Helena Durain

"Hello, where am I?" Helena shouted, only an echo replied. Her hand found a damp stone wall, and followed it deeper into the inky blackness. After a few minutes a light appeared showing that the hall she was in curved to the right, opening into a small room. Within this room was a chair and a table with a lit candle and a piece of paper that read 'Please have a seat.'   Helena looked back down the hall into the nothing, and then hastily sits down. As soon as she sits a shapeless form appeared in front of her. "You are dreaming right now, but I am in control." A smooth male voice came forth. "I have selected your town to gain my power. I figured it polite to tell the leader when their town has been overtaken."   "W-who are you? This is to real to be a dream. My family will not approve of this. I do not approve!" Helena said firmly.   "Your approval is not needed, Pasha Durain. It has already happened. I will be born in your town." The voice cackled.   "I demand you return me to my home and leave my town." She stood in a huff. A hand solidified before her and seized her wrist. She pulled away and snapped awake clutching her wrist and crying in pain. After the pain and sobbing diminished, Helena began looking at the hand shaped burn around her wrist. 'This town was selected to gain power,' She thought to herself, 'We have been overtaken? None of this makes any sense.'   Later in the morning she walked to the kitchen as she does every morning, getting bows and "Pasha" by everyone she passed. In the kitchen she saw Sherdal, the lead chef sense Helena was a kid. "Morning, Sherdal, What did you make this morning?" Trying to sound happy and awake.   He turned, his normally jolly face was somber, "You would not give us to that evil would you, Helena?" Sherdal's voice almost a whisper, different from his booming laughter. "You are still that little girl that tormented my kitchen staff." A tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped it away. "No, of course not," some joy returning to his voice, "it was a dream anyways. But it seemed so real."   Helena's face blanched, and rolled up her sleeve...
14th of Bandila, Year 1134   The Dreams are still coming. The Dreamwalker, is the one behind the dream. There are some that have come to help with this issue, I do not believe that they are that noble. The Confederacy of The Crystal Flame has people, including my father convinced that they are here to help. 3 days they been here and the dreams have got worse. The one they assigned to me is a...
  A knock came from the door causing Helena to jump. She quickly put her quill and book away. "Enter." She said in her best calm voice. A squat man in metallic grey robes and a blue sash over his neck waddles in and bows. "Arise. What is it Ekingith?"   Ekingith stands "Pasha, your father would like to talk with you now. but I am sure you will not be to happy with what he has to tell you." A wicked smooth smile cracked his lips. "He is in the throne room."   As Helena walked down the hall she was reminded of the last slept, with the help of the Klequin root tea. And the dream she had. Walking down the hall, a chill sweeps over her, as it did now. As she enters the throne room The Dreamwalker was sitting in the throne, laughing. Then the room erupts in a clear flame. Everything burns, the stone melts, rugs turn to ash then the ash ignites anew. The Dreamwalker laughs harder the more the room burns and melts. With an explosion, the doors rip from its hinges and the flame boils out into the city, engulfing everything in the clear flame.   The creak of the doors brought her from her daze. She entered the room and stepped in front of her father facing him, curtsied and took her seat next to him. Franklin stood calling a silence to fall over the jabbering crowed. "My citizens, thank you for coming to this gathering. I know most of us are not getting much sleep as of late, and that is hindering our lives. Alas I have been talking with the Confederacy of The Crystal Flame and the agreed to help us put an end to The Dreamwalker." A roar of joy ripped through the crowd. Another chill ran up Helena's spine. Franklin let is go for a moment before calling for quite. "They are here to rid this city of the spawnlings of the Under One," a woman cries out and faints, two guys pull her out of the room. "My wife, may she rest well with the spirits, was taken by one of these spawnlings not just three months ago," he turn to Helena, "your handmaiden, Stazennis, she was placed here to kill Flantina. Sorry to let you find out this way my dear." A tear rolled down Helena's cheek. "But, Drodsodin of The Flame is here to start the extirpation of the spawnlings."   From behind Helena, a tall, slender, elf with long blonde hair steps forward. "Thank you, Khan Durain," he bows. "We are here to help, to start that off," he raises his left hand, a sea of metallic grey robes flood in and start grabbing people, "the spawnling need to go..."