Ascendants of Ancients Sovereign - By Phillip Jones Page 0,10

for a brief moment, Shalee felt a sense of serenity. The woman’s face exuded kindness, safety, and it was the only part of her vision that offered a feeling of solace. “I’m here for you, Child. Worry not,” she comforted.

As the battle between both leaders magnified, their armies cheered, but their voices could not be heard. The sounds of of what should have been cries for blood were captured by smoke that billowed out of their mouths and rose into the air like fog.

With the intensity of the battle escalating, the dreamscape changed. Worlds were destroyed and stars were extinguished. The fury of the fight left all life expelled in its wake. Utter despair settled across this alien plane of existence, and there seemed to be no end in sight to the devastation.

Shalee could no longer watch. In her grief, she cried out for the combatants to stop. Without regard for her safety, she stepped forward to intervene, but the result was tragic. Shalee was unable to utter a single word before the blade of the gray-faced leader inadvertently sliced her in thirds during a whirlwind of strikes intended to end his enemy.

Startled by her impending demise, Shalee sat up in bed as she screamed in a panic. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!”

Her blanket was laying on the floor. Sweat had saturated her pajamas, and her breathing was erratic. As the air conditioning attacked the moisture on her skin, a chill washed over her. She grabbed her pillow and wiped the moisture from her face and every other part of her skin that was exposed. “That’s the worst one yet,” she shuddered. “That poor angel. Wait a minute ... poor me.” She reached up to see if her neck was bleeding. It was. “What the...?” she blurted. “How?”

With no answer to her question in sight, she focused on slowing her pulse. She swung her legs over the side of her bed and slipped her feet into a pair of soft, pink, bunny slippers that she had kicked off beside the nightstand. Lifting her arms behind her head to catch her breath, it took a minute before her breathing returned to normal.

It had been more than six months since the nightmares began, and her therapist was stumped as to why her mind was taking her on these horrific trips. But tonight’s nightmare was so much worse than the others. Everything felt so real, but how? Why did I switch bodies with the angel? Am I connected to her somehow? she questioned as she pulled out a tissue from her nightstand and dabbed it against her neck.

A long period of silence passed as she continued to dissect the dream. I wonder who the old woman is. I’ve seen her before. Why does she keep showing up?

Shalee stood from the bed, stretched her arms, and arched her back. No relief, at least not like it normally gave. She lowered her arms and looked across the room into the dresser mirror. A frosty breath filled the air as it escaped her lips. “Brrrrrr,” she shivered as she stared at the goose bumps on her arms.

She stepped toward the mirror and looked at the reflection of her neck. Nothing—not even a scratch. She looked down at the tissue. It was still white. There was no blood on it. What in tarnation? she thought. I must be losing it.

After a moment, she laughed to expel her anxiety and spoke to her reflection. “What’s wrong with you, girl? Why are you acting this way? Pull yourself together. Go turn off the air, and get your butt back to bed. We’ve got one heck of a day tomorrow.” She reached out to the mirror and slapped at the reflection of her hand. “High-five, oh yeah.” A sassy wink followed.

Shalee turned to saunter across the room. As she did, her reflection did not mimic her actions. Instead, the image in the mirror scowled as she walked toward the door.

“Happy birthday,” the being hissed as its eyes turned red and its teeth elongated to sharp points. “This is the Peak of your harvest,” the being added. “Apparently you’re necessary. So be it.” The image in the mirror turned and walked toward the reflection of the door just as Shalee had done and vanished before it exited the room.

Oblivious to the presence, all Shalee wanted was a drink of water before she headed back to bed. Passing the thermostat, she turned off the air and entered the kitchen.

When she designed the home, Shalee had created