"U-urgh…" Dustinel groaned as he stirred in his sleep.
He was currently at the edge that separated unconsciousness from consciousness, though being ignorant of the fact himself. In this moment of being in a limbo of thoughts and sensations, the Elf felt like he was in a trance.
Within this state, he saw several of his Elven brethren. He watched how they had been degraded by his current master. He powerlessly witnessed their enslavement with the inability to intervene.
Fear was a shackle, and Dustinel was its greatest prisoner.
'I… I…' He found himself thinking in his dream—unable to wake, but unable to maintain his mental construct.
Soon, he found that everything around him collapsed, and he was buried in utter darkness. He tried crying for help as he descended into the pitch-black night, but no one heard him. No one could hear him because his voice couldn't be heard.
He opened his lips and flapped his gums, but nothing came forth.
