by Lincoln Law
“I knew what they were before then,” Adabelle replied.
“Then I’m sure you understand what a Sturding Nhyx is.”
“They’re the reverse of a human,” Adabelle said, struggling to explain it. “Where as a Sturding human can appear in the Dream in their flesh and blood form, and move about within there.”
“Like your father.”
“Yes, like Therron. A Sturding Nhyx has its reality within the dreams, and outside the dreams is…well…its own dream. But it can still make itself known there. Fully. Is that right?”
“Close,” Lady Morphier said. “A Sturding Nhyx is something we’re still studying, but from what we’ve been able to gather, a Sturding, whether Nhyx or human, has an understanding of itself in both realities; the Dream Frequencies and the real world.”
“An understanding of itself?” Adabelle asked.
“It is aware of itself…it understands its presence in both realms is reasonable and sensible. It’s their reality. It’s all very hard to explain, really, I am not doing it justice. Basically it just means it appears in both worlds. Most dreams can’t hurt us, because we don’t accept it as reality. Our very fabric that creates us doesn’t accept dreams as reality, so no matter what happens, we can’t be hurt by it. Sturdings have that one weakness. They can be killed in either world, and given some of the things we face in the dream frequencies, I consider it a great weakness indeed.”
“You’re a Sturding?” asked Adabelle.
“Indeed I am,” she said. “I can appear within Dreams as fully as I appear before you now. But it also means I am mortal in both.”
“And my father was one of these, too, wasn’t he.”
“Indeed he was.”
Which would explain how he could do so much by simply being within the dream of another.
“He was able to move through dreams as a person walks down the street, and emerge from other’s minds, like they were his own. He could do things with dreams that none thought possible. He was the one who created the Nhyxes.”
Adabelle perked up at this.
“I’m sorry?”
“Oh didn’t you know? He was the one who created the Nhyxes…or rather, the Sturding Nhyxes specifically. He was able to bring them into this world. I don’t know how. It was his own private army of nightmares.”
“And what did you do with them?” Adabelle asked.
“Well, being Sturdings, we are still able to seal them into dream spheres. As your father was sealed away. Of course, unsealing them leads to certain complications.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well regardless of whether Sturding or not, the dreamspheres are like small pieces of the dream frequencies. When one is broken, to release whatever’s inside, the thing released is still limited to the dream unless dragged out by another Sturding. Of course, accidents have occurred.” She indicated to her silver hair. “I was in one dream where I’d had to disguise myself. I changed everything about me, yet when I emerged from the dream, my hair stayed silver. I have tried time-and-time again to re-enter dreams and change it, but it doesn’t change. I’m not the only one. There have been people who have changed their hand they use to write with, people change eye colour, identity even! It comes with the danger of being a Sturding. When you change one reality, part of you must accept the dream more fully than the real thing and then it sticks. I suspect your father understood this best, and is using it to do…what he’s doing.”
“And what about my father?” Adabelle asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Well if he’s broken free, then what happens to him if he’s a Sturding. We’ve seen he can harm people in the real world—my cousin as example—and if he has broken free of his sphere, then what happens there?”
“He may be able to influence dreams, but I do not think he could make himself known in the real world. At least directly, or physically. He is a Sturding, yes, but his body was destroyed, his ashes scattered on the wind.”
“Then do you have any suggestions on how to avoid him?” she asked.
Lady Morphier was quiet for a time.
“Slugleaf tea is an obvious option, though by no means a perfect one. If you don’t brew the right amount, or you gain a resistance to it over time—which isn’t unheard of—then you could find yourself in his sights. You could have some Dreamer’s guard your dreams, but that’s incredibly expensive and impractical. There’s always forcing yourself awake, but then the precursors are meant to stop that.”
As Adabelle was already too aware.
“I wish I had more answers; truly I do. But alas, I cannot think of any more.”
“You’ve done what you can,” Adabelle said. “That’s all I can ask.”
Adabelle finished her tea, and Lady Morphier did the same.
“Now we have not been able to check for you if the sphere is indeed been stolen or broken, as there is a twelve hour period for clearance on any visit to the Hall of Spheres. Even I must wait. It’s a rule and I do not intend to see it broken. Thankfully, we were informed of your visit yesterday so clearance has been made available to you and I. Shall we go there now?”
Adabelle’s stomach clenched into a ball, the way a hedgehog curls itself up. She felt suddenly ill, realising what lay before her.
The truth, she thought. It was time to face it.
She followed Lady Morphier through the halls, and down small corridor towards an elevator. They travelled down it to a floor below the basement, and emerged in a dark room with only one other door opposite them. Lady Morphier pulled a key from around her neck and opened the door. The next room appeared to be some kind of reception, judging from the desk and the well-lit space, and the man presently sitting there, tapping away on a typewriter.
“Name?” he asked, barely glancing up from his typewriter.
Lady Morphier cleared her throat, and the man jumped.
“I do apologise, I did not recognise who it was. Forgive me, my Lady.” He glanced down at the tome before him. “Yes, you both have clearance. Please go through.”
