Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1)

by Camille Peters

  “How was your first Weaving?” Stardust asked. “What dream did you create?”

  The Weaving itself felt so long ago after my confrontation with Darius. “A rocking lullaby. Though it wasn’t the dream I would have chosen to create, Maci seemed to enjoy it.”

  My heart warmed at the thought, even as my fingers caressed my dream notebook nestled inside my bag, filled to the brim with ideas for more magical dreams I had planned for her—adventures with talking animals and unicorns, tea parties with fairies, sailing through the stars to kingdoms of sugar plums…

  “You shouldn’t weave anything too complicated yet,” Stardust warned, accurately guessing the direction of my thoughts. “You’re just barely starting. You have plenty of time to create more intricate dreams as Maci grows older.”

  While her advice was sound, I couldn’t afford to create less-than-stellar dreams now that I was partnered with a talented Weaver determined to find a reason to encourage the Council to suspend me. “I wonder if you’d give the same advice if you knew who my Nightmare partner is.”

  “I don’t make it my business to be acquainted with Nightmares,” she said.

  “Trust me, you’re familiar with this one.”

  Stardust froze mid-flight. “Don’t tell me it’s the Nightmare who gave you a horrible time with the Council. You can’t partner with him. Demand a reassignment.”

  I sighed. “I can’t, not when I’m his reassignment; he claims he requested me specifically.”

  Stardust frowned. “He definitely has something sinister up his sleeve. You’ll have to constantly be on your guard and never mess up.”

  And I’d undoubtedly have to create more complicated dreams if I were to have any hope of winning against a man of such supposed talent.

  I spent most of the day preparing for my next Weaving in the Enchanted Gardens, a park made entirely of floating paths and waterfalls that changed color to music as they cascaded. I loved to go there after a long night of studying and sit on the bank listening to the musical rapids as dawn painted the sky.

  Despite Earth being blanketed with winter, the Dream World remained vibrant, as if summer hadn’t left at all, but merely lingered beneath a mask. Snowflakes blew gracefully in the warm, floral-scented breeze, ice crystals glistened from the trees, and snowflake-shaped blossoms dotted the landscape.

  I lay on the snow-coated grass and flipped through my stack of dream journals, all while battling off my ever-present drowsiness. Each dream was like revisiting a cherished story, all enchanting in some way. Picking between them would be like choosing my favorite star from the heavens.

  “How about this one?” I tipped my journal towards Stardust, who floated around the park chomping on moonbits. She leaned closer, dropping crumbs all over the page.

  “A garden of flowers transforming into butterflies? I suppose that’s a nice dream…”

  I frowned. “You suppose? It’s just the thing to add a bit of summer to Maci’s dreary winter.”

  “It’s too advanced for you, Eden.”

  “What do you know? You’re only a cloud. You’ve never even seen a dream.”

  “I’m not totally clueless,” she said, bristling. “This dream has too many details. Even if Maci were old enough to appreciate it, the pattern alone requires gazillions of stitches, most of which are too difficult for you. You’ve only learned the most basic ones. You can’t—”

  “I know what I can and can’t handle, thank you very much.” Her doubt only fueled my determination to duplicate the dream. I avoided her disapproving glare as I shoved my journals back into my bag.

  “Rather than copy another’s dream, why don’t you create your own like everyone else?”

  “Shh, not so loud.”

  I glanced over at my friends to see if they’d heard. Angel sketched snowflake patterns in a sketchbook and Iris hummed while she created a crown from the winter blossoms. Thankfully, neither seemed to be paying me any attention. I leaned closer to Stardust and lowered my voice.

  “Coming up with an original idea takes too long, and my time is already at a premium due to my annoying need to sleep.” As if to reinforce my point, I stifled a yawn.

  Stardust mumbled something indiscernible under her breath.

  “Pardon?” I asked, not sure I really wanted to know.

  “Finally you ask.” Stardust swelled up in preparation for what promised to be an endless lecture. “I think you’re trying too hard to prove you belong here, and in doing so you’ll lose the Weaving and not prove anything. You’re a beginner going against a Weaver with much more experience. Just keep it simple.”

