Awakening Again

The eternal blanket of sweet, unbroken relief guides you along your woeful respite. Truly at peace, you must be, to finally be given the time, patience and respect that affords a forged blade their reluctant, contemplative quest for absolution.
The mane unfurls, and a new sensation drifts in under a familiar wisp of life.
Atonia lifts her heavy head up and away from your side. Like a startled companion; something is wrong.
More, the shadows turn away from you, neglecting your repose. Their comforting weight no longer shielding you from the blooming crisis on the horizon.
Restless and Uneasy, you surface from your slumber.

Reaching down to manipulate the stone beneath you, the bricks are worn and brittle from what appears to be a century of decay. Overgrowth litters your territory, as it should, yet your bed of timeless content remains yield to the curious foliage.
"Why?" you whisper steadily to nobody, but perhaps the timeless not-warm bosom of a tyrant's sanctuary.

As your eyes continue to thaw from their dip into the bottomless retreat, a new dilemma unfolds. Four great walls surround your grounds. Built high like a castle, but to the dismay of a judicator; unworthy of such patronage.
"Why?" you speak aloud, rustling the tendrils of fur that cling gently to your form. The wind shifts, and your entire body understands.
There it is again, that unfamiliar scent. An ember? Though not burning. A poison? Though not sickening.

You turn your head towards the breeze. Below the gray, rolling waves above you, lies a dark, sinister twist in the path of the storm.

"That's why."

You step away from your garden, and toward the unknown dominion assailing the heavens. Like roots of a tree, it spreads through the sky, familiar like vegetation, but brings no sustenance or nourishment. Swelling like rogue ripples of a horrible leakage, breaking through the natural order, it must be stopped. This you know.

It must be stopped.