by Emma Hamm
White light pooled like mist on the ceiling above Lyra. It funneled down and burrowed into her ears, unnoticed by any. Lydia needed to not only invade her body, but also take control of it.
Siren minds were unusually locked for such a weak willed creature.
There were many secrets hidden here. Lydia whispered through the walls of protection Lyra had built around herself.
“She is hidden in a mountain. Search in the Ice Realm for her magical signature.”
Lyra repeated the words as though in a trance.
“Good,” Lydia whispered. “Now this is just for you, Lyra. I’m sorry I had to use your body and mind like this. I will make it up to you. Until we meet again.”
Certain that the future would remain safe, she loosed her hold. Lydia sank back into her physical form and pain exploded behind her eyes.
She arched off the floor, her spine bowing as pins and needles vibrated from her hands to her neck. Everything was black, not blurry, but black as night.
“Pitch?” She asked as her hands dug into the carpet. “Pitch, where are you?”
Warm hands covered her own. She felt the velvet touch of his lips before he murmured, “Right here with you, my love.”
“What happened?”
“You tell me.”
She had overdone it. Her body, although strong, was still too weak to house the power she needed to. Slumping back to the floor, she tried to ignore the pain tingling from every limb. “I saved Wren.”
“She’s in danger?”
“Malachi already has her.”
His hand convulsed, bruising her fragile bones. “When?”
“Just now. I manipulated Time by myself. I traveled through Wren’s line and found someone who could find her. They will retrieve her and she will be relatively unhurt.”
“Relatively?”
“He will not be kind.”
Pitch cursed. Her hand dropped to the floor, and she heard him pace in a circle around her. “What can we do?”
“Nothing.”
“We can’t leave her there.”
“Her people will find her soon.”
“You are certain?”
She tried to access the future once more, but stopped when lightning flashed behind her blind eyes. Blood trickled out of her nose. Pressure built behind her eyes until they threatened to pop out of her skull. “Yes.”
“What are you doing?” He paused in his pacing.
“I tried to see the future again. My body didn’t like it.”
“I thought you weren’t weak anymore.”
“Are you blaming me?” Lydia wanted to shout at him. She wanted to scratch at his eyes until he felt what she was going through. “I’m doing everything I can, you selfish jackass! I am completely blind after that little trick, and all to save your little creation. The right words are ‘thank you’ and ‘are you all right’!”
She heard the distinct snap of teeth. “There is more at stake here than one woman I feel a connection to.”
Lydia didn’t know if he was speaking of herself or of Wren. It didn’t matter. He had no right to dictate what the future would be. That was her job.
She lifted a hand and scrubbed at the sticky blood coating her face. “I had to choose. It was save her and save the world. Or let him have her and save hundreds. There was no right choice. Be thankful I saved someone you have an affinity for.”
He must have heard the bitterness in her voice. Pitch knelt behind her and helped her sit up. Warm skin trailed down the silk nightgown she wore.
He was counting the bumps of her spine. She heard him whispering the numbers as he went, forcing himself to calm down.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was out of line.”
“Yes you were.”
“Do you accept my apology?”
“No.” One of her antlers caught him on the cheek when she shook her head. “No, I don’t forgive you for choosing someone else over me. But that is our world, isn’t it? Even in the end, though I don’t know what that end looks like, we may need to choose other people over each other.”
“Don’t say that.”
“You can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it. We were created to save this world. What use are we afterwards? This all ends and I don’t know if we survive it.”
“We will,” he slid his arms underneath her shoulder and legs. Standing, he muttered, “I will make sure of it.”
She let her head fall against his shoulder and twisted her fingers together. “I don’t think it’s our choice, Pitch.”
Chapter 15
Lydia’s mind weighed heavy with guilt, even after Pitch reported back and said they had found Wren. She was injured, but she would live. Jiminy had changed his apartment within the Five’s compound to create a home for the two of them.
Things were moving along well in their plans. The prophecy was becoming common knowledge, and Wren’s team was looking for the next person.
A thought which worried her.
Lydia’s nails were bitten clean down to the quick, and she spent much of her time speeding through the threads of Time as she tried to figure out the ending. There were too many opportunities for change and there was no clear ending to this story.
The night was clear, cloudless and sparkling with blinking stars. Cold air swirled around her. Not yet cold enough for snow, but near as it would get without flurries. The summer had passed them.
She dreaded the winter months. The nights were long which meant she would sleep more than she did now. Her dreams were once more dark. She could find no peace. No escape from the necessity of her life.
Save the world. Save the people. Don’t let deaths weigh upon your soul.
But they did. She woke in the night with her skin slicked from sweat and the howls of lost souls ringing in her ears. Eating became a chore. Everything she put in her mouth made her want to vomit, even the plainest of foods.
The roof of Pitch’s home soothed her wandering mind. The breeze listened to her whispered worries and dashed them against the ground. The stars told her jokes that made her smile and laugh. The house itself was a firm foundation that would support her.