  By simple she meant boring. After many years of dream-watching I was well-versed in which dreams were most interesting, and the dull ones were usually the most basic. I couldn’t afford to create a mediocre dream, not when facing a self-proclaimed weaving prodigy.

  “Dusk is soon. Can you take me to the Cultivating Fields?”

  Stardust pursed her lips and said nothing, but disapproval rolled off of her in waves the entire flight.

  Soft sunset shimmered across the endless sea of flowers, rainbows of color against the surrounding winter wonderland. The blossoms’ sweet perfume tickled my nose as I examined each carefully. “Be on the lookout for any garden details.”

  “Oh great, now I’m being roped into your first defeat because you fail to see sense.”

  I ignored her and paused next to a flowerbed whose bulbs harbored various species of butterflies swirling gently in their auras. This area was already crowded with other Dreamers scouring for details, so I simply leaned down to pluck the closest one.

  “Why are you choosing the holly?” Stardust demanded. “That’s a winter flower, a direct contrast to the summer dream you’re creating. Honestly, I think I paid more attention during your magical studies than you did.”

  I released the flower mid-tug and reached for the pink oleander instead.

  “Not that one,” Stardust protested. “According to The Language of Flowers, oleanders mean caution, which is not the emotion you’re striving to create. Are you just plucking the first flowers you see?”

  My cheeks prickled with heat. “Don’t you have anything better to do than point out everything I’m doing wrong?”

  “I thought you wanted my help, but if you want me to stand idly by and watch you fail, I will.”

  Before Stardust could object, I picked the golden daffodil, whose aura featured a monarch butterfly; it curled its stem around my wrist as I tugged it from the soil. One down, a dozen more to go.

  Over the next several minutes of ignoring Stardust’s intrusive advice, I managed to gather a small bouquet of details fitting a garden theme—sun dappling the leaves, a clump of wildflowers and clover, the perfume of lilies, and several species of butterflies. Finally, I plucked the last flower and held my bouquet out to Stardust.

  “Finished. What do you think?”

  She eyed the wriggling flowers warily. “You do realize you only have a single night to create your dream, right?”

  “It won’t take long to stitch these together; it only took me half an hour to weave last night’s dream.”

  “But didn’t that pattern only require three flowers?”

  “Only because Angel insisted.”

  “Yes, what could she possibly know that you don’t?” Stardust muttered dryly. “You’d think you’d take her advice more seriously considering how much you respect her dreams.”

  I busied myself with rearranging my bouquet and didn’t answer, but a pinprick of doubt entered my heart. Was I being foolish to disregard Stardust’s advice? But what did she know about my abilities? I’d grown up seeing hundreds of dreams from different Weavers. Surely, I could duplicate their work without any trouble.

  Stardust shook her head. “You’re being extremely foolish, especially going against your more experienced weaving partner.”

  Darius. A shiver rippled over me at the thought of facing him. “He’s just trying to intimidate me.�
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  Stardust looked like she wanted to say more, but above us the moon dial chimed, signifying the hour the newborn mortals residing on our section of earth would be falling asleep. It was time for my first Weaving competition.

  I waited outside in the chilly night for Maci’s mother to rock her to sleep. As I shivered, I silently cursed the fact that I had to hide to avoid detection since I was the only Dreamer who could be seen by Mortals—yet another distinction I didn’t want to claim. I slipped through the window the moment her mother gently placed her in her cradle and left. In the faint light from the fire’s dying embers, Darius was nowhere to be seen.

  “Nervous?” Stardust asked.

  “I’m partnered with a Nightmare who thinks he’s the greatest Weaver the Universe has ever seen. Of course I’m nervous.” But my apprehension went deeper: it was also the way he made me feel, my strange need to trust him, that made me wary.

  “Don’t worry, it’s a well-known fact Nightmares’ heads are filled with nothing but hot air.”

  “No, just brains.” Darius stepped from the shadows, already gloating, but there was also a strange friendliness in his eyes and his smile. “Are you ready for the Weaving?”

  Before I could answer, something blue-grey darted from Darius’s hair across the spiderwebs lacing his cheek. I leapt back. “What was that?”

