59. Everett
Everett
Despite my anxiety, I fell asleep shortly after Vera, the feel of her back in my arms helping to settle the rising tide in my chest. But sleep didn’t last for long.
The familiar tug of my magic pulled me further from unconsciousness.
It was restless. Reaching. Searching. There were too many other minds in turmoil that called to my powers.
Eventually, I gave in.
It was like taking a step into nothingness. One second I was in my own mind, and the next, I walked through a veil until my feet landed in a new dream.
The brightness caught me off guard. Blue-gray sky, white snow, sun reflecting off layers of ice. Gray, snow-capped mountains in the distance. I recognized this—it was Drakorum. I glanced ahead to see a familiar figure trudging through the snow toward a log cabin, piles of chopped wood in her arms.
It was Tessa, but a younger version. Her hair was shorter, only a little past her shoulders, and framed her face in coils instead of the tight black braids I was used to seeing. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand and used her shoulder to shove open the cabin door.
I shouldn’t be watching this. This was Tessa’s private dream, and she didn’t even know I was here.
But my magic wouldn’t have pulled me in if she wasn’t in distress.
Tessa shared very little of her past, always showing the headstrong, vivacious jaguar Shifter we knew and loved.
I twisted my lips, trying to stave off my burning curiosity—but as the door nearly shut, my inquisitiveness won out.
I bolted forward and slipped soundlessly inside.
We were in a single-room cabin, with a fire crackling low in a hearth on the side, a bed against the back wall, and a heap of blankets and pillows strewn on the ground next to it. I used my illusions to cloak myself in shadows as Tessa approached the bed.
“Not a lot of good wood today, Mama,” she said, setting the chopped wood down and tucking blankets tighter around the figure laying in the bed. “If I had balls, they’d be freezing off right about now.”
Silence. There was no response from the person in the bed, and when I shifted closer, I saw the spitting image of Tessa in thirty years. Dark coils streaked with silver rested on the pillow, and her eyes were glassy, staring straight up at the ceiling.
Tessa swiped at her nose again, and that’s when I realized she was crying. Quiet tears slipped down her cheeks. She squeezed her mother’s hand. “Please, Mama,” she whispered. “I miss you.”
Her mother’s neck slowly, slowly turned to face her, and I could’ve sworn her joints creaked at the motion. I was about to force myself out of the dream when suddenly, blood trickled from the edge of her mother’s mouth.
Horror stopped me in my tracks. It was as if an invisible hand was sewing her mother’s lips shut. Black string flossed its way over both lips, leaving a trail of blood in its wake. Tessa screamed and tried to jump back, but her mother gripped her hand and pulled her in.
“Mama!” she cried. “Mama, no!”
I reached for Tessa, but there was a tug on the magic in my chest, the only warning before I was yanked from the dream. I flew through a sea of darkness before my feet planted once more in someone’s subconscious.
I struggled to get the image of Tessa’s mother out of my head, barely registering the fact that the ground was moving.
Stumbling to the side, a mixture of shouts, rain, and waves roared around me.
I was on a ship. It was dark outside, with a storm battering the sides of the vessel fiercely enough to make me lose my balance.
Whose dream was this?
I looked around for a face I recognized and saw a man at the helm with a blond beard and tricorn hat: Captain Starke. He barked commands to the crew, and his men swarmed around me left and right. Grasping the rail, I staggered closer to Starke, curious to see why I was pulled into his mind.
His features were hard and focused. But then something caught his eye, and blood drained from his face.
I followed his line of sight to find a man, woman, and two younger boys standing amidst the chaos of the deck.
Wind whipped around them, making their hair and clothes fly in all directions, but they remained motionless.
“You have to get out!” Starke called to them, hurrying from the helm. “He’s going to get you. Please, get away while you can!”
He tugged at the older man, who didn’t move. Starke shook the woman’s shoulders. “Mother, why are you just standing here? Get Tommy and Roderick out of here.”
This must be his family. His fear was so palpable, I felt it bleeding into the dream—his jerky movements, the wide eyes, the shaky voice. Was this a nightmare, or a memory?