Strange that she found a best friend in a house, but nothing had made sense lately. Pitch had changed much of how she viewed the world. A house was not just an object, the sky had a voice, and dreams became real.
“Dreams,” she whispered to the wind. “Perhaps that’s how I can help.”
Jiminy was a Dream Walker. It stood to reason he might fill Wren’s sleeping mind with magically enhanced experiences. If she could walk into that dream, then maybe she could speak with them. Explain herself. Explain her choices.
Logic fled from her mind. If she had taken a moment to ponder the safety of such an act, she would have hesitated. The Dream World was a dangerous place to those who did not know how to walk the path.
It had to be similar to the strands of Time. Perhaps it would be familiar to the power inside of her that she still held at bay.
Lydia laid down on the roof, settled her body into a comfortable position, and dived into her mind.
The Dream World was not unlike a bubble. Scenes were projected on the walls all around her, suggesting there was a never ending vastness to her mind’s world. But there was a limit to a dream.
The blank space would not help her find the seam, so she conjured up a beach. Ever since Pitch had described his Bliss experience, Lydia dreamed his words. She walked through the tossing ocean waves, foam tangling in the long length of her white nightgown.
Half awake, she could sense the control she had over the landscape. Her fingertips tingled and the desire to play was addicting. She could create a sea dragon in that surf. She could disappear beneath the waves with it to tangle her hair in seaweed.
Such distractions were a nuisance.
Lydia stretched out her hands, walking forward with purpose until she could feel the edge of the dream. It was far closer than she had expected.
“Smal
l blessings,” she murmured. “Now, to get out.”
This was where her vast knowledge ended. In Time, she would simply push. Or attempt to push with her mind. The threads were like rivers. They wanted to sweep her away, to show her all the secrets they carried.
Dreams were not like that. They wanted to keep the dreamer in a cage, to prevent them from realizing that none of this was real. In that way, they were similar to Juice. Both gave experiences the human might never feel in reality.
Lydia puffed out a breath, making the hair in front of her face dance. “I don’t have time for this. I need to find Wren and explain. Let me go!”
The bubble stretched. She pushed harder, feeling the edge of the dream give under the weight of her will.
“Let me go!” she cried out.
An audible pop made her ears ring, and the dream fell away. sea-foam faded into twinkling stars, the sea dragon roared from the depths which dissolved into shadows. The sand turned to glass and melted into a sturdy bridge.
The Dream World revealed itself.
Bubbles floated as far as her eye could see. And further, she assumed, considering that every living creature had a Dream World. Some were surprisingly small, perhaps the dreams of children who didn’t need a large space to roam. Others were so large she worried they might bump into others.
They did not drift very far from each other. Lydia watched as one dream collided into another, melding a small section of dreams. She could see the faint outline of people walking toward each other inside the combined bubbles.
“Very strange,” she said. “This place is far different than I expected.”
She stepped forward, hesitating when she reached the edge of the glass bridge. She flexed her hand at her side.
“How much control do I have here?” Experimentally, she held her hand palm down over the remaining glass. “Will you come with me? To guide my way?”
The glass bridge obliged. The back end heated, melted, and rolled across the bottom of her bridge. It solidified on the other end and cooled quick enough for her to walk across it.
She meandered through the Dreaming World, taking a moment to acclimate herself. And there was a lot to take in. Each dream, although appearing at first glance to be very similar, was unique in its own way.
Some were made of glass, like hers. These seemed to be owned by the more powerful creatures. A Phoenix stretched its wings in one, brushing past the glass as though it recognized her. An Ent unfurled leaves so large they pressed against the glass of its dream.
Other dreams were made of rubber, paper, or the finest silk. She could only see shadows or warped visions in these. The people they protected did not have the awareness to press against their cage, to break out of the dream and wander through the world beyond it. For that, Lydia was grateful. The cold press of magic and the never ending dream bubbles would have overwhelmed many.
She held out her hand and a thin pillar of glass rose to touch her gently.
“I need to find Wren and the Legion. Would you be able to direct me?”
She wasn’t certain what the glass was. She suspected it was the remains of her own dream bubble she had shattered. If so, then she hoped it would listen to her request and give her some sense of direction.
This place wasn’t unthinking. Power radiated from each bubble, and it wasn’t from the creatures inside them. The dreams were sentient.
Glass stretched thin as she fell behind. Cracking sounds echoed longer than they should have in this place that was real and not. Lydia sped up, just in case the bridge shattered. She wasn’t certain where she would go, but she didn’t want to find out.
Her dream bridge was careful not to touch any other dreams. It lost bits of itself as one of the other dreams nearly collided with it.
“You don’t want me to step into the wrong dream, do you?” she asked. “I wonder what would happen if I did?”
She also didn’t want to find out. Curiosity was a kind of virtue, but it also could get her killed.
