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Randolph Carter awoke in his bed in the waking world. He had come and gone from the Dreamlands many times before, but none of his journeys had ever been so fraught.
In the moment of waking up, he'd felt as if whole universes were born and died. It was like waking up from a too-heavy afternoon doze, magnified by a thousand. Something - or someone - very much had not wanted Carter to return to the waking world.
Carter smiled. To think, Nyarlathotep's words meant to trick him were actually what had reminded him how to wake up. Carter had nothing to fear from the land of dreams now.
As Carter rose from his bed, his joints creaked stiffly. When he looked in the mirror, he saw something strange in his reflection. He had two bumps in his skull, pushing his hair up like grassy hills.
Carter shuddered. Was he still dreaming after all? Was this some sort of illusion? No, he couldn't be dreaming. The colors he saw in his room and on his face were perfectly normal in the visual spectrum of the waking world, not the fantastical hyper-real colors of the world of dreams.
Carter took off his nightshirt. His torso was streaked with faint shadows, writhing like living tendrils. The focal point, directly over his heart, was a distinct mark.
Nyarlathotep's. Carter didn't know why he knew - the mark was like nothing he'd come across in his studies - but he could feel the god's energy emanating from the lines scrawled on his chest.
Of course this had to do with him. Carter seethed in frustration. This elder god just couldn't face the fact that he'd lost, could he? He had to get the last word. Well, Carter wouldn't let him. He would punch that smug bastard in the face for transforming his body so crudely.
Carter dressed as he formulated a plan. He would have a normal day in his Boston life, not letting on that this little show had affected him. His hat would hide those awful nubs, his shirt the markings, and no one would know the difference. And that night, when Nyarlathotep thought he had him trapped, he would make his stand.
.
Nyarlathotep seethed as Randolph Carter's soul vanished from the world of dreams. The human had simply woken up. It was unheard of for a mortal marked for Azathoth to be able to return to the waking world.
The rage burned in his soul. In the physical costume he wore, the burning wasn't merely metaphor. His chest tightened and a patch of his skin burned with- oh.
There was a mark on Nyarlathotep's chest. One much like the binding he'd put on Carter. Had he somehow misdirected the spell? No, he'd seen the mark shine on Carter's skin in a wavelength the human's eyes couldn't even guess at.
Nyarlathotep's head spun. He needed to get Carter back, send him to the judgment that he deserved. Nyarlathotep was a god, messenger of Azathoth himself. He would not be so easily defeated. This was merely an extra step in ensuring the human's torment.
That damned human would be back. Whether tonight, in a month, or in a year, Carter would fold to the temptation of the Dreamlands. Nyarlathotep would be ready for him.
First, he had to figure out what the hell he had done.
.
Carter hummed pleasantly to himself as he strolled to the park. He liked spending time outdoors - it helped the inspiration flow for his stories. And oh, did he have a story to tell today.
He could write a worse outcome of last night's experiences. One where the poor man in question succumbed to whatever fate Nyarlathotep had laid out for him, or one where he survived but lost himself to total madness.
Settling onto a park bench, Carter took out his pen and notebook and began to jot down these ideas. He wrote of beautiful cities, dreadful monsters, and impossible people.
A few times when Carter looked up from his work, he saw people staring at him or clearly averting their eyes. He checked the position of his hat, but all was secure.
Was Carter impossible now? He'd written many protagonists changed forever by the horrors of the Dreamlands and things from beyond this world, but prior to this morning the only change in him had been his growing curiosity in the worlds beyond reach. He'd sometimes thought it would swallow him whole.
Carter stared at his notebook and shook his head. No, these horns - as ghastly as they were - couldn't take away his humanity. He could write, which meant he could pin down all his experiences into his stories. He was in charge of his own destiny.
.
The Crawling Chaos researched. Nyarlathotep would not have bothered describing his actions in imagery a human could understand, but if he did, he might have described it as poring through a near-infinite library composed of his own eternities of knowledge and messages shared with him by Azathoth. He also might have compared it to an internet search with a database a googolplex larger than a human a hundred years later could imagine. No other entity in the universe could claim access to such an immeasurable trove.