  “Bolt,” Darius said. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t bite.”

  A small head with eight milky-grey eyes poked out from behind Darius’s neck to whisper in his ear.

  “Yes, she’s the one I told you about,” Darius said.

  The tarantula-sized spider scurried down Darius’s arm on eight fuzzy legs, each of which snugly wore a knitted purple slipper, while bronze lightning bolts polka-dotted his body. A spider? How appropriate.

  Bolt studied me with a tilt of his head, all eight eyes unblinking. “I like her eyes; violet is my favorite color.” His voice was soft and silky. “And you’re right, she’s very pretty.”

  Darius whacked at him, but Bolt easily dodged it and jolted up his arm so quickly the movement blurred. “I never said that,” Darius stammered, his cheeks crimson.

  “But you did. You said—”

  Darius pinched Bolt’s mouth shut to silence him. “You’re strangely talkative tonight.”

  Bolt squirmed from Darius’s grip and perched on his shoulder. “That’s because I already know I’m going to like her.” His fangs glistened in the moonlight as he smiled at me.

  Great, the creepy spider liked me and my competition hated me. This was going terrifically so far.

  Bolt settled more comfortably on Darius’s shoulder, pulled out two sets of miniature knitting needles, and began to knit. I stared.

  Stardust yawned beside me. “Not that this little powwow isn’t fun,” she whispered, “but you should start weaving; babies wake up a lot throughout the night.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Darius asked. “Coming up with a battle plan?”

  Stardust morphed into a boulder. “Rethinking yours?”

  “There’s no need,” Darius said. “At the Academy I always received top marks for my dream blueprints. My weaving professor stated tonight’s nightmare was the best he’d ever seen for a newborn. I’ll easily weave myself to a glorious win.”

  Oh great, a pre-victory speech. “Don’t you tire of constantly praising yourself?”

  “How can I when it’s so deserved?” He winked.

  I didn’t have time for this. I fumbled with my bag while Darius leaned back, making no effort to retrieve his own supplies. He read the confusion in my expression. “I thought I’d give you a head start.”

  Stardust’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “Nightmares never give their competition a head start.”

  Darius simply shrugged. “It seems only fair; it must be difficult being partnered with someone with so much talent.”

  I rolled my eyes and jerked my bag open, and my flowers promptly seized the moment to escape. I tried to perform the summoning charm to bring them back, but nothing happened. One of the flowers tilted its petaled head quizzically, another shook theirs in blatant disobedience. Mischievous things.

  Stardust joined my chase, but they evaded us, skidding just out of reach of our grazing grasp. I panted for breath, conscious of Darius’s smirk.

  “You should help her,” Bolt said.

  Darius snorted. “Why? She’s being so entertaining.”

  Bolt poked Darius’s neck with his knitting needle. “Do the summoning charm.”

  Darius sighed, clearly contradicting his earlier insistence he wanted to help me. With a flick of his wrist and a trill of dream dust, the flowers gathered in a bouquet and floated into my waiting arms. Hot tears of frustration and humiliation stung my eyes, but I blinked them away before Darius saw and busied myself arranging my now perfectly still blossoms. But by the flicker of concern I briefly saw pass across his cocky expression, I knew he’d noticed.

  He cleared his throat. “Would you perhaps…like some help?”

  I stared at him, trying to make sense of his words and actions, before giving my head a rigid shake. He cocked an eyebrow.

  “Then perhaps you’d at least welcome some advice? That’s a lot of flowers, especially considering you’re not even building your details from scratch. Are you planning on using all of them?”

  “So what if I am?" I snapped, ignoring Stardust’s fluffiness squashing my ear and her I told you so hiss; I was regretting my earlier decision in allowing her to remain for emotional support. But it’d be a sign of weakness to back out now.

  I pulled out my needle and thread, trying to ignore the heat of Darius’s scrutinizing gaze. My hand shook as I wove, creating huge gaps between my stitches and several cut corners. Halfway through I noticed my threads were too big, which would make the dream less realistic, but I couldn’t unpick with Darius watching; undoubtedly every mistake would be reported directly to the Council. Why couldn’t we weave in private?