The wind shifted. It turned ice cold and sharp, like daggers pelting my skin. A hooded, faceless being floated from the water and over the rail. The edge of its long cloak trailed behind it like ribbons. Starke screamed and jumped in front of his family, shielding the two boys from the new threat.
“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go!” he pleaded. “Please, don’t take them!”
The figure raised a hand and swiped it across Starke’s father’s face, gouging deep marks in the skin. Blood sprayed. The man fell to his knees, then slumped to the side. When it reached for the youngest boy, Starke tucked him into his side. “Please!” he gasped. “I’ll do anything!”
A voice slithered from the depths of the water. “Anything?”
Something about the sound raised a memory.
But before I could jump to help Starke and his brothers, the ground disappeared once more.
My magic heaved my subconsciousness away and sent me spiraling through nothingness.
Dreams of the others in the palace passed by, shimmering like a waterfall.
A series of images rushed over me, faster and faster until I had to close my eyes from the onslaught, when suddenly—
I crashed to a solid, dusty surface. Low torchlight flickered off the nearby walls.
A stone ceiling arched above me, and an eerie tunnel stretched ahead into the darkness.
After the cacophony of the ship, the silence here was overwhelming.
The only thing I could hear was steady footsteps behind me.
I whirled to find familiar gray robes whisking farther down the tunnel, heading away from me.
I quietly followed the figure. Based on the long, white hair, I figured this was Arcadia’s dream.
The longer I walked, the more my stomach churned.
Shuffling feet and scurrying creatures accentuated the beat of my pulse.
When Arcadia came to a halt at the end of the tunnel, I pressed myself flat against the wall, hoping he wouldn’t turn around.
What he did was even more unexpected.
He shifted his fingers into a claw and cut his own hand until blood trickled to the ground, then shoved his bloody palm into the wall.
Starting at the center, the stone disappeared outward, eating away at itself to reveal what lay beyond.
Soon, it was large enough for Arcadia to pass through.
Once he vanished into the new chamber, I rushed forward to slip inside.
I stopped dead in my tracks. A wall of fire flared to life, running along the entire back half of the rectangular cavern. I shielded my eyes against the sudden brightness, but not before I saw what lay in the rest of the chamber.
At first I thought they were statues. Rows upon rows of bodies stood upright in narrow alcoves, each positioned with uncanny precision. Their arms were at their sides, heads slightly tilted, mouths parted as if they were speaking.
But when I got close enough to the first row, I realized they weren’t speaking—they were screaming.
Skin stretched tight across their faces, and faint cracks spidered over their exposed limbs.
The flesh was split like clay drying in a fire.
Bile crawled up my throat. The edges of their skin looked charred, as if they had been burned from the inside out.
Horror sank like a boulder in my chest. They looked like the drawing I’d seen in the Inner Sanctum.
Ahead of me, Arcadia suddenly stopped. He spun on his heels so quickly, I didn’t have time to move. When his eyes met mine, surprise reflected back at me.
His eyes widened. “You?”
Without thinking, I bolted from the catacombs, his footsteps thundering behind me. This is just a dream. We couldn’t harm each other here. I had to get back to my body. I had to—
I woke with a gasp, jolting upright in the bed. I blinked several times to clear the fuzziness, still disoriented from the dreams. My magic slingshotted back into me and made my chest heave with exertion.
I looked over to see Vera still sleeping beside me, blonde hair pillowed around her like a cloud. “Vera, wake up,” I whispered, nudging her shoulder. “I need to tell you something.”
Nothing. I gripped her shoulder harder. “Wake up, Vera. Can you hear me?”
She didn’t even stir. I kept shaking her, but there was no response.
Panic engulfed me as I got on my knees and pressed my ear to her lips.
Warm breath puffed against my cheek, and I exhaled.
She was alive, but she wouldn’t wake up.
Foreign magic lingered in the air, so thick I could taste it. Had they done something to her?
Footsteps sounded down the hall, and I instantly tensed. They were coming.
I did the only thing I could think of. I closed my eyes and dove into Vera’s dream.