10. Obedience as Strategy #2
Allora sat up abruptly. He looked different than before, no longer faceless.
There was a mouth now, strange and lipless, a thin line that moved when he spoke.
His hair had grown longer, silver curls spilling past his shoulders, catching the strange light of the dreamscape.
His nose was more defined, small and delicate.
Those enormous black eyes looked more real now, more humanoid, though still unsettling in their depth.
And he was taller, no longer the size of a toddler but closer to a young child of perhaps five or six years.
She narrowed her eyes. "The dragonflies... that was you all this time, wasn’t it?"
The child tilted his head, nodding once. "They are my windows into the world of reality. I cannot go there yet, so I send them. They watch for me and help you."
"Why?" she asked sharply, her tone more accusation than gratitude. "Why the hell are you even helping me? We don't know each other."
The child's eyes glinted like pools of ink. "That is not true. We know each other very well. You simply do not remember."
Allora let out a bark of humorless laughter. "You are super weird, you know that? You need friends your own age."
He ignored her jab, turning instead to the tangled vines at the edge of the clearing. From beneath them, he dragged a sphere the size of a melon, a glass globe, murky yet glowing faintly from within. "This is my eye. It lets me see your world."
Allora leaned forward, studying it warily.
The child spoke again, his voice clear, solemn. "I am strong enough now to help you escape, if that is what will make you happy. I have my strength back, because I no longer give mine away to keep you alive."
Her mouth fell open. "You've been giving me energy this whole time?"
He nodded. "I must. If you die, I cannot enter your world. And I must enter. I came for you."
"For me?" Her brow furrowed. "Why? This world sucks. Why would you even want to?"
The child looked at the orb, placing it carefully on a pillar meant to hold it, his head dipping slightly. "Because I came for you. To be with you again. You do not remember... but you will."
She stared at him, her chest tightening with a confusion she didn't want to name. With an exasperated sigh, she demanded, "Fine. Then tell me what this place is exactly, this dreamscape."
The child straightened, his posture suddenly ancient, his voice swelling with a weight that belied his small body.
"This is a psychic's domain. Only the strongest can create such a place.
Each has their own. Others may enter if invited, but I have brought you here though you are not psychic.
It is mine, and I allow you to walk it."
Allora scoffed. "Wish I was. Then I could mind-fuck Malec into insanity. God, I'd pay to see that." She laughed at her own joke.
The child turned those black eyes on her, unamused. "That one is dangerous. He killed one of my dragonflies. I do not like him."
"Neither do I," she said flatly. "That's why I need a way out."
And so she told him her plan, the timing, what Kirelle had given her. The child listened without interruption, his solemn gaze following her every word.
Then the dreamscape shuddered. The ground wavered under her, the stars above flickering. The child's small hands clutched his head. "I must go. That one is back. He will kill another."
Panic surged. "Then wake me up!"
The child pointed to the orb, glowing brighter now. "Touch the eye. It will take you back."
Allora sprinted toward it. Just before she pressed her hand against its surface, she turned back. "I'll protect your dragonflies. I promise."
Her palm hit the glowing orb. And her eyes snapped open.
She was smothered in heat, pressed against a chest like a wall of stone. Malec's arms were locked tight around her, his breath ragged against her hair.
"Allora," he rasped, panic thick in his voice. "Are you all right? What happened? You were unconscious. I couldn't wake you."
Her head spun. She shoved lightly at his chest until he eased his hold, her gaze darting around. The light through the windows was dusky, late afternoon shadows stretching across the floor. She had been asleep for hours, though it had felt like twenty minutes at most.
Then her eyes caught on Luko. He stood a few feet away, gold eyes wide as he held a small object between his fingers. The dragonfly, its wings trapped, body struggling.
Allora's fury snapped back. She scrambled from Malec's lap and crossed the room in three strides. She pinched Luko hard on the arm. "Let it go! It's a friend, not an enemy!"
Startled, Luko released it instinctively. The dragonfly shot upward, wings correcting in a sharp blur, and zipped straight for the window, vanishing into the sky.
Malec surged to his feet, furious. "You should not have let it go!"
