Drip. Drip. Drip.
It wasn’t quite water. It was too oily, too black, and definitely too slow. Almost like a black liquid mercury. It dripped from something which might be a leaf. They drooped down in long lines from something which might look like old gnarled trees. The needle-like leaves hung with the viscus liquid.
The only other sound was the chanting.
It was almost melodic, but punctuated with deep, resonate notes. Avoiding the drips, the leaves, and the grasping bare branches of tangled brush the chanting grew from a subdued noise.
No longer alone. Now there was one on the left and one on the right, moving in the same direction. All moved together towards the chanting. All avoided what passed for plant life. There was a change in the chant for a heartbeat and then a skip forward.
A circle. A dozen shapes around the chanting thirteenth. A pool of the black viscus liquid in a pool where the chanter knelt. The circle quivered with the fury of the dozen bound. Bound they were. Bound with no will but the man in the circle chanting. Energy they carried slowly began to spool from their forms towards the center.
A drip of blood on the pool of viscus liquid sat atop it, balanced. As the power spooled towards the center, that drop began to glow. The sounds of the dripping echoed. The rhythm of the chant stole any warmth. The drop turned golden.
In a heartbeat, the man stopped chanting and touched the drop of blood to his wounded finger. The golden light and the blood disappeared into the cut and sealed behind him. Around the now almost silent clearing a dozen fury-filled beings began to scream as they attempted to turn into the trees and vanish.
The man stepped up from his pool and water sluiced from his clothes. The pool now a clear water, showing a rocky bottom. The twelve screeched louder, but the man grabbed an almost invisible tether and began reeling the first towards him. As soon as the man touched, silence fell from the one as it vanished, withering into air.
After three, a ring of grass had grown to the edge of the clearing, the trees along the edge turning green, red, yellow, and blue. A ring of bright yellow and white flowers stood along the edge.
After seven, everything within eyesight of the man was bright, green, and sunlight streaked through the clouds, bathing the water droplets on the leaves with an inner radiance.
After the tenth, the final two clung together. The man was forced to pull on both at once. Needing twice the strength when he was at the end of his own. The moon was rising to reflect in the still pool of the clearing when the final two loosed their final cries of rage.
The man knelt beside the pool, letting his hands fall to the ground in front of his knees. He bowed his head, closing his eyes as he contained the darkness. When it rained, the water was clear. The birds sang a song of hope and love.
When the unicorn found him, moss had grown up his carapace to the elbows and waist. The unicorn merely drank from the spring beside him before nuzzling his cheek and bounding away.
Dream by Day 