My Dreamwalker System

Chapter 18: A dangerous bargain

Xander followed like an obedient slave as Mordred entered through the front door, leading him inside the temple.

Torches mounted inside hollowed-out animal skulls hung from the walls, their flames flickering unsteadily in the gloomy darkness. The temple was overgrown with cobwebs, and there were skeletons scattered around every corner.

Despite his repeated attempts to stop, Xander's legs carried him forward. It was as if he was being pulled by an invisible shackle, an unseen force that made him too weak to resist.

A distant roar made the Dreamwalker shudder in terror. It came from deeper inside the temple. Xander felt like he was being led to his doom, but there was nothing he could do to escape.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked as they crossed the pillared hallway and entered a wider section of the temple where the stone floor was covered in cracks.

Mordred paused in front of a stone door that had a demonic face carved onto it.

"Welcome, my lord," a hoarse voice whispered in the dark. The carving's eyes lit up like rubies in the dark, and the demonic face flashed a toothy grin. "Who do we have here? A mortal seeking death?"

"He is a Dreamwalker," Mordred replied. "Let us through, Gamkin."

"Of course, master." The demonic face opened its mouth, its head splitting in half as the two wooden doors parted with a rumbling noise.

A thousand floating blue skulls illuminated the darkness as Mordred walked through the door. It was a terrifying place that reeked of death. The foul stench of rotting corpses and dried blood hung in the air, and a gloomy aura pervaded the darkness.

Xander retched as the unbearable stench made his stomach turn. He somehow controlled his urge to vomit, but the nausea made him dizzy and weak.

In the middle of the massive room was a throne made out of a hundred human hands folded in prayer. They weren't carved out of wood or chiseled out of stone but were made of rotting flesh and bone.

Xander's throat dried up, and his breathing became ragged as he saw some of the fingers still twitching even though the hands had been severed from their bodies.

As Mordred mounted the stone steps and took his place upon his dreadful throne, a ferocious beast leaped from the shadows and rubbed its spiky mane against him.

It had the head of a lion, the body of a tiger, and a long slender tail that wriggled like a viper. There were scales covering its legs and numerous scars on its face. But what made it really terrifying were the sharp black spikes running down its head and continuing along its back.

Fortunately for Xander, the abomination was too busy playing with his master to pay any attention to him.

Mordred noticed Xander staring at the beast and chuckled inwardly. Fixing his eyes on the Dreamwalker, he said, "You have no one to fear except me. My pet doesn't harm my guests and prisoners."

"Which one am I?" Xander asked, his voice reduced to a feeble whisper.

Mordred stood up from his seat and pulled out a severed arm from his throne. He threw it as hard as he could, and his beast went running after it.

Sensing the Dreamwalker's fear, Mordred decided to indulge himself a bit longer. "Why do you think I brought you here?"

"I don't know."

A broad, unsettling smile appeared on Mordred's diabolic face. He looked down at Xander as if he were a little puppy and said, "You are here because you were killed inside a vision."

"So, I really am dead?" Xander asked as if the patent fact had still not registered in his mind. Gradually, his eyes moistened, and his face fell. "What happens now?"

"That is entirely up to you," Mordred answered.

Xander looked at him in confusion and asked, "What do you mean?"

"I mean I will offer you a choice, Xander Nyxon. How the rest of this tale plays out depends on you alone." Mordred pointed one of his swords at the Dreamwalker and asked, "Do you wish to return to your world?"

Xander's eyes lit up with hope as he heard those words. "But you said that I'm dead. Can you really bring me back to life?"

"A part of your soul still remains inside your mortal shell. There is still time to undo your mistakes. All you need to do is ask."

"Please send me back to the real world. Tiva is waiting for me," Xander pleaded, falling to his knees.

"I like your devotion, Dreamwalker. But there is something you must do for me in return."

"I'll do anything!"

The impulsive reply pleased Mordred immensely. He smiled at Xander and replied, "I will send you back to your world, but in exchange I want you to become my herald."

"What?" A shocked gasp escaped from Xander's lips. "I'll do no such thing. You don't belong in our world. I won't help you cross over."

"Foolish mortal! I do not wish to cross over to your world!" Mordred thundered, glaring at the Dreamwalker. "I only want you to serve me like an obedient servant."

"I don't understand. Why do you need a herald if you don't want to cross over to our world?"

Mordred jumped down from his throne and landed right in front of Xander. "I need someone to stop my sister."

"Your sister?" Xander questioned back in utter confusion.

"Shamura," Mordred replied in an ominous tone.

The revelation came as a shock to Xander. The ancient texts always described Shamura and Mordred as bitter enemies, hell-bent upon ruling the Nightscape.

According to the old legend, after a battle that lasted many centuries, Mordred had managed to crush Shamura's army and imprison her inside an abyss. That was how he became the one true master of the Nightscape.

"I thought you two were arch-enemies," Xander said, meeting Mordred's piercing gaze.

"That we are, dear boy. Just because she is my sister, it doesn't mean that I don't despise her with every inch of my being." Mordred's voice turned hoarse and gravelly as he continued. "She wants to lay waste to the mortal world and claim it as her own. If she manages to cross over to your world, she will make it a part of her domain."

"But you sealed her inside an abyss."

"And the Mystics from your world have unshackled her!" Mordred thundered. Trembling with rage, he added, "The one who freed her from her binds was a Dreamwalker like you."

"Moreas," Xander whispered back.

"Yes, that was his accursed name!"

"I'm not like him," Xander replied.

"I know that quite well. It's the only reason I haven't fed you to my pet. But if you refuse to obey, I shall take immense pleasure in torturing you for all eternity."

Xander still had plenty of doubts about this dubious proposal. He didn't understand why Mordred was so concerned about the real world.

"Why do you want to stop Shamura? What's in it for you?" he asked.

"An immortal being crossing over to the mortal world would disrupt the balance and destroy everything that I've created. She is a reckless, self-serving deity who seeks nothing but power. But I'm not like her. I cannot let her plunge my realm into chaos. And that is where you come in."

"I'm just a Dreamwalker. How the hell am I supposed to stop a dark deity?" Xander questioned back. "I couldn't even stop those cultists."

"I will lend you my aid, Dreamwalker. All you have to do is accept my offer," Mordred replied.

As enticing as the thought of returning to his world was, Xander didn't like the idea of serving a dark deity. For all he knew, Mordred had ulterior motives in mind and was planning to use him as a pawn.

"If Shamura sets foot on your world, it will be reduced to rubble and ash. All your loved ones will be slaughtered like cattle." Mordred paused for a moment and then added, "Little Tiva's blood will be on your hands. And all because you were too selfish to accept my offer."

The mere mention of his niece made Xander anxious. Tiva was the only reason he had kept going all these years. She was the only one he truly cared about. And it was more than enough to make him bend his knee before the Lord of Terror. Visit no(v)eLb(i)n.𝘤𝑜𝓂 for the best novel reading experience

"If I become your herald, do you promise to send me back to my world?" Xander asked one final time.

Mordred looked down at him and replied, "You have my word."

Xander took a deep breath and nodded, "Fine, I accept your offer. I am ready to become your herald."