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JASH
This time Scratch had thrown me into the middle of the Battle of Windhelm. Unlike the majority of torture the eldritch creature had made me endure, this one was normal. It was exactly how I remembered the battle going.
I, along with my fellow Imperial soldiers, had to navigate the burning city in order to get to the Palace of the Kings. It would be there that the war ended. Ulfric Stormcloak would find himself at the end of my blade.
My body responded to the needs of battle without a conscious thought. I turned to fight a Stormcloak as Odahviing continued to add to the various fires throughout the city. The scent of burning flesh made my mouth water and I had to remind myself that there were more important things to focus on.
I turned with my blade ready to cut through flesh and a hand outstretched to hurl a spell at any helpless Stormcloaks. Before either blade or spell could find a victim, I found myself pressed into the earth. The soil and air were full of the scent of Earth.
My mind…was my own? Where was Scratch?
My eyes adjusted to being back on Earth as the sun began to set. It was only after a moment that I saw myself surrounded by agents of the Federal Bureau of Control. Their guns were pointed at me as if they could do any damage to seemingly mortal flesh.
I continued to try to feel Scratch in my mind. It was entirely possible that the abomination was hiding himself from my senses. But the longer I tried, the more I was certain that Scratch had left me to my own devices.
And if he was no longer in me…
“Alan Wake!” I screamed as I allowed the agents to place handcuffs on me. “He’s in Wake! Scratch is in Wake!”
Did their minds hear me as clearly as their ears did? Or were they only carrying out actions without listening to a raving lunatic? And what good would it do if they both listened and understood me? Would that merely make things worse?
I yearned to be free and see Alex Casey. I yearned to make sure that Scratch hadn’t returned to its original host. But if I acted on my desires then others could die. So I allowed the FBC to drag me to a cell in the police station.
In the cell beside me was Alan Wake. On the other side of him were the Koskela brothers. While Alan looked beyond exhausted, the Koskela brothers looked pissed off. They went between cursing the bard out in English and Finnish. I leaned against the back of my cell and breathed air that was real.
Even though I was trapped, Scratch no longer tormented me as he was in Alan once again. Yet I couldn’t allow myself to feel any relief from that fact. There were other battles to fight before I could fall asleep in my husbands’ arms.
“Jash?” Alan asked and I turned to look at him. “Are you alright?”
It was as if I could smell Scratch as easily as I could a rotten corpse. There was nothing I wanted more than to answer Alan. But what words would hinder his plan? Which ones would ensure its success?
We were at such a point that the most minor of actions could be considered world ending. Fighting Alduin had come with a lot less risks.
How many times had we been in cells next to each other? How many times had we repeated this conversation? How many times had we doomed reality itself to the Dark Presence?
No one deserved such endless torment.
Though I was able to stop myself from replying with words, I couldn’t restrain my head from nodding at Alan.
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