the quiet examination of the clothing, and it was not limited to that alone, for the environment was of greater obscurity. The room was lost to shadow, save for an unnatural blue light that reached towards him from beneath a door, seemingly the only entrance or exit from its confinement. With a secondary glance into the unwelcoming dark, the dreamer stepped towards the illumination, expecting to be met with the solidity of a wall and began a search for the handle. It never happened; a mechanical sound travelled through the air, the doorway disappearing into a rectangle of light. It was blue, so blue, overwhelming him, burning into his eyes until he was forced to close them. As soon as both shut, blocking the colour, whispers crept inside his mind and the floor vanished into nothingness. There was no time to react as awareness, sensation and balance were removed, an unexplainable weight at each ankle and wrist bringing him to risk sight again.<br/><br/>Everything had changed. It was alike many scenes witnessed before; a transformation to a recognisable world, but not a wanted one. Restraints clasped at every limb, spiked through flesh to reach within his veins; creating a barrier against the use of magic. This would be enough to sound an alarm for anyone, but what had captured his attention was the skeleton that lurked adjacent to the wooden surface he now lay upon, restrained from any range of movement. It waited as if it had always been there, and peered down at him as though it knew him, its fleshless arms raising a scroll high, its skull rotating left and right as though to read both the parchment and the man at once. The empty black sockets were intelligent in a way that could not be understood, and it felt that they could see within and through anything and everything, for it was not with sight that they looked, but something more. The observed pulled against the unexplained tethers, attempting to discover their strength, and one test was enough. The metal was of such a design that a bear would be rendered docile by it.<br/><br/>“Commence operation. Commence operation. Commence operation.” The jaws of the skeleton warden creaked, the repetitious words halting the man's attempts to break free and drawing a coldness into his lungs, freezing all breath to a pause. In the silence, his mind could find no evidence against what was happening, the lucidity felt to be threatening and commanding itself, beyond him, and something above all was undeniable. The voice... the voice was an exact copy of his own, the same without the slightest of differences. There was no questioning it. A knot had formed in his stomach, tightening, and he swallowed away the taste of sickness that was rising from the passage of his throat. This could not be right; it was an error, and it could be changed. It was his dream, but no matter how his focus shifted from the skeleton, the scene continued. The new location had a likeness to the filthy dungeons he had visited from time to time, and a quick glance to his right revealed a tray lined with a barbarian's favourite tools; the sadistic kind, instruments of anguish that he was familiar with from encounters with executioners, prison guards and fellow pirates. Everything was starting to come together.<br/><br/>“Commence operation. Commence operation. Commence operation.” ... “Wh-what...?” ... “Commence operation. Commence operation. Commence operation-” ... “-SHUT UP!” ... “Commence input.” Their exchange ceased momentarily as he assumed this an opportunity to override and program its demands, however, the impression was false. “Subject file: D-O-G. Scenario: N-I-G-H-T-M-A-R-E. Corrupt sanity. Remove heart. Break spirit.” As if announcing it was not enough, the scroll that had once received the warden's attention was dropped and thereafter removed from view, presumably curling on the ground nearby as the sound of bone contacting with stone followed the skeleton's new interest. It neared him, leaning over the table so its grip descended on his throat, fingers bending together to seize a collar he didn't know was there, the sturdy leather printed with DOG and used to forcefully jerk his head forwards. They were face to face.<br/><br/>“No one! A dog! Bark pet, bark some more! Rabid creature!” There were no words prepared to answer it, for the bewilderment had overtaken him. The out-lash, the exclamations, all could have been coming from his own self. “I control you now. You will rot in this cage, and no one will look for you. You will perish and no one will notice. No one will remember your name. You starve... I will feed you.” The collar was released and his head fell back hard, a rattling laughter striking the air, echoing and ghastly as it parted from jaws hanging and snapping all at once. “You wonder, do you not? I am you; this is what you become. These are your bones...” It was unacceptable. “No no no no no NO NO NO!” More laughter. Playful, now. The skeleton had paced aside, pretending to depart, only to spring suddenly on top of where he lay, its meagre weight impacting painfully on his chest. “Wake. Wake. Wake. Wake. WAKE!” ... “Ssshhhh. You have killed yourself, Murasame. You are these bones, I am you. You believe yourself to be complete, so you see yourself how you believe. Yet? You are dead... the death you so desire is what you are...”<br/><br/>It had moved again, the bare pelvis dragging over his ribs and coming to rest on his forehead as it used his face as a makeshift seat, reaching to claw its touch over the robes, though its intentions remained unclear.  “This is not sleep. I am here to make you understand. I am here to show you what you are. To take away that meaningless tissue. You will suffer no more, you will know a peace, as I take away pieces! Ahahaha~!” ... “There will be more here who come to play, doggy. There will be many games! So many games...”