Dominique awoke in darkness, his body aching and his mind filled with confusion. He tried to move, but his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Panic set in as he realized he was restrained, his wrists and ankles bound to a cold, hard surface.
"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice echoing in the vast, empty space.
A flicker of light appeared in the distance, growing brighter as footsteps echoed closer. The light revealed a figure draped in dark, tattered robes, a hood obscuring their face. The necromancer's presence filled the room with an oppressive, malevolent energy.
"Ah, you're awake," the necromancer's voice was smooth and chilling. "Good. The ritual can begin."
Dominique struggled against his restraints, but it was futile. The necromancer approached, their face still hidden in shadows, and began to chant in an ancient, arcane language. The air around Dominique crackled with dark magic, making his skin crawl.
"You have been chosen," the necromancer intoned, "to receive a gift. A power beyond your wildest dreams, but it comes with a price."
As the necromancer continued to chant, Dominique felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to see the necromancer's hand plunge into his body, not with a knife, but with dark energy that seemed to tear at his very essence. The pain was excruciating, but he couldn't scream—he was paralyzed by the dark magic.
The necromancer pulled out a writhing, pulsating plant, its roots dripping with dark, viscous fluid. "This is the heart of the ritual," the necromancer said, their voice filled with twisted glee. "A living plant that will bind you to the dreamscape and give you dominion over the dreams of others."
Dominique watched in horror as the necromancer began to replace his body parts with pieces of the living plant. His heart was removed and replaced with the pulsating plant, its roots intertwining with his veins. His limbs were cut open, and vines were grafted into his muscles, fusing with his flesh.
The pain was unbearable, and Dominique felt his consciousness slipping. But the necromancer's voice pulled him back, forcing him to endure the agony.
"You will have the power to invade and control the dreams of others," the necromancer whispered, "to trap them in their worst nightmares, to bend their minds to your will. But you will also be bound to this power, dependent on it for your very existence."
As the ritual continued, Dominique felt his mind being pulled into a dark, twisted realm. He saw flashes of people's dreams—vivid, surreal, and often terrifying. He felt the fear and pain of those trapped within their own minds, their screams echoing in his ears.
The necromancer's voice grew louder, chanting faster and more fervently. The dark magic reached a crescendo, and Dominique's body convulsed as the final pieces of the plant were grafted into him. His skin took on a greenish hue, and his eyes glowed with an unnatural light.
"It is done," the necromancer declared, stepping back to admire their work. "You are now my instrument, my vessel for spreading fear and chaos. Embrace your new power, Dominique. Embrace the darkness."
Dominique's restraints were released, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath. The pain slowly subsided, replaced by a cold, numb sensation. He looked at his hands, now intertwined with vines and plant matter, and felt a strange surge of power.
"Rise, my creation," the necromancer commanded. "Your new life begins now."
Dominique stood, his movements slow and deliberate. He felt different—stronger, but also more alien. The necromancer placed a hand on his shoulder, their grip cold and firm.
"Go forth and spread fear," the necromancer instructed. "Use your power to invade the dreams of those who stand in our way. Trap them in their worst nightmares and break their spirits."
A part of Dominique wanted to obey, to embrace the dark power coursing through him. But another part of him, the part that remembered his friends and the life he had before, resisted. He clenched his fists, trying to fight the necromancer's influence.
"No... I won't do it," he muttered, his voice strained with effort.
The necromancer's grip tightened, and Dominique felt a sharp pain in his chest. "You will obey," the necromancer hissed. "You have no choice. The power within you demands it."
Dominique's vision blurred as the pain intensified. He fought to hold on to his resistance, but it was slipping away. The necromancer's dark magic was too strong.
"You will start with your friends," the necromancer commanded. "Invade their dreams. Show them the true meaning of fear."
Dominique's resolve weakened, and he felt the darkness consuming him. The necromancer's will became his own, and he could no longer resist.
"Yes, master," he said, his voice hollow.
The necromancer smiled, a cruel, twisted grin. "Good. Now go. Spread the fear and chaos that will herald my return to power."
Dominique left the ritual chamber, his mind clouded with dark thoughts. As he walked through the corridors of the necromancer's tower, he felt the weight of his new power and the burden of his master's command.
He would find his friends. He would invade their dreams and trap them in their worst nightmares. And though a part of him still fought against the darkness, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was completely consumed.