Author's Note: Thanks to CarrotsGoMeow for editing and proofreading suggestions.
In the depths of sleep I found myself lying on the white beach as the black tide roared, staring up at the empty sky. The one eyed Arab came to stand over me, that evil grin somehow even wider upon his vile face.
"Your first venture was a success beyond my wildest dreams," the Arab said. "You have brought me a true beauty, many thanks my friend."
I was too weak to curse the fiend for having stolen my will and turned me into a monster. I vaguely remembered that I had to do this 3 more times. My soul despaired but I was powerless as the Arab gave me my next instructions.
"I require a woman of breeding and lineage," the Arab said. "My masters enjoy taming women of power and privilege, especially the women of this arrogant country. I had hoped to claim a female of your line for this. But all fate has left the Inkwells with is a wretch like you. Find me a suitable beauty to pair with the exotic wonder you have just brought me."
"It will be done," I said. I could no longer separate my own will from that of whatever entity had invaded me.
The Arab nodded and the beach slowly faded away as I was sent back to the waking nightmare that was my life.
I awoke at dusk the next day, feeling a thousand years old. I staggered from my bed and made my way to the west wing, hoping that this was all a nightmare, or at the very least that I still had a chance to rescue the woman I had so cruelly taken.
But my hopes were dashed on both accounts. Great Aunt Agatha's room was as clean and fresh as it had been the night before, and now empty. I could still faintly smell the fragrance of Merilyn's hair in the room.
I wanted to wail, to scream at the universe for having trapped me in such a cruel reality. But the walk to the west wing had taken all the strength I had. I collapsed on the bed and passed out, wondering what new terrors I would visit upon Waitwich that night.
I was outside again, waiting for the carriage to carry me to my fell task. I loved the feel of the sharp autumn wind as power coursed through me. The carriage pulled up and waited for me to board. It looked more like the shadow of a carriage than the actual thing. The driver was a shape in the vague form of a man. Even the horses resembled smoke more than flesh, with wild red eyes that regarded me with unnatural intelligence. The most bizarre thing about it was that the whole thing was as quiet as a whisper, in direct conflict with the unholy din it raised the night before.