Morphier nodded, and walked past, Adabelle following along behind her.
The Hall of Spheres was a well lit room, which stretched far into the distance, separated into smaller rooms all connected by archways.
“This halls is divided into multiple sections in order to make organisation easier,” Lady Morphier explained, as they began their way amongst the stacks. “There are Nhyxes and nightmares and dreams as well as many other categories. Basically, we do work for hire when required to fight off recurring nightmares, or to snatch dreams from someone who doesn’t need those sorts of fancies troubling them. We get quite a few calls from parents of children with disabilities. There are some things they needn’t suffer.”
Her tone suggested pity and sadness. Adabelle had never considered what the Oen’Aerei could really be used for.
“But what we’re looking for is in a very specific section.”
Deep into the halls they went, crossing multiple arches into different sections, occasionally changing direction.
“Here we are,” Morphier said, as they turned into on particular archive alley. It went on for an impossible distance, and Adabelle began to wonder as to whether this archive went on forever under the city.
Adabelle followed Morphier down the alley, the weight in her chest turning to iron, the air around her turning to ice. Now was the time. Now was the moment. In the next few moments, she would know the truth, though her suspicions were already mostly confirmed.
For Larraine, she thought, as Morphier came to a stop.
“I must apologise,” Morphier said, staring at the shelf. “It appears the sphere is gone.”
“Not gone,” Adabelle replied, staring at the floor. “Broken.” She pointed, at shards of blue, crystalline glass on the floor, smashed and sprayed out under the shelf opposite.
Lady Morphier turned and gasped, hand clutching at her chest. She pushed herself up against the shelf, as if
the shards were deadly.
“But how?” she muttered. “No one is allowed in here. They’re unbreakable.”
So many questions began to cascade upon Adabelle. What was she to do now that she knew the truth? What would the Oen’Aerei do in order to investigate what had happened here?
“If the Dreamless find out,” Lady Morphier said, “I can only imagine the danger we’ll all be in.” Her tone was unfathomably terrified, like her darkest nightmare—her Nhyx—had reared its ugly head.
Lady Morphier double-checked the tag on the front of the shelf, confirming that this one had been Count Therron’s.
“I am so sorry, Adabelle,” Morphier said. “You have your answers now. You must go now. I have much…much I must tend to.” She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, her façade disintegrating. “I will guide you out.”
Adabelle followed Morphier from the archive and up into the Halls. From there, she was left with one of the students to be guided from the Halls. She was left at the gates, the gates closed, and Adabelle was alone.
And while alone at the gates, the terror of the truth came crashing upon her. Like an avalanche of fear she began to shiver and sob. She had to find safety, she had to seek peace. But Therron could enter her mind and her sleep. To sleep now would be incredibly dangerous.
She took her time before the gate to compose herself, for she was in no state to travel at present. She soon managed to settle herself enough to brave the tram ride to the University, but once there, she would let out all her fear, all her emotion. With a deep, cathartic resolution, she decided she needed to find somewhere safe; a sanctuary. Her sister was safe, but Therron had made his powers known in killing Larraine.
There was so much preparation to do if she was to survive this.
PART TWO
Matters of Reality
Chapter Seven
The Aftermath
Adabelle managed to contain her emotions as she made her way home. She stopped at the chemist on the way there to pick up some Slugleaf tea. She got as much as she was allowed with the money she had, and judging from the portion, it would last her close to a fortnight.
When she arrived home, though, she found herself exhausted. So much had happened that day that she desired nothing more than to lie down and nap. She was especially happy when she arrived home and found that the police had chosen not to speak with her that day, giving her the entire afternoon to herself.
She had intended to use the time to practice violin, but found she had no energy to do that. Instead, she took to her bed, lying down to sleep.
Apparently the Slugleaf tea Lady Morphier had given her was enough to hold dreams at bay during her nap. Her sleep was dark and silent, and when she awoke two hours later, she felt well-rested. She had some late lunch, followed by some tea, choosing to spend most of her time alone that afternoon. Soon, she would have to face her sister and explain everything, but for now, she could luxuriate in the peace of ignorance for one last golden moment.
When she woke, she found her sister sitting on her bed, holding a tissue in her hands. She played with it, crumpling it in her fingers, unfurling it again. Crinkling, unfolding.
“Hello,” Charlotte whispered.
“Hello,” Adabelle replied.
“I’m sorry for running off like that yesterday,” she said, bowing her head apologetically. “I know I’ve had you worried for the last few days, and I shouldn’t have reacted like that.”
“And I’m sorry, too,” Adabelle said, “for not telling you more. I’m…sorry.” She grimaced. “I’ve made a few mistakes, and the consequences have been…terrible to say the least.”
“So now’s the time to tell me,” Charlotte said. “Given what’s happened, I think I deserve answers.”
“You deserved answers long ago,” Adabelle said, “I just wasn’t brave enough to reveal them. I was a coward.”
