Beneath the gaping hole, which a rabbit dug, lies the fields of jocund lilacs and humming flowers. A place beyond the stench of reality — and man-made atrocities — a place where the rapt sleepers play with lief reveries; A place where lurdans and fantasts dance — a place called Aleph. Amongst the playful cinnamon-laden breeze and euphoric whistles of the tame waft stood Darion and Dismas — two people not of Aleph. Their clothes were dank with musty staleness that ruined the air and their olid sweat that marks their place. The elysian fields of Aleph and its picturesque landscape were distinguishable to their roughened appearances, which disturbs the creatures within it. Their body is the anomaly in this case. Usually, people who tread in these vivid fields were mere thoughts or psyches of those who sleep. Therefore, the place deemed them unwelcome. The unknown treats what it does not know the same as a person would treat what it does not comprehend. That is with either aggression or curiosity.
"Keep your wits about you," Darion whispered to Dismas, aware of the fact that hostile creatures or terrible chimeras might attack them without notice.
Dismas replied by merely resting his hands upon his sheathed sword's hilt.
The ground shook, and the mumbling breeze dissipated as various cacophonies could be heard from afar: the trotting of mounts, the thumping of feet, and banging of cymbals and screech of trumpets. Upon the stout mounds of verdurous grasses, a horde of — what seems to be — playing cards halted from their march towards Darion and Dismas. What followed were faint shouts of a single card that stride back and forth in front of the other cards that paused. Then, caterwauls from the animated cards of red and black echoed among the gales. Soon enough, everyone moved with their horses and trumpets and cymbals, some bearing spears and swords, but most held banners stitched with flamboyant threads of several hues. As the horde of living cards trudged towards the foot of the small mounds, Darion and Dismas sheathed their swords and daggers — wary of this seemingly aggressive display of power. And before they knew it, they were wreathed with playing cards without any discernable face or expression. Yet, the poorly orchestrated dins of instruments and murmurs of these strange creatures never stopped.
"Behold! The Red Queen!" A card roared while the instruments continued to play.
A line of cards slanted to the side and made a path for the aforementioned Red Queen. The Red Queen — bestrode a white moose — approached the two adventurers of the foreign realm. Her head was giant, almost bloated like a balloon, and painted with an unnecessary amount of cosmetics. So much so that her skin looked eerily white as if snow clung tirelessly upon it. Her body was stout and short and extremely lean, or perhaps it looked that way because of her regal attire. Her hips were thin and her shoulders broad. It was all too disproportionate; it is humanoid or similar to a human's anatomy, but the irregular physiology of the Red Queen was unsettling — almost appalling. Darion and Dismas stood their ground, touching their backs towards each other while pointing their blades towards the cards.
"What are you doing in my fields, peasants?" The Red Queen emitted an ear-splitting shrill, which no human could ever produce.
"Our travels does not concern you, we're here by Xydas's will," Dismas spoke rashly. This made the cards gasp and the Red Queen speechless.
"You dare disregard me! You dare speak to me with that tone! Capture them!" The Red Queen rode out after she yelled.
And at this moment, they realized that this Queen is a bane to all. A blind fury lost among the obscuring vividness of the thick, calm floras. Then the instruments played hurriedly as the cards that wreathed them — slowly — closed off the space between them. Darion swung his sword and swept ten cards simultaneously without breaking a sweat. Their lightweight and paper-thin bodies proved to be nothing more than a slightly heavier air. Eerie lachrymal kaleidoscopic fluid coated the animated cards as they crawled to safety. And each second passed, the fluid singed the surface of the semi-reflective cards. Scorching them over time until they become mere dust of crimson and pile stygian powders. Not even ash, but uncanny specks of unknown coarse particles. Meanwhile, Dismas dashed before flinging himself to the air to land at the Red Queen's moose. He kicked the mad Queen off her mount and pinned her down at the powdery remains of her army.
"Move and you're dead," he whispered, pushing the point of her dagger upon the Red Queen's neck.
Indeed, one wrong move, and the Queen will die. For her neck was obscured by an unmovable collar. One slash and her whole head will be decapitated because of its thin feature. An hour or so passed, the field that was once riddled with various bright floras became a dusty expanse filled with crimson and stygian specks. Darion sheathed his blade and approached the Red Queen. The fury in her eyes turned into despair as she heard no dins of instruments or blows of the trumpets or her cards' vox. The cosmetics that obscured her actual skin melted as sweat maddened in every crevice of her body. Her skin was not far off the obscuring hues of the beautifiers she painted. The only thing that it hid was the heinous veins that etched upon her thin pale skin.
"Look, we said we ain't here to lollygag. Now, look around you. We's trying to find the wooden home o'er these flowers. Which way is it?" Darion spoke, squatting beside Dismas while looking at the fearful eyes of the Red Queen.
Then the Queen raised her trembling hands, pointing to the west with her shaking fingers. Darion looked and what she pointed out were trees with macabre descriptions. The branches, even, looked oddly similar to thin, obtrusive hands. And so, he believed, because they were hunting a beast, after all. Not a prince or a princess, a monster. So, whatever lies beyond those ghastly ancient trees might be the place they seek — the wooden shed-like house. Darion walked away, going near the trees.
Dismas, confused if he should kill or spare the Red Queen, shouted, "What should I do with her?"
"The decision's all yours, kid," Darion said as he walked towards the woods.
He pondered on what to do; Whether to set free a potential killer or end it at that moment. Dismas pinned the fearful woman down before reaching a conclusion.
"Off with your head," he said as he decapitated the Red Queen.
His knife tore through her flesh and skin as if she was made out of paper, like her army. The Red Queen died a painful death, it seems, even though he made it quick. Dismas knew this as her head rolled around. And her body writhed as her consciousness flew out of her body. It seemed a cruel way to die, he thought. Dismas stood up and followed Darion while he wiped his bloody hands on his already damp clothes. Even though Aleph is merely a dream, guilt devours him. His virtue to not kill anyone has been broken two times. And for him, that was one too many.