A Cold Midnight Visitor

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Book7.png A Cold Midnight Visitor is a book by Hera Wittman. It can be found in the Royal Library in Empo Sar.

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A Cold Midnight Visitor
by Hera Wittman

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Around the time of the Malieran wars, there lived a young Emposian maiden called Clover. She lived in the town of Mirai on Aerath. Clover often had dreams. Strange and puzzling dreams which she could rarely make sense of. Sometimes she dreamt of her mother, who had died near Mirai in battle with the Malierans. In these recurring dreams, Clover could see her mother in the distance. Though as soon as Clover took a step towards her, her mother backed several steps away. Clover would often try to shout to her mother.
"Mother! Mother! Please... I'm here." Sometimes her father, sister and others would join her in the dream, also shouting.
"Nyra!"
"Where are you going, mother?!"
"Please come back!"
But her mother never answered, and eventually the echos of her own voice would deafen Clover, and she would wake up in a cold sweat, terrified.

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Until one night, exactly a year after her mother's death. Clover drifted off to sleep and dreamt again of her mother. But this dream was different, her mother stood before her bathed in white light, her pretty brown eyes seeming to sparkle.
"Clover, my darling daughter". She said softly. "Come closer". But as Clover got closer, her mother began to tower over her, arching her back. The warmth of her eyes disappeared, now boring into Clover, stifling her very soul, and she uttering a terrible scream of pain and sadness. Clover watched in horror as her mother's body began to age before her very eyes. Her clothes and hair withered in the now painful glowing light, her skin melted and ashen white bone flaked through in places. Clover's heart broke as she realised the truth of what her precious mother had become and what had become of her body. She had been robbed of her care, her warmth, her hope, her love. She had become a monster.

The next morning, Clover came downstairs to find her father weeping on the floor of their kitchen. She had never seen him cry before and looking into his bleary, tear—filled eyes, she knew he had had the same dream.