Mother and Child

This dream again.
No matter which way he looked, wherever he went, he could not escape the horrific scenes of bloodshed and violence swarming the streets around him. A great battle was being waged, and though hundreds of dead corpses lay piled across each other, such that the stone pavement itself had grown red with blood, there was no clear way to determine which side was winning—if there were even sides at all. Screams of agony and terror pierced his ears—not just that of man, but of woman and child also. Wild-looking men set fire to house upon house, barging in and bludgeoning everything that moved with razor sharp swords and spears. The air was foul with the reek of rotting flesh, and even the starlit sky seemed to give no light at all. A crack of thunder gave way to a beating, icy rain, blanketing the battlefield in a translucent mist.
It felt so real.
Suddenly, he heard the shriek of a horse. It shouldn’t have alarmed him, amidst all the other cries and moans penetrating the air. However, this particular shriek he had heard before, and countless times the owner of this shriek had nearly tackled him to the ground—if indeed, it was possible to tackled to the ground in your own dream. Knowing he had little time to ponder the matter further, he instinctively glanced behind him and looked upon the chaos that brewed. He stood before a vast temple, proud and beautiful in the face of the terrible slaughter before it. A maze of buttresses, arches and spires sent it ascending endlessly into the sky, and the pale moonlight cast an otherworldly glow across its marble surface. Despite its beauty, the temple seemed eerily still, as if time itself slowed at its threshold.
The horse shrieked again. It was in sight now—an elegant, white steed, carrying a robed passenger upon it. The passenger was holding something, a small bundle, wrapped tightly in swaddling cloth. The bundle cried out, and instantly he realized it was a baby. Within moments, the steed passed him by, its passenger turning its cloaked head to gaze at him. It was only an instant, but the stranger had a strange, familiar presence. Long, flowing blonde hair, and liquid blue eyes, staring at him in pity. She was a woman. A mother and her child, fleeing the violence and depravity of war. How he wished he could flee with her—to be rid of this rank place, these horrible visions. But just as soon as he had considered giving chase, the woman had fled out of sight, disappearing amongst the burning houses and endless savages and corpses.
He knew what would come next.
Another crack of thunder revealed a shadow looming behind him. He spun around again, and beheld a demon. A black steed, stained red with blood, snorted at him, and on its back sat the very incarnation of evil itself. His skin was like bronze, and adorned with rich, red robes. Hateful yellow eyes glared down at him beneath tangled red hair, and a cruel smirk was set on his lips. He was rugged and savage-like in appearance, but upon his head rested a regal, golden crown. He grunted, and then spoke in a low, moaning voice.
“You there. Child. You must have seen the white horse and her rider gallop past just now. Which way did it go? Answer me, and I may yet spare your life.”
He didn’t want to answer. He knew he couldn’t. He couldn’t betray the mother and her child. They needed him, though he didn’t know why. He firmed his lips, and stared at the dark rider defiantly. The rider laughed.
“Pathetic little fool! You think you can protect them from me?”
He stood his ground. He would not flee. He would never flee.
“I see…you have great courage, child. Your deeds are admirable. But they will not save you. The darkness feasts on the blood of courage and grows strong of it. Tonight, I shall grow stronger by the taste of your own blood.”
Even though he knew it was a dream, and had experienced this same event a thousand times over, it never prepared him for this one, single moment. As the dark rider raised his hand, a torrent of dark energy swirled around him, tormenting him with agonizing pain. The rider laughed savagely, and raised his hand again. The world went black.