  I jumped when I felt Darius’s warm breath on my neck as he hovered over my shoulder. “What are you doing, Nemesis?”

  “Weaving.”

  He winced as one of my threads tore. “Comets. Here, let me.” He reached for my needle, but I shoved him off.

  “Stop it, you’ll ruin it.”

  “Like you need any help with that.”

  “Don’t you have your own weaving?”

  “After I prevent this meteor shower from happening. Let me help you.” He tugged on my needle. I shuddered as his fingers grazed mine and elbowed him.

  “Why bother? You’ve already made it perfectly clear you expect to win.”

  “Win, yes; slaughter, no. I didn’t expect your weaving would be this much of a disaster.”

  “Your watching me makes me nervous,” I said. “Turn away so I can fix it.”

  He frowned at me for a moment before he miraculously obeyed with another exaggerated sigh. A wave of relief immediately washed over me at being free from his scrutiny. I made sure he wasn’t peeking before I unpicked my threads and, stitch by stitch, slowly reconnected each detail with more delicate stitches.

  After several blissful critique-free minutes, Darius shifted restlessly. “Aren’t you done yet?”

  “Not quite.”

  “This is taking too long. At this rate we’ll be here all night. When I requested you for my weaving partner, I didn’t quite realize what I was getting myself into.”

  “If you’re so bored, why don’t you look in the mirror?”

  Bolt guffawed but Darius ignored the jab. “Your problem is you have too many flowers. You don’t need that many for a basic newborn dream. Dreams that touch on a Mortal’s emotions are what yield dream dust, not fancy or bloated stories.”

  Once again, Stardust flashed me her usual I told you so look, which I naturally ignored.

  “I only have two details,” Darius continued. “I could effortlessly weave them together and give Maci her nightmare before you’ve even finished.
I might as well; even if you manage to finish this century, I’m going to win.” He started to turn back around.

  “Don’t you dare,” I snapped. “You need to wait until I’m done. I deserve a chance after all my hard work.”

  He heaved another frustrated sigh but surprisingly obeyed.

  It took me several more minutes to fix my dream. Stardust kept muttering distracting advice under her breath and I had to frequently consult Weaving for Wusses, but I eventually completed the dream.

  “You can look now.” I cut my thread and held up my dream. It was rougher than some of my practice quilts, but there weren’t any gaps, and with the variety of flowers, the dream looked quite impressive.

  Darius stared at it. My cheeks warmed.

  “Is it terrible?” For some inexplicable reason I wanted his approval.

  “No.” His voice was actually rather gentle. “It’s actually not bad, despite it being too complex for a newborn. I admit I’m quite surprised.”

  “Is that a compliment?”

  “I said it wasn’t bad, but you have the potential for more; I wish you’d accepted my help.” He flexed his fingers. “Time to witness a real Weaver at work.”

  He pulled out a long, black needle and glistening green thread, the same he’d used to weave my nightmare nearly a month ago. He paused in threading it when he noticed me staring. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” I hastily tore my gaze away. The last thing I wanted to do was bring up the memory of my nightmare with him.

  Darius leisurely took out two black flowers, whose auras were too shadowy for me to discern, and grinned slyly at me. “You don’t have to wait for me; go ahead and give your dream to Maci.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “You’re being strangely friendly.” A bit too friendly.

  “I’m feeling generous,” he said. “Not to worry; despite my charity, tonight's Weaving won't even be a contest.”

  We would see. His two flowers wouldn’t be a match for my detailed dream, whose idea I’d borrowed from my notebooks; if it was strong enough to win a Weaving before, it could win tonight.

  I clutched the rocking chair next to Maci’s cradle to maintain my precarious balance in the air. As I draped my dream over her, I couldn’t help noticing Darius’s rapid weaving and tight, precise stitches until I became distracted by something bouncing in my peripheral vision—a glowing yellow orb had appeared directly above Maci, lighting up the room like a miniature sun. One quick glance at Darius and Bolt confirmed I was the only one who could see it. I quickly averted my gaze; it would be disastrous if I viewed the dream in front of a Nightmare who already found me suspicious.