Charlotte had no response to that, instead sitting expectantly, playing with her tissue all the while. Adabelle spoke of Larraine’s nightmare with Therron and the Nhyx, of her run in with their father in the dream frequencies, of the repeated appearances in her nightmares, and of Larraine’s warning.
“And of course, we both know what became of that warning.”
Both of them were silent. Adabelle considered it a moment of respect for their cousin.
“And why didn’t you tell me that our father was back? This was why you were saying his name in your sleep! This is why Aunt Marie had that attack! Because our father’s back! That’s why!”
“I know, and I’m very, very sorry. But I didn’t want to trouble you until I had confirmation.”
“And Larraine’s death was the confirmation?”
Adabelle didn’t blame her sister for her anger; in many ways she deserved to be spoken to like that. But it didn’t soften the blows she felt to her conscience.
“No,” Adabelle replied quietly. “Visiting the halls of the Oen’Aerei was. I didn’t want to trouble you if it was just a particularly crafty Nhyx, or someone else playing tricks. You know as well as I what our father is capable of, and I didn’t need you worrying yourself with it if it was really nothing. Larraine’s death simply spurred me on. I didn’t want to go the halls, because I was scared. I don’t feel good about any of this, but it’s just what’s happened.” She had found herself so embroiled in the emotion of their discussion that she’d begun to cry and had not yet noticed. She pulled a handkerchief from her bedside drawer and dabbed her eyes.
“I’m sorry if I seem upset,” Charlotte said.
“You have every right to be,” Adabelle replied, “just as surely as Larraine’s ghost now has every right to haunt me every night for the rest of my life.”
“Now don’t think like that,” Charlotte said, shifting herself so she was next to Adabelle. She threw an arm around her sister, patting softly. “I think what you need to remember is that no amount of preparation could have kept anyone safe. You’ve bought some Slugleaf tea—yes, I know what it does. But even then, our father was an especially powerful Dreamer. I don’t think that Larraine would have survived even if she had any tea herself. Therron would have found a way around it.”
“He can’t affect you,” Adabelle said. “He can’t touch you in the Dream Frequencies.”
Charlotte looked bewildered, sitting before Adabelle.
“And that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you. As far as you’re concerned, you don’t even have to worry about him coming after you. You can’t dream, so he can’t even find you. If he tried to enter your mind, he’d see only blackness. You’re safe.”
“Then tell me what I can do to help you,” Charlotte said, taking Adabelle’s hands in her own. Her touch was warm and soft and gentle, but comforting. “Tell me what I can do to remind you that everything will be okay.”
“But that’s just it.” Adabelle said. “It’s not your job to look after me. It’s my job to look after you. I’m the big sister. And I can’t do that if I can barely care for myself.”
“I don’t care whether you’re my big sister or my great aunty, I am here to look after you, too. There is a lot of trouble ahead, for both of us, and if I can’t help you through it all, then I don’t know what use I am. If I can’t give you a hug when you need it, or promise you that everything is going to be okay, then I don’t know if I can take part in this. But I’m giving you no choice here. We are going to get through this together, whether you want my help or not.”
Adabelle couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. She embraced her sister tightly, sobbing into her shoulder. “Oh, thank goodness I have you here with me,” she said. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Nor I you,” Charlotte said. “Now I want you to promise that you’ll tell me everything from now on, whether it means worrying me or not. I don’t care whether it’s about dreams or our father or if you like a boy, I need to know. Promise?”
“I promise,” Adabelle said.
“Well, good. Now I do
n’t want us fighting at all. Tonight, we’re going to have dinner, you’ll take your Slugleaf tea and everything will be all right. We’ll start thinking about what we can do tomorrow.”
“Agreed,” Adabelle said.
She welcomed the conversation with her sister over dinner. After spending so long stewing in her own thoughts, it was nice to be able to be open and honest again. They were each the only family they had in the world, really. They had to take care of one another.
But none of this changed the fact her father was now certainly after her. He had made it known that he could influence things in the real world, though his body was limited to the Dream Frequencies. He had revealed that he had some control over people in the dream, too, in the way he had influenced Larraine, whether they be Sturding or otherwise.
Adabelle wondered for a time whether being a Sturding would be an advantage in facing her father. The fact that his reality was now the dream meant that, theoretically, he could only reach her in the frequencies. She brushed those thoughts aside; she wasn’t a Sturding and she didn’t expect to become one any time soon.
Yet as she watched her sister eat, she couldn’t help but sense something troubling on the horizon. Hard times lay ahead for them both, that she knew, but she was sure they would be able to weather it together. Yet that didn’t soothe the fears she felt within.
She pieced together in her head the meaning and the reasons behind her father’s movements in an attempt to find some clue as to how to be rid of him. And yet the more she looked, the more perplexed she became. It was like doing a puzzle with extra pieces and missing edges. She was flying completely blind as she wondered about her father’s actions.
What reasons did he have for killing Larraine? What purpose would that serve other than scaring her and her sister? It seemed, in all honesty, a very brash act, without any real purpose or motivation.