Jano dreamed. The kind of dream which can only be pieced together after several bouts of waking.

He was in his old rope bed, it comforted him until he realised he was alone. He desperately patted the area where Alsace should be, but found nothing but emptiness.

The next thing he knew, he was outside. The skies were clear as he had ever remembered, the sun beating down on the cracked brown dirt below. The Slums were swarming with people. There was pushing and shoving. Street hawkers were perched at the sides, they were flogging whatever they could to the pushing masses.

He was pushed through his dream, like time forcing its way through his mind. He found himself in the Middle, where the streets were packed. It was full of happy, smiling people. They cheered and laughed and broke into spontaneous toasts. All hailing the Emperor and the Empire. Colourful banners of gold and purple were in the process of being hung from opposite buildings. Jano walked among them as a ghost.

In the distance he heard a commotion. Metal clanging against metal. At first, it set his heart racing. The sound reminded him of the plate armour of the Guard chasing him. Soon enough, he recognised that it was musical in nature and he relaxed a little.

Next, he found himself among ancient walls, with expensive art clinging to it. Plush and expensive furniture was set out in the rooms he drifted through. The people who resided here wore elaborate robes, embroidered with various colours and patterns. There were flowers climbing from the feet all the way to the head of the robes. Some had elegantly stitched beasts doing the same.

The music was louder now. Jano drifted through a wave of servants handing out drinks and food to the guests. Jano looked around frantically. He tried to figure out what was going on. He saw a large dining room; there was cake at the top and plenty of servants laying down plates and large metal dishes.

He woke up, but only for a second. The walls of his chambers in yet another of the underground safe houses looked bare in comparison to his dreams. He sunk back into sleep.

He found himself in a massive room, with wooden pews reaching down both sides like the skeleton of some forgotten creature. Hundreds of people shifted in their seats, trying to get a view of something. A central aisle in the middle took hold of his attention and he was a small stream of people walking down it, playing music and throwing gifts to the people gathered either side of the aisle.

Suddenly the noise all stopped and Jano was pulled closer to the front. Alsace stood there, in the most delicately designed outfit he had ever seen. She looked beautiful and even hopeful. Shame and regret and anger welled up inside of Jano. He felt like shouting, but nothing happened. The dream simply carried on. They were in the Palace. This felt wrong.

The noise erupted and a man began to walk alone down the aisle. He was dressed in striking black and white and his matching white hair danced playfully on his head. His eyes however, looked at Jano.

The dream stopped entirely. Nothing else moved. There was no sound, not even the sound of breathing or gentle movement. Only the Emperor kept walking.

Soon enough, he was facing Jano and standing near Alsace. He lightly stroked her face, but nothing happened. No micro movement to give her away. He walked slowly over to Jano.

“So. This is interesting. Is it not?” His voice was commanding but soft.

Jano shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

The Emperor smiled and turned to the room. “This is your dream. Or rather I suppose a nightmare. Do you like how I’ve designed it? I thought a wedding might make you sweat appropriately.”

The Emperor turned back to face Jano. “Do you see now how useless your plots were? I have total control here, I’m even in your mind. Come, let me show you something.”

With those words, they left the great hall. They began to move back through the rooms just as effortlessly as before. Jano began to worry, could he die in a dream? Would he die outside of the dream? Was this really all in his mind? Or had he been pulled out by the Emperor. His mind was so clouded with thought that he didn’t realise when his tour had come to an end.

He was in the dungeon. A body was laid out across a stone table. There were runes set into the great grey stone. Runes which vibrated with power.

“The rest of this was just a concoction. A fabrication of the mind. I thought you’d enjoy seeing how a woman like your wife should have been married, and how she will be one day. In such a small amount of time, I've truly come to think highly of her. She’s everything you’re not. Loyal, interesting, beautiful. Yes. She will have some use yet. Though you will not be around to see it. Traitor.” He spat the last word, as though the rest had been sweet nothings in comparison.

“Please. Don’t. Don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything.” Jano stammered.

The Emperor looked at him with disgust, but then he began to laugh. “You cannot do anything for me. I don’t need anything from you, you little insect. No. I wanted you to witness this.”

Jano was pulled closer to the stone table. He realised it was Dariea who was bound to it, though she was very much alive, she didn’t acknowledge him. He wasn’t even sure that she knew he was there. He didn’t even know if he was.

The Emperor walked over to her and cut a small line across her arm. A trickle of blood ran out. He grasped her with his hand and closed his eyes.

“She told you about the Hollow? Yes?” His words were strained and his voice changed a little. He sounded far away and yet omnipresent.

Jano tried to nod, but the Emperor continued regardless. “I have tried several ways to bring it to bear. Including harvesting power from all three of my cities and citizens of my Empire. It turns out that I needed a strong source of essence from one person, rather than a weak but plentiful source.” Beads of sweat began to build up on his forehead. The Emperor looked to be straining against something.

“See Dariea here is one of the strongest Mages we have ever known. Our kind had a word for someone like her once, though it is long forgotten. She is Incarnate. The embodiment of essence trapped in the body of a mortal. And she wandered right back into my trap, with some thanks for your ignorance.”

He stopped talking and Jano watched the sweat start to stream down his brow. Whatever he was doing was taking real effort. Jano tried to move. He tried to wake up. But he couldn’t.

Slowly a noise began to gather. Like a strong wind, but concentrated directly ahead of him. The Emperor kept tight hold of Dariea’s arm. A column of dark, whistling energy came thundering down from the sky. It raged just behind the Emperor and the table. The Emperor looked to be screaming in pain. As though something was physically hurting him. Whatever it was. Jano didn’t want any part of it. He began to struggle. After all, it was his dream.

The Emperor writhed and wriggled. Distracted. Jano managed to break free and rush toward Dariea. He broke the bindings on one of her arms. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“How did you do that?” He said. The Emperor no longer sounded like himself, but like hundreds of people, talking at once. A flash of shock appeared on his face, though it disappeared quickly.

“It doesn’t matter. The gate is open. It will not be long before the creatures of the dead are at my command.” The face of the Emperor was calm in juxtaposition to his voice. The torrent of energy raged behind him. He gestured to it.

“The gate is open. Let this be a warning to all of those who oppose me. Know this, Jano. It’s a matter of time before you’re here for real. You won’t get away a second time.”

The sound of the torrent of energy was overwhelming. He looked at Dariea, but she didn’t move. Jano screamed against it all.

The walls of his chambers subdued his screaming, but it took several moments more before he realised that he was awake. He panted and shivered, the sweat which covered his body was now cold. Jano lay there, not daring to sleep a second more.