Chapter 17 Elle #3
“Absolutely yes.” He was already grinning, that rare expression that transformed his entire face. “When’s the next time you’ll get to jump on magical mushrooms in a dream?”
“This is ridiculous.”
“This is perfect.” He tugged my hand, pulling me toward the nearest mushroom. “Trust me.”
Before I could protest further, he stepped onto the mushroom’s cap.
It compressed slightly under his weight, then launched him upward with a springing sound that was somehow both musical and hilarious.
He flipped in the air—showing off—and landed on a higher mushroom, which sent him bouncing to another.
“Your turn!” he called down, grinning.
I couldn’t help it—I smiled too. Then I ran and jumped.
The mushroom caught me with a bounce that sent me soaring. My stomach dropped in that wonderful way of freefall, and then I was flying, the wind rushing through my hair as I arced through the air. I landed on another mushroom with a giggle that surprised me.
“This is insane!” I shouted, bouncing to the next one.
“This is Wynmire!” Kaelren bounced past me, graceful as a cat. “Everything’s insane!”
We bounced from mushroom to mushroom, the bioluminescence leaving trails of light in the air.
Each landing sent up puffs of glowing spores that tasted like lavender and sweet wine.
I found myself doing flips, trying increasingly ridiculous aerial maneuvers just to make Kaelren laugh—and gods, when he laughed, really laughed, it was like the sun breaking through clouds.
“Catch me!” I called, launching myself from a particularly tall mushroom toward him.
He did, arms wrapping around me as we both landed on a mushroom together. The momentum sent us bouncing higher, tangled together, laughing so hard we could barely breathe. When we finally landed on solid ground, we were both glowing with spore-dust and grinning like idiots.
“That was—” I started.
“Amazing,” he finished, still holding me. “You’re amazing.”
The clearing around us shifted, reality bleeding into something new.
Now we stood at the edge of a vast meadow that stretched to a horizon made of dreams. The grass wasn’t green—it was every color of the rainbow, each blade a different hue that shifted when the wind touched it. And the creatures…
“Oh my gods,” I breathed.
The meadow was alive with impossible animals. Deer made of porcelain and pearl pranced past, their antlers branching into trees that bloomed with tiny stars. Rabbits with butterfly wings hopped between flowers that were larger than they were. A fox with four tails watched us with knowing eyes.
Overhead, sprites danced in spirals—tiny beings of pure light that left trails of laughter in the air. They wove between each other in patterns that made my throat tight with wonder, their joy so palpable I could taste it.
“It’s like every fairytale I ever read as a kid,” I said, unable to look away. “Every magical creature, all in one place.”
“This is the Wynmire I grew up knowing,” Kaelren said softly, and there was something raw in his voice.
“Before all the rot and corruption. This is everything I hoped I could show you.” He turned to me, and his expression was more open than I’d ever seen it.
“I don’t know how much longer we have in this dream, but I have one more place I would like you to see before this is over. ”
A unicorn approached us—not the white horse kind, but something stranger and more wonderful.
It had the body of a stag, scales instead of fur that reflected light like opals, and a spiral horn that seemed to be made of frozen lightning.
It lowered its head to me in a gesture that felt like a blessing, and when I touched its nose, I felt the entire realm pulse through my fingertips.
My breath caught in my throat. This wasn’t just a dream—this was Kaelren showing me what he was fighting for. What he’d lost. What he wanted to protect.
“Thank you,” I whispered, not sure if I was thanking the unicorn or him.
The unicorn dissolved into mist that spiraled upward, joining the dancing sprites.
Kaelren took my hand again. “Come on.”
The meadow faded, and we were walking through a forest of giant ferns and flowering vines. The air here was thick with perfume and possibility, warm and humid in a way that made my skin tingle. I could hear water rushing nearby, growing louder with each step.
We emerged into a hidden grotto, and I stopped breathing.
A waterfall poured down from heights I couldn’t see, but it wasn’t made of water.
Light fell instead—actual light that flowed and splashed, ranging from ghost-pale where it was thin to deep bronze where it thickened.
When it struck the pool below, the collision produced music: clear ringing tones that traveled through the ground and into my bones.