Finally, her dream bridge stopped in front of another glass bubble. She could see through it as though she were looking through a window. Wren sat on a dock in the center of a field. Wildflowers spilled all around her, and fish jumped out of the small pond.
It was quaint. Simple, but effective. Much like what she had learned of the woman who held Legion at bay.
“Thank you,” Lydia said. “I don’t know what to do with you while I’m in there. Do you want to wait or do you want to join me?”
The glass rolled, thrusting her into Wren’s dream. Lydia turned just in time to see it merge with the other dream bubble. It floated just above the other, like a leaf in a stream.
“Stranger and stranger,” she muttered.
Bees buzzed from flower to flower. The petals were outrageously large, pollen dripping off them in gold flakes. The ground was soft beneath her bare feet. All she could smell was the overwhelming sweet scent of lilacs.
It was a little more than she wanted to be around. Wren was all the colors of the rainbow and every emotion ever felt. This dream was perfect for the vibrant woman, but nauseating for Lydia.
She very much wanted to be back in the shadows of Pitch’s home. The screaming faces, the purgatory, even the solemn loneliness of his stately manor had become her symbol for happiness. This place only made that all the more clear.
Still, she had something to say. And though her mouth was now dry, it was something which had to be said.
She walked toward the pond, only to pause as a dark cloud lifted from Wren’s shoulders. It billowed in the air like ink dropped in a clear glass of water. Perhaps she had not been as sneaky as she thought. The ink began to sluggishly drift closer to her.
Lydia paused and waited. Though it was unusual to see fine black dust moving through the air without a wind, she should have known this would happen.
E was very protective of its human host.
It settled before her, faceless, ageless, sexless. Every now and then she could see a hand press forward, the hint of a nose or lips, even the outline of a shoulder or hair. The thousands of souls inside of E had never decided upon a shared form, and likely never would.
“Hello,” she said.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Lydia.”
“Are you a Dream Walker?”
“No.”
“Then how did you get in here?”
The dust and dark smoke shifted until she could see a woman’s face. Lydia assumed this was one of the many Dream Walkers that E had absorbed. She would be foolish to assume that it didn’t have at least a few of them. They used to be much more of them than there were now.
She didn’t know how to describe what she had done, so Lydia shrugged and said, “I walked.”
“You what?”
Lydia’s dream was still floating above them. She pointed upwards, watching as the Dream Walker inside E glanced at the ceiling. Its eyes narrowed.
“I broke down the bubble of my dream, and it made a bridge for me. Took me all the way to you, in fact.”
“That’s not possible. Dreams aren't deconstructed, the Dreamer’s mind would shatter along with the dream.”
Lydia shrugged. “I’m finding I don’t play by the normal rules anymore. I wish I could explain it, but there’s really no way for me to understand it all. It simply is.”
“What are you?”
There wasn’t an answer to that question either. Lydia shrugged again, watching the faces swap out each second. It appeared that every part of E wanted to take a little at the strange woman standing in their dream.
One face reappeared multiple times. A square jaw, harshly edged forehead, a scar that ran from the middle of his forehead and to his lip.
“Why are you here?” The question was asked in a thousand voices, and yet, only in one. She heard the deep growl of the warrior man battling his way to the forefront of E’s souls.
“To apologize.”
“For what?”
Lydia hesitated then plunged into the apology she had planned for hours upon hours the night before. “I want to take responsibility for Wren being caught by Malachi. I want to apologize for all the things which were done to her, all the pain she suffered, all the lingering effects of her capture. I should have seen it coming, but in my selfishness, I was not watching her well enough to prevent it.”
The scarred face solidified in the swirling mass of darkness. He quirked an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. “You were not there. I would remember.”
“That is why I am apologizing. I should have been there or, at the very least, sent someone to help.”
“You do not have the look of someone who could fight Malachi.”
She snorted. “You’d be surprised.”
“Explain this to me. You said that you should have been watching her. What does that mean?”
“I-” she hesitated. Her gaze drifted to Wren, who was now leaning back on her hands and letting the sun play across her face. Eyes closed, she was the picture of relaxation. “It’s my job to look after them. To make sure that the ending turns out the right way.”
E splintered back into dust. As she stared, it expanded so large that each dust particle touched each other, like a blanket of black sand. Her soul ached in realization, and she reached forward, gently tapping E's form.
“You aren’t made of ink or dust, are you?” she whispered. “These are your souls.”
“A Legion is much like a Dream World. Each soul adds to our size, but each soul is a single grain of sand.”
“And a world within it.”
“Indeed. You say you are here to apologize, but I have lived millions of years over and I recognize the expression upon your face. There is no repentance required, you have done nothing wrong. You are here because you are lonely. Because you needed to see something of yourself in another.”
“I see that every day,” Lydia sighed. “I see it in Pitch more than anyone else.”
“You see kinship, but you do not see your own reflection.”
“Am I to see my reflection in you?”
“There are many souls I have absorbed, too many for everyone to come to the forefront. Search for yourself within me, and you might find a familiar reflection.”