Day of the Worm

Let me tell you about my dreams; they are so real! Each night when I sleep, my dreams prepare me for great things to come, I know that now! I’ve tried to tell others, but they just laugh, convinced that I have created a land of make believe to escape the reality of my life. Sure, I was orphaned when I was a baby. So what if I have been bounced around from one foster home to the next all my life? I can totally see how they could come to that conclusion. But tomorrow, when I am gone, they will know the truth.

Tomorrow is the day that the dreams told me about; “Before the sun sets on your five and tenth year of life, you shall return with hope and salvation on your back and light in your hand. You will return and rid the land of the Worm.” That is what I see every night when I close my eyes. Let me tell you about my dreams.

In my dreams, there's a realm so close to us that only the width of a hair separates the two. Yet they are so far apart that traveling the distance would take a thousand years. It is a medieval realm where science and magic are one. This realm is ruled by six great nations. Castles and villages, farms and towns pepper the land. All live simplistic lives with a hint of technologies both natural and mystical.


The Weapons of the Seventh Altar

In my dreams, I see a beautiful domed temple made from ivory white stone. The temple is the home of the six sacred weapons, one for each nation. They were gifts from their goddess and offered to people for the day foretold, the day of the Worm. The weapons are wielded by the rightful king of each nation; the ones chosen by the goddess. Most revered is the center of the temple where the seventh altar sits. There lay the armor and weapons of the seventh son of a seventh son whose veins run with the blood of a union between a mortal and a god. This child was foretold to be the one that unites the realms in their darkest hour.

The weapon's steel is blue and silver, and the armor is as light as cotton. There's a gauntlet that serves as the warrior's shield and houses a disk that three blades emerge from and when flung, obeys the will of the thrower. After it lays waste to all of its foes, it always returns to its master's hand without fail. There's a mighty sword that was forged from the very essence of life, and is the mortal enemy of rot and decay. It can never be broken, nothing can shatter its blade, and nothing can dull its cut. It is a beacon of light to a land plunged in darkness.

In my dreams, I see a day in which black rain falls from the sky. Viscous, ropy strands of greenish-black tar pour from the clouds. Anything it touches immediately begins to decay and corrode. The arrival of the Worm is heralded by a clap of thunder as his fortress bursts through the clouds. It pierces the land like a dagger upon impact. The castle of the Worm is a jagged and a pointed citadel with bulbous blister-like domes upon it. This is the throne from where the Worm will conquer and reign. The decay spreads from the dark fortress in the form of black mold and writhing masses of tentacles, rotting everything it touches; except for one thing: the dead. Every warlord needs its pawns.


Army of the Worm

The dead are absorbed and used as vessels for the decay to take form. They are the eyes, the foot, and the iron fist of the Worm. The Worm fills its ranks with the deceased and slain flesh of the surrounding villages with a gluttonous appetite. The blisters from the walls of its fortress are then released and its army of decayed and mindless drones carry the smelly, rotting mass into the heart of all six nations. It will plant itself into the ground and become extensions of the mind and will of the Worm. From here it will wage war against every man, woman, and child. It will fight with the decomposing faces of their neighbors, friends, brothers, and sisters.

In my dreams, I see the goddess blessing the six kings from each of the nations before spiriting away the seventh set of armor and weapons from the walls of the vulnerable temple. She hides the items in a place far from the Worm’s reach where they will wait until claimed by the child foretold to come. In a final act of sacrifice, I see the goddess exhausting the last of her immortality in order to open a door of light. She places a tiny infant within the entrance and before closing the door she says with tears in her eyes, “Goodbye, my son.”

It is twenty minutes to midnight, the day of my fifteenth birthday. I sit on the floor and I am trembling with fear. Don't think for a moment I'm trembling out of fear of the unknown or of things to come. I am not afraid of the hideous monsters and vicious creatures I will face. I don’t fear the violence I will encounter or battles I will fight. I am not afraid of the great responsibility that will come at being the savior of my people. No, none of that scares me. Do you want to know what really scares me, what has me filled with fear and dread? What scares me the most is this.

I am scared tomorrow will come and go like any other ordinary day.

Written by KillaHawke1
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