The pool’s surface remained smooth as glass everywhere except where the falls disturbed it, and when I looked into that mirror-stillness, I didn’t see my reflection.
I saw other things: moments that hadn’t happened yet, scenes from different choices, glimpses of paths not taken.
Around the edges of the pool, impossible plants took root in the moss-covered stone.
Flowers opened petals made of actual flame—red and orange and blue—that gave off warmth but left nothing scorched when I brushed against them.
Vines climbed the rocks, heavy with fruit that wasn’t quite solid: translucent spheres that chimed when they knocked together, each one holding what looked like captured giggles frozen mid-sound.
Lily pads broad as dining tables drifted across the surface, and perched on them were tiny people no bigger than my thumb.
They had dragonfly wings that blurred with movement and faces that were fully formed—sharp little grins and knowing eyes that tracked my every move with obvious amusement.
“It’s perfect,” I breathed.
“It’s ours,” Kaelren said. “For tonight, at least.”
Then, without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside.
I forgot how to breathe.
I’d felt his body before—through combat, through the bond, through stolen moments of closeness. But seeing him like this, in the dream-light of this impossible place, was something else entirely.
His torso was a canvas of controlled violence.
Lean muscle carved sharp lines across his chest and abdomen, the kind of build that came from years of fighting.
His carved marks continued down from his face and neck, spreading across his shoulders and chest in intricate patterns that seemed to pulse with their own light here in the dream.
They should have been ugly—self-inflicted scars born of desperation.
Instead, they were mesmerizing, like watching lightning frozen in skin.
But it wasn’t just the marks or the muscle that made my mouth go dry.
It was the scars. So many scars. Some thin and precise—knife wounds.
Others jagged and brutal—claws, perhaps, or worse.
A few looked like burns, twisted tissue that had healed wrong.
Each one was a story of survival, of a man who’d been broken and refused to stay that way.
“You’re staring,” he said, and there was dark satisfaction in his voice.
“You knew I would,” I managed.
“I hoped you would.” He moved to the edge of the pool, the light catching on his skin. “Are you coming, or are you going to keep pretending you don’t want to?”
It wasn’t a request. It was a challenge.
My flower dress dissolved at a thought, and I was grateful for dream-logic that let me skip the awkward process of undressing.
His eyes tracked over me with the same hunger I’d felt looking at him, but he didn’t move closer—just waited at the water’s edge like a predator giving prey one last chance to run.
I didn’t run.
I walked to the pool’s edge, and without giving myself time to second-guess, I dove in.
The water—if it could be called water—was perfect. Warm but not hot, with a texture like satin against my skin. It seemed to hum with the same magic that filled everything in this dreamscape, making every nerve ending sing with sensation.
I surfaced to find Kaelren already in the water beside me, droplets of liquid sliding down his chest and catching in the hollows of his collarbones. His hair was slicked back, making the sharp angles of his face even more pronounced.
“Show off,” I said.
“You dove in first,” he pointed out, moving closer. “What does that make you?”
“Impulsive?”
“Brave.” His hand found my waist under the water, pulling me closer. “Or reckless. I haven’t decided which I prefer.”
We swam together, and it was easy—playful even. He showed me how the mystical water responded to movement, creating patterns and ripples that sang different notes depending on how you disturbed them. I splashed him, and he retaliated by pulling me under briefly, both of us emerging laughing.
This was Kaelren without the weight of failure, without the corruption eating him alive. This was who he might have been if the world hadn’t broken him.
“There’s something behind the waterfall,” he said after a while, nodding toward the cascade of light. “Want to see?”
I did.
We swam toward it, the current creating resistance that made us work for it. But then we were through, behind the curtain of radiance, in a hidden alcove where the sound of the waterfall created a cocoon of privacy.
The alcove was lined with moss that glowed softly, providing gentle light.
The air was thick with mist that tasted like magic and promises.
And the way Kaelren was looking at me—like I was something he wanted to devour and worship in equal measure—made every nerve in my body light up with anticipation.
“Elle,” he said, and my name in his mouth sounded like a prayer and a threat.
“Kaelren,” I replied, moving closer.
He caught me before I could close the distance, one hand fisting in my wet hair, tilting my head back. “I need you to understand something.”
“What?”