'Waiting…..
For me?'
Dean was taken aback.
Regaining his faculties, he drew himself up and attempted to brush the dirt off his clothing, an attempt which was surprisingly successful considering he was in the midst of a psychedelic trip. For a moment, he glanced around and took in his surroundings again, before breathing in heavily.
Purple clouds drifted lazily across a purple-hued sky, violet plains that stretched as far as the eye could see, and water that looked entirely unpotable. In the sky hung seven violet moons, emitting light that washed away all degrees of darkness, providing a dreamy, lilac ambience.
Dean's racing heart slowed to a crawl as waves of violet rays fell gently upon his skin.
It seemed as if, within this otherworldly atmosphere, time had slowed to a halt.
He placed his hand on his chest, and, feeling infinitely pleased that was something he could once again do, stretched out his limbs in exuberant indulgence.
He was himself again.
In the midst of his musings, the robed figure leapt from the rock in a flourish, proceeding along a winding path that cut through the violet plain. Upon first glance, it seemed as if the path proceeded in perpetuity, with no end in sight.
"H-hey, where are you going?"
Stumbling after him, Dean began to tread the winding path.
"Let me say thanks first, at least, for…. whatever it was you did,"
After gaining his bearings, Dean looked more closely at the retreating figure. They wore robes like a vagrant, pathetic things that seemed to just barely cover every portion of skin. Their back was entirely straight, unshifting as they strode forward in lackadaisical advance. Their one accoutrement was a meter long -purple crystal, slung over their shoulder and across their back in the fashion of a sword, and sharpened alike.
"It's no matter - I was called here to safeguard you in the first place."
Without turning, the robed figure's voice arose in a whisper. It was a calming voice, that sounded like shifting sands and reverberated in his ears for long after he finished speaking.
"Then…. where are we going now?"
Despite the surreal landscape stretching before him, Dean felt an unshakable calm settle over him. Glancing around the vast plains, he was struck by a sense of nostalgia.
It felt as if he had been here before.
There was a primal draw to the realm, something that called him to travel deeper.
"There's someone who wants to meet you."
Ever cryptic, the robed figure spoke once more.
Taking his answer in stride, Dean followed along wordlessly.
And so, a robed figure and a human began their journey down the winding road that stretched endlessly before them.
In retrospect, Dean couldn't recall the exact details of their conversations; neither their content, nor their import.
It seemed as if words between the two didn't exist in the traditional sense, but flowed akin to shared thoughts or gentle currents, woven together in seamless unison.
They moved together in sync, a strange and profound harmony that guided their path, and an unspoken bond that felt closer than even the oldest, truest friendships he had ever known.
It was rare to hear the robed figure speak, and when it did, it was soft and calming, more alike to a gentle breeze than a grating voice. Dean felt the intimacy in every glance and gesture - he could read volumes in the silence between them.
Their path took them through the violet-hued nights, where the light of seven moons bathed the land in purple radiance.
Shadows bent and curved alongside them, stretching across the landscape to highlight their path ahead, the entire realm conspiring to help them reach their goal.
The robed figure walked with an effortless grace, a fluidity Dean naturally matched, each step moving them deeper into the realm, aligning their rhythm and breath.
And during the day, a black sun rose, inert and chillingly still, casting no warmth and pulling in the light from the surrounding areas, so that the colors dulled and the edges softened, absorbed into deepening black shadows.
They'd set up camp beneath this inky void, gazing up at innumerable stars.
Dean marveled at the magnificence of the sky -
And the tapestry of night was alive with motion.
Never were there two nights quite entirely alike; the constellations danced across the sky in the most literal sense. Titans of ancient origin, never before seen animals that traveled in leaps and bounds across space.
In rare instances, Dean saw other entities.
Massive, colossal, alive.
Monolithic personifications of imaginary concepts, giant entities that seemed to hold the power of God. They moved through the sky, intent on their varying tasks, though doubtless aware of Dean's presence. Although they never looked directly at him, he had the sense that, through some form of divine perception, he laid within their sights.
In these days, he discovered a kind of peace he'd never known.
He traveled for an unknown period of time - at points, it seemed as if the day would stretch into infinity, and at others, be gone in the blink of an eye.
Alas, there's no such thing as a never-ending banquet.
In an unremarkable stretch of the endless violet plains, they found themselves descending into a natural dip in the land, where the gently sloping fields led them to a hill that rose sharply, stretching toward the miracle sky. From its peak, a strange structure emerged, its purple hue both familiar and alien.
Atop the hill sat a temple, crafted in the style of an 18th century gothic manor, its spires and arches reaching upward as if to grasp at the sky, yet every inch was forged from deep amethyst crystal. Amidst the light of the moons, it radiated an ethereal glow that turned the air around it a darker shade of violet.
Within its shadowed interior, shapes and figures seemed to move, though whether they were real or an illusion was unbeknownst to man.
They had arrived.
At the foot of the hill, the robed figure stopped.
Dean's heart clenched, and anguish rose within him unexpectedly.
He knew, somehow, that this parting was inevitable - though the thought of continuing alone brought an ache.
"Then, before you go,"
Dean spoke his final words to the robed figure in a low and earnest voice.
"Your name. Tell me your name."
He extended his hand, in a simple gesture that felt much too mundane for the circumstances, and immediately felt childish in his attempt.
He expected the figure to ignore it, but instead, he saw hesitation flicker beneath its hood.
"It will be difficult for you to remember."
Its voice flowed like the echoes of countless ages, layered with the voices of many.
Then, in a sudden, deliberate motion, the figure extended its hand, taking Dean's firmly.
A shock of cold spread through his skin at the contact, icy touch that wound through bone and memory.
"My name…"
Before his very eyes, the figure dissipated into the violet dusk, leaving only its voice echoing in Dean's mind like the buzzing of a thousand cicadas.
"Is Zsalasi,"
The name reverberated through him, causing his cells to vibrate on every level.
He mouthed the name wordlessly, committing it to the deepest level of his memory, though a hazy cloud had already begun to form around it, like grappling to remember a long-forgotten dream.
He was alone in the violet plain.
His silent figure remained at the foot of the hill for an unknown amount of time before, with a silent resolve, he turned and began ascending the hill.