What he found only raised more questions. Somehow, the mark meant to seal Carter for Azathoth had become a soul bond between the human and Nyarlathotep. A glance into Carter's subconscious showed that he had noticed a change in himself. Nyarlathotep had watched Carter's latest journey to the forbidden city, and he had seen how highly Carter valued his own cleverness and human characteristics.
Despite the shock Carter must have experienced, it seemed he wanted to return to the Dreamlands. The arrogant human seemed bent on pursuing his own destruction while genuinely confident that he would come out on top. Nyarlathotep couldn't help but laugh. It was almost cute.
Unfortunately, the soul bond had another complication. Carter and Nyarlathotep would feel physically drawn to each other, discomfort becoming painful if they stayed apart. Nyarlathotep could not allow this to happen, nor could he allow Carter any chance of waking up and escaping another trap. There was only one solution: he had to bring Carter's physical body to the Dreamlands along with his soul. Then he could crack Carter's psyche and get on with his eternity as if none of this had ever happened.
.
Carter climbed into bed wearing a devilish smirk. As his body drifted toward sleep, he set his thoughts on the Dreamlands - particularly that shining city he'd come so close to, only to be denied. If he was lucky, his projection would take him further than before and he would be nearer to his destination at the start. All the more time to exact his revenge.
Seconds or minutes or hours later, he found himself on that other plane. The Crawling Chaos himself stood above Carter, fury etched into the face of his human disguise. Aha! Just as he'd hoped. Carter leapt to his feet and hurled his fist toward that falsehood of a face-
-only to be intercepted by an iron-tight grip around his wrist.
"Did you think it would be this easy?" Nyarlathotep sneered. "Do you really think you can hurt me?"
"Do you think you can hurt me?" Carter retorted. "I know how to escape you now. You can't hurt me, or anyone, as long as we remember how to return to our bodies. I'll-"
"Your body is here. Look at yourself."
Carter looked down. He was still clad in his pajamas rather than the adventuring attire his dream-self usually wore. As he focused on his body, he noticed the mild stiffness in his joints that didn't usually follow him to the Dreamlands. Worse yet, his scalp was sore. A quick brush with his free hand confirmed that his horns had grown, pushing out from under his hair and curling back, nearly touching the back of his skull.
"You just can't leave well enough alone, can you?" Carter spat.
"Randolph Howard Carter. You are cursed. Your body has been altered and your soul is bound to mine. You cannot escape me again, and you will meet the fate you are destined for, likely a hundred times worse because of your indignance."
Likely. Was Nyarlathotep in charge here or not? "If I'm so doomed, stop dragging this out and do it already!"
.
This insignificant human had played his last bluff, Nyarlathotep thought.
Under strict supervision from Nyarlathotep, Carter rode another shantak toward the churning center of the universe. They were kept away from cliffs. Even though Carter's body being in the Dreamlands provided a sort of insurance against the human's last escape plan, Nyarlathotep did not want to take any chances.
Carter struggled against the rope tying him to the beast. Nyarlathotep watched from above, appreciating the view of Randolph Carter small and helpless. Nyarlathotep let his disguise relax, spreading his tendrils of stardust into the sky around him. When Carter managed to loosen the rope slightly, Nyarlathotep didn't interfere. Soon the sounds and sights of this impossible vista would rob Carter of his wits.
The next moment, Carter ran into the unearthly city, laughing as he went. Nyarlathotep watched in shock, but before he could react, a bolt of pain stabbed through his core.
He had gotten too far. Nyarlathotep regathered his form until his limbs resembled living stone. The pain hadn't stopped, and it seemed the human was faring no better. He lay curled on the ground, wincing and clutching his chest. Without thinking, Nyarlathotep dove toward Carter and picked him up.
The pain ceased immediately. Though still stunned, both entities sighed in relief.
"You said our souls are bound?" Carter breathed.
