Seeing his magic stamina was recovered just enough to try and numb himself a bit, he did, though the act itself made him wretch when it dropped him even lower in magical stamina than he started.

But he felt it less now.

Troubled, fitful sleep followed, better described as stops and starts of unconsciousness.

In between bouts he pondered. Perhaps this trick was too dangerous?

No. He just had to know its limitations better. This was a simple misunderstanding. It was far too useful to just drop. If yo used a gun wrong it was a hazard to yourself, too, that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth having.

At some point, his tired thoughts melded together into some ephemeral pool of sleep. For the second time since he had gotten there, he slept. Not because he wanted to, but because he was exhausted beyond belief. It wasn't "tiredness" in the traditional sense, but weakness created from pulling too deeply in his pools of energy, both stress and magical stamina.

As dreams are wont to do, he didn’t realize where the line was between surreal and reality, no matter how obvious it might seem upon waking. He was in his office, at home again as though it were as normal as the breeze. It was a late night as always, work sprawled across his two monitor screens like a lazy feline, obstinate, unwilling to stop. He had a meeting tomorrow with a major competitor who had stepped onto one of his copyrights, and they were meeting outside of court to settle. At his insistence; he managed to convince them that it would cost them more in litigation than they’d get out of the end product. A lucky break, since that was completely false.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t work completely without interruption, even if no one else was in the house to actually bother him. Trying to float upwards, he just jerked in place. A heavy dread fell onto his chest. Why couldn’t he…? His face paled as the dread blossomed into panic as he realized why exactly he couldn’t fly… or stand.

He was back home, safe and sound. Where there were no threats, no danger. No magic. No wings.

His heart sank harshly. So it was a dream then. Like he thought back at the start. What did he expect? Sprites? Magic? Monster snakes? Of course it wasn’t real. How could it be? It only made sense… but what a let down.

Maybe he’d get some whiskey while he was at it. He could use it. Gripping the rim of his wheels, he pulled back… but couldn’t move. Right. The lock. Duh.

Reaching down for the wheel lock, he pushed to release it but it wouldn’t budge. Looking down in irritation, the pulsing dread from before exploded back to life, bigger and badder than before.

His wheel lock was held up by hundreds of knots of grass. The same grass that belonged to…

Shaking, Tedrick turned to look behind him. He didn’t want to, but he couldn’t stop himself. Towering over the back of his chair even from across the room at a whole nine feet, the creature that started it all. It was tall and thin, with no head or face to speak of. It was more like a tall, gnarled branch. A total of eight limbs stuck out at odd, asymmetrical angles, each with multiple heavy, knotted joints. All this ended in hands with three fingers, each tipped with a single long thorn. He couldn’t help but note how similar the thorns looked to the ones on the branch he got stabbed by.

Not far below the last arm was a steadily thickening skirt of what looked like dead grass, or maybe wide roots. The same roots that tangled around his wheel lock. The grass/roots parted to reveal what looked like a hole in the wood, like a place where a heavy branch got broken off by a storm. But there was no end to this hole, it seemed to go on forever.

Or at least, went on long enough to fit the snake that came crawling out of the hole. He would know it anywhere; he recognized the dull rainbow of its sharp scales, and the sideways slit eyes, and the four fangs.

Tedrick froze as it slithered and climbed across the roots, gradually making its way over to him. Even as it moved, though, it didn’t stop emerging; it just kept growing and growing from what it reasonably should be.

He couldn’t move away, couldn’t fight back as it moved some of its bulk into his lap, trapping him in place, it’s head hovering in front of his own.

He couldn’t move, until it opened its mouth and that fetid, burning stink hit him in the face.

Something snapped as tears began to well in his eyes.

No.

No. No no no.

Not this time.

Never again.

Never.

The snake lunged as Tedrick ducked to the side, taking a bite out of his chair. Whipping his keyboard and mouse to him telekinetically, he shoved the keyboard vertically into the snake's mouth as it struck again.

Letting out a choking gasp of surprise, it overcame its surprise to crush the keyboard in its mouth. But that was all the time Tedrick needed. The various cords he could reach telekinetically joined the mouse and keyboard as he wrapped the wires around its now closed mouth.

It writhed and fought, but here and now, Tedrick was strong. Stronger than it. Stronger now than anything that would stand in his way.

It wouldn't last long, but it was all the time he needed to buck it off his lap and chest as he shrank and zipped upwards. In no time at all he was back to his sprite form, in shape to fight back.

The snake snapped the wires with a sound between a vicious hiss and the bark of a hyena, hatred burning in its eyes as it stared him down. “Come on then you piece of shit, I’m ready this time,” Tedrick shouted, a plan forming in his mind. Come it did, striking out violently, mouth stretched wide open. This time, though, Tedrick dove right in. At the same time he marshalled the energies within himself as he dived down its throat as it began to close to try and crush him.

In retaliation, he formed an orb of stone around him, covered in thorns of stone that grew and grew. A hole formed in the stone in front of him as blood began to flow from the internal wounds. “You want something to eat? Have this!” he wanted to shout, but it just came out as a roar of fury as he placed the heels of his palms together and pointed them out the hole, the broad surface of his little palms pointing that direction.

Plants grew from around him, flooding out of the hole and down the snake's throat. The vines grew and grew, toxic spikes growing from them as he gave it everything he had. Everything he gave to fixing his wounds. Everything he gave to fighting the reaper. All of that rage, pouring down this monster's throat. He could feel the snake thrashing, fighting. But it was too late. The harder it fought the more it bled.

Time slowed to a crawl until the fight stopped. The snake stopped lashing around, and was still. With a burst of energy, the stone expanded and blew the snake apart from the inside. His room was coated in flecks of blood, except for beneath the snake and the areas it was thrashing, which were thoroughly covered.

Panting as he raggedly drew himself back up into the air, he turned to face the plant monster. “What? You next?” he asked between pants, already plotting how to protect himself if it came to that.

The voice that came forth from the hole the snake's corpse occupied chilled him to the bone. It was the voice of the Norn, tsk’ing at him. “Don’t be cocky,” it spoke with a voice from no mouth, and multiple hisses came from around the room. Looking around there were two more snakes. Then four. Then eight. Crawling out of everywhere he couldn’t see.

The whole room smelled like snake breath. It burnt his nostrils and throat as the room around him seemed to splinter, shatter like a mirror into little pieces floating in place. Like the mirror that brought him here.