Allora spun on him, her eyes flashing. "It's a familiar, from a spirit that's trying to help me! It gave me its energy. That's why I survived the withdrawals!"
Malec froze, arms half-outstretched as if he meant to gather her close again. His face was etched with worry, but his hands trembled where they hovered, uncertain.
Luko, meanwhile, just stared at her as though she had gone completely mad.
Malec's voice was a growl of restrained fury. "Explain the spirit, Allora. What was that creature?"
She turned on him, black eyes pointed, her tone cutting. "I don't want to talk to you. I'm mad at you, for being a dick. Simple enough for you to grasp?"
Luko scoffed loudly, throwing his hands up.
"Great. Just brilliant. You let the little beast go, so now I'll never be able to analyze it.
What a waste. Wonderful job, both of you.
" His words dripped with sarcasm as he stalked toward the door, muttering, "It's dinner time anyway.
Maybe you can yell at each other over soup. " He slammed the door shut behind him.
The silence that followed was thick. Malec stood rigid, fighting down the knot of anger and panic churning in him. His father's words echoed in his head: Give, don't only take. If she comes back to you, that is trust. He forced a slow breath, releasing the tension in his shoulders.
"Allora..." His voice cracked softer now. "You frightened me. You were not waking, and I..." He faltered, sighing, not knowing how to form an apology, only knowing that he needed to reach her before she closed the last door between them.
Cautiously, he extended a hand, resting it lightly on her elbow, testing, waiting to see if she'd let him close.
She flinched.
His chest twisted at the recoil, but he pressed on. "I want to apologize... for forcing my blood into you and drugging you. I know it upset you to lose control of yourself. I only wanted to keep you alive."
Allora turned her head and gave him a look, accusing and expectant, that clearly said and? What she didn't say pressed down on him harder than words would have.
He raised his brows, genuinely confused. “Did you want me to say anything else?”
She huffed hard through her nose, shoved her hands over her face, and held them there, muffling the sound of a scream threatening to break free.
Then she dropped them abruptly and snapped at him, her voice hoarse with frustration.
"Do you even know why it actually upset me?
Do you even care? Or are you just going to do the same damn thing the next time you decide my wishes don't matter? "
Malec straightened, every muscle in his body locking. His answer came instantly, unflinching. "If your life is in danger, I will do what I must to keep you breathing. I will not apologize for that."
Her mouth tightened. She dropped her hands to her sides, shaking her head as if he had just confirmed everything she already knew. Without another word, she marched for the door.
Her voice cut over her shoulder. "Then enjoy fucking your hand for the rest of your life. Because you won't be getting it from me."
Malec froze, stunned by her words, his face slack as he processed them. Then the meaning hit him, slamming into his chest. His eyes widened, and he stumbled forward. "Allora, what? Clarify what you mean!"
But she kept moving, refusing to look back. She pushed the door open and disappeared into the hall, heading straight for the dining room.
Behind her, Malec's voice rang low and desperate, echoing off the walls. But she ignored it, her steps steady. He had given her the reminder she needed: this had to end, and her plan to run was the only way forward.
Surian and Luko treaded carefully over their meal, each mindful not to spark one of the quarrels that always hovered close when Malec and Allora shared a table.
The round breakfast table was small, intimate, forcing them all within reach of each other, a strange sort of family gathered by fate and now, despite the constant threats of fire, beginning to settle into somewhat of a rhythm.
Surian sat rigid, her back never quite touching the chair.
The bruise from earlier ached, a reminder of the moment her brother had shoved her without thought, too locked onto Allora to notice the railing catching her side.
He hadn't apologized or even acknowledged what happened. His single focus was Allora.
But Allora had noticed. And because Surian had always been the one to tend to her, fussing and caring like a sister when Allora was raw and untethered, she decided the moment had come to return that care.
She rose, crossed the room, and plucked a soft cushion from another chair.
Without asking, she slipped it behind Surian, urging her to lean back.
Then she turned to Luko, her tone unyielding.
"Did you even check her?"
Luko's brows rose, but he spread his hands in defeat. "She won't let me near. Talandros pride."
Allora sighed, annoyed with both of them. "At least put ice on it before it bruises." Her gaze landed on Malec like a verdict.