2175 C.E.

XXVI: "The Council of Elrond"

Personal Journal: William Aucaman

08/07/2175

I think I wrote earlier about the longest sleep I've ever had in my life. I think I just had the longest time of not sleeping I've ever had. Ever since I woke up yesterday, I haven't been able to close my eyes without seeing those things again. I don't know how they got into my head but they did. It was like I was plugged into them, a part of their mind, or maybe just the one of them.

It was worst at the start. Cynthia filled in what happened on the outside in my notebook, which I can't thank her enough for. But she had no idea what was happening inside. When that Zaha-Katchem grabbed me, I completely blacked out. I could tell I was unconscious, but I didn't feel unconscious; it was like I was fully awake and trapped in a dream. Or a nightmare in this case.

I heard his voice the loudest, the one that trapped me in there. He was laughing at me. "Look at the human," he said, "The one who thinks he is strong. The one who thinks that his worthless existence is his to live. The one who would resist the gathering storm. Look at him!" And he laughed. And I heard others laughing, quieter, but I could feel their eyes on my skin. The Zaha-Katchem didn't look like they do now, though. They were different somehow. They all seemed more like the thing it turned into when we killed the one in Montana.

There were other things there too. I couldn't see them, but there were whispers of other people in the Zaha-Katchem's mind. One was quite loud; a little girl, who was afraid and weeping to herself in the corner, although I didn't know for sure if there were corners. I wonder if it was Olivia. There was a man, too, who spoke a foreign language, one I didn't recognize, though it sounded very familiar. It might have been Russian. And there was something else, too. This I felt, rather than saw. It was a presence, something malevolent, something dark and wild. At times, it would appear in my mind's eye like a dragon with many heads. It's glance chills me, and I am forced to turn my head away.

I can't write about it. I wish I could, but it was just too horrible. If I can forget that thing and its voice, and its laughing, then perhaps I would be in a much better place.

Then there were the other visions. When I woke up, I was desperate and afraid. I had just witnessed it, and I woke before it was over. I've been in bedrest since then, and the doctor, a pleasant man named Dr. Babatunde, asked that I not be stressed. But Cynthia told me about the start of a war with the Novans and the Grushan. I wonder if that is what I saw in my dream.

Cynthia has been a greater help to me than any medicine could have been. While I was awake and trembling with fear over the night, she stayed up with me. Adrian tried, but he fell asleep in the corner. I can't say I blame him; it was a long night. But Cynthia stayed up the whole time. I drifted off once or twice, but every time I did, I saw them again and woke up in a cold sweat. But she stayed with me. She is made of sterner stuff than I could even imagine; she's gone through this same sort of thing, back in the prison cell, only it was a waking terror for her. She's lost everything she ever knew and loved. Her sister is comatose, her home is ash, her parents and her friends have betrayed her, and she's had to run from the Interlink, the Hegemony, and everything else she's ever known to Africa. And she stayed awake to help me through my fears. My own brother couldn't do as much. She's made of steel; she has to be.

When I asked her why, she just said, "You need someone now. And you were there for me." If I had a quarter of her strength, I could take on the black ship myself.

At least, maybe when the fear subsides.

Personal Communication: From Ambassador Dumarith: To Praetor Almarith: 08/08/2175: Translated by Rezhmarizh

My Lord Praetor,