Sleep closed in. The stale mildew of the Dalliance drew nearer. And in the space between sleep and wake Walter Barnabus Derleth heard, or did not hear, a small voice that was perhaps not a voice at all.
“What does death Feel like?”
The paralysis of sleep, the forgetfullness of dreams.
“How would it Feel if you lost her tonight, your last friend?”
Tiny red eyes burning curiously from the other side of closed eyelids.
Sleep. But not the fitfull stirring of deep water, or the endless chattering of hungry mouths. The ringing of chimes. For the dead, and the dreaming. Their quality confused, but calm.
The next morning, hastily scribbling a scroll as he walked down the thoroughfare with Kendra and Emilia, Walter failed to notice the three new pieces of paper rolled neatly into in his scroll case.