Dreams danced across her mind like foam driven across a raging sea.
She saw herself arguing with men in white robes, their voices raised in anger, their faces blurring into mist whenever she tried to look at them.
A great battle, tens of thousands of armored men striving against a massive horde of blue-skinned orcs, great half-human, half-spider devils on their flanks, packs of beastmen savaging the knights in their armor. Tall, gaunt figures in pale armor led the horde, their eyes burning with blue flame, glittering swords in their hands.
The sight of them filled her with terror, with certainty that they would devour the world.
“It is the only way,” she heard herself tell the men in white robes, their faces dissolving into mist as she tried to remember their names. “This is the only way. I have to do this. Otherwise it will be forgotten, and it will all happen again. And we might not be able to stop him next time.”
She heard the distant sound of dry, mocking laughter.
A thunderous noise filled her ears, the sound of a slab of stone slamming over the entrance to a tomb.
“It is the only way,” Calliande told the men in white robes.
“Is it?”
A shadow stood in their midst, long and dark and cold, utterly cold.
“You,” whispered Calliande.
“Little girl,” whispered the shadow. “Little child, presuming to wield power you cannot understand. I am older than you. I am older than this world. I made the high elves dance long before your pathetic kindred ever crawled across the hills.” The shadow drew closer, devouring the men in the white robes. “You don’t know who I truly am. For if you did…you would run. You would run screaming. Or you would fall on your knees and worship me.”
“No,” said Calliande. “I stopped you once before.”
“You did,” said the shadow. “But I have been stopped many times. Never defeated. I always return. And in your pride and folly, you have ensured that I shall be victorious.”
The shadow filled everything, and Calliande sank into darkness.