Tortured Dreams of a sleeping Miro

(Just an Idea I had.  I like the forum rp a lot and it goes a long way to giving me something to do during the week.  So I thought I would see what its like in Miro's head while he sleeps.  And who know maybe I'll glean something cool.)     As Miro walks into the subterranean room the cool air washes over his burning skin.  He had done it again.  He had exhausted his entire supply of magics and he could feel it.  Like his bone had turned to slime and his skin awash with molten lava.  He insisted they press on but they wouldn't hear it.  So Miro did what he always did in the face of "Larger" demands.  He caved in and did what he was told.       It was cold in the room much like the desert.  The floor was hard against his shoulder and face.  In most cases people would see this as a very inhospitable place to take rest, but to Miro it was almost home.  He curled into his usual defensive ball without even a thought.  For it was better not to expose many softer parts just in case the task master didn't like the way he slept.  There he drifted off into the oblivion of sleep hoping that the nightmares of what his fellow slaves had endured on his behalf would not visit him now.  The cool stone against his burning face did wonders for helping him drift off and soon his friends' voices where a distant land and a ghosts murmur as he moved on to that strange land that existed in everyone's sleep.

(*Grab popcorn and big slushie* I like this idea. I proofread for free since I like stories.)

Miro feels the warm desert wind gently caress his face. I the distance he hears voices calling to him. He recognizes them as the voices of his family and friends, at first they are laughing and singing, and he can hear children playing, but then the sounds of merriment turn to screams of pain and terror as the voices call to him for help. He runs with all his might to get there in time, but the sand seems to pull him down until he can't move at all. The more he struggles the deeper the sand becomes. As he continues to struggle, the sand begins to turn as red as blood and the scream cut off abruptly and there is nothing but an Eire and deadly silence.

Miro Stands weeping on the sands.   "I never meant..."  The words fall off just as the scene changes again.   Spectral hooks rise from the sands and impale his shoulders and knees.  The pain is agonizing as they hoist his tiny form from the sands 100 feet into the air.  There he remains suspended over the sands of blood only to notice that it is not sand but the bodies of all those slaves he had condemned to death.  The field is endless and he can make out each and every face.  Amlara his lover, Amiik his first born child.  His father and mother and all 6 of his brothers.  Each and every body torn and ruthlessly slaughtered like cattle.   Miro begins to burn a soft glow for but a second that erupts into a hellish red flare as he roars at the scene before him.  His robes burn away to ash and the chains quiver and then burn aswell yet they never release him from from their grip as the chains take a ghostly flame on themselves.  Finally his face burns away too leaving a plan empty mask of half flat black and half unmarred white with but two eye slits revealing burning eyes behind it.   He readies a spell of monumental power.  A ball of hellflame half a mile wide erupts from his outstretched hands raised over his head.   He sends it on its course the scene below that it might burn the image from his sight in one fell blast.  Just as the spell is released of his control he notices new figures below him.  Ameiko, Synovia, Vrinn and Bobole.  They are chained to the killing fields below looking up at him in terror.  Just as he realizes his error the chains begin to wind around his extremities and clench tighter and tighter.  The chains that hunger for magic are no longer sated that his spell is gone.  They wrap and squeeze until Miro hears the tell tale snap of his bones.  The pain is nothing compared to the sight of this ball of hell flame descending slowly almost agonizingly towards his friends.

Just before the flame hits his friends below, Miro feels a cool hand touch his brow and a gentle voice in the distance mummer "Hush, Miro,my brother, all is well. We are safe. Just rest" and the nightmare receeds.

The same dream again and again.  Miro rubs the sleep from his eyes and looks over to his arguing companions.  Thank whatever gods had guided him here.  Despite the fact that the nightmare has yet to release him, it seems it has gotten worse as of late.  He smiles slightly knowing that their antics were always good to rouse him from his personal terrors.  With the dream but a memory,  he turns his attentions to the mouse caught in the trap of his friends.  "Just let him go..." He murmurs.