"Yes. We- you cannot escape from me this time." Nyarlathotep tried to hide the weakness in his voice, but it had been a long, long time since anything had truly caused him undesired pain.
"Can you put me down?" Carter asked, putting on his own indignant front. "I can walk."
"Right, yes." Nyarlathotep set Carter's feet on the ground but kept a firm grip on his arm. "I'll take you the rest of the way myself. I should have known not to trust one of my shantaks with you."
Carter may have been the most interesting human he'd ever met. His confident smile, his way with the Ulthar cats, and the way his eyes glinted in the unearthly suns of the Dreamlands stirred Nyarlathotep's heart. The thought of Carter being consumed by the chaos at the center of the universe, completely absorbed to an unknown fate, no longer excited Nyarlathotep so.
.
Carter held tightly to Nyarlathotep's stony arm as he led him through the abandoned city. The pain had subsided quickly when Nyarlathotep had touched him, but the sheer relief of being close stirred something in Carter. It satisfied a craving he hadn't known he had these last few hours.
If Nyarlathotep thought it was odd that Carter wasn't resisting him, he didn't let on. Part of Carter wondered if Nyarlathotep felt it too.
Carter relished in the beauty of the city. The buildings reflected the suns in a dizzying array of colors. The mad singing continued, but Carter found he didn't mind it so much. He felt untouchable with Nyarlathotep by his side.
He also took the opportunity to look at the form Nyarlathotep had chosen. In their prior encounters, Nyarlathotep had appeared in a human shape, looking like some sort of ancient Pharaoh. Now, although the entity still had a human-like face and posture, his limbs had been replaced with clusters of tentacles and his skin resembled an impossibly smooth obsidian rock. The entity radiated warmth, not like lava but like life itself.
Nyarlathotep was beautiful. As a statue, yes, but also as a living thing. Carter's former sensibilities about what was beautiful and what was unsettling seemed to dissolve in the presence of this being who held him so well.
.
Nyarlathotep walked with the human down twisting paths. It was far from the shortest path to Azathoth, but Carter wouldn't know the difference.
"If I didn't know any better," Carter said with that damned grin of his, "I'd think you were stalling."
"Stalling? I am an eternal being with presence outside time as you know it. What use have I for mere hours?"
Carter chuckled, almost sadly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I've enjoyed this trip. This part of the Dreamlands is beautiful, and... I'm glad I got to see it with you."
"You know how that sounds, don't you?"
"Like I've finally gone mad? Tell me, oh Crawling Chaos. Did that soul bond spell of yours make me love you?"
Nyarlathotep averted his gaze. "Not purposefully. You've been yourself all along."
"What is going to happen to me when we arrive?"
"Whatever the Universe sees fit." Nyarlathotep was careful not to invoke his name. "The Blind Idiot God is the only higher authority than myself on all planes of reality you and I can access. I am his messenger, but even my knowledge has its limits."
"Why did you bind our souls? Won't it hurt you when I cease to exist?"
More than you know, Nyarlathotep thought. "I... didn't," he said aloud. "I meant to mark you for judgment so you would be unable to wake. Somehow it didn't go as planned."
Carter nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "Mere hours..."
"What?"
"I was just thinking. What if this doesn't have to end yet? I can't go back to Earth," - here Carter gestured at his horns, too big now to hide under a hat - "I've changed too much, seen too much. But I could stay. Just for a little longer."
"There are rules, Randolph Carter," Nyarlathotep tried.
"And you're second in command. Is the Demon Sultan dreaming the universe really going to notice a few more hours?"
Such arrogance. Nyarlathotep couldn't help but smile. "No, I suppose he wouldn't. Even years mean nothing to him."
"I won't start some sort of dreamer revolution either," Carter continued. "You can make an example of me, hide me away, whatever you will, but I want to stay close to you, if you'll have me."
At this, Carter looked at Nyarlathotep with such an intoxicating combination of endearment and boldness that Nyarlathotep couldn't help but pull him close with his many arms and kiss him. The human was startled for only a moment before melting into the kiss in return.