Chapter 4
Anja
Everything around me is hazy as a sheen of white fog fills the air. I wave my hands around, trying to find something concrete to hold onto.
Shadows move beyond the mist, growing closer, then more distant, and there's an almost constant wail floating around in the background, as if the mist itself is screaming.
Panic starts to rise within me, and I try my best not to let it consume me.
It's just a dream.
I'm asleep, that's all this is.
Lies.
I don't know if I think the word, or if the mist is talking to me. It doesn't help with the panic.
The rush of water calls my attention, and I turn towards it, compelled by forces I can't fully explain or put a name to. I'm certainly not as in control of myself as I wish I was.
I can't hear my feet against the ground, and the air is weirdly still, especially considering the presence of the mist. I don't know what to make of it.
An old woman with skin as deathly pale as mine appears by the edge of the river, a white dress in her hands.
I try to call to her, to ask her what she wants, but no words come from my mouth. Despite that, she turns to me, revealing my own face staring back at me.
A loud scream rips through me even in the dream. I can feel it from the pit of my stomach, all the way up to the pressure behind my temples. There's almost something supernatural about it, though I can't put my finger on what it is.
The mist, the woman, and the wailing fade in an instant. My eyes snap open, revealing the darkness of my room to me. I stare at the ceiling and take some deep breaths while I try to remind myself that it's just a dream. A bad one, but nothing more than a nightmare.
A thin sheen of sweat covers my entire body, my breathing is rapid, and my throat is sore from screaming. I touch my neck, almost surprised to discover that it feels exactly the same as normal. Somehow, that isn't right. Something feels as if it's shifted for me, but I don't know what.
With my breathing back under control, I roll over and search for my water bottle, grabbing it so I can take a drink, but there's nothing in it.
I groan. I refilled it before I went to bed, I should still have plenty to see me through until morning.
I throw back the covers, knowing that there won't be any sleep for at least another hour.
I don't know whether it's the dream itself, or something else.
But when I've had similar dreams in the past, the aftereffects have lingered for a while.
Though I don't remember a dream as vivid as this one before.
A chill travels through me the moment my feet hit the cold ground. I reach around for a robe to throw over my sleep shirt, almost giving up on finding it when my hand finds it. It's better than nothing, and I'm going to be back in bed before long anyway.
There aren't any sounds around me, and it seems as if I haven't woken any of my flatmates who are all sleeping soundly in their rooms. If it wasn't for the pain in my throat and the exhaustion in every inch of my body, I'd think that the screams were just in my head.
Though that only raises more questions than it answers.
How am I screaming in the middle of the night and no one can hear it?
I should probably ask Mum about some of this, but I can't bring myself to.
Either she'll get super excited about my powers finally showing themselves, or she'll start worrying that I'm manifesting in a way she can't understand.
No matter how I look at it, it isn't good.
I get to my feet and pull on my robe, glad for the warmth even if the cold is probably just in my mind.
My gaze strays to my shut bathroom door.
Perhaps a moment to freshen myself up before I venture out into the flat.
I set my bottle back down and head into it, running some cold water and splashing it over my face.
I meet my gaze in the mirror and shudder at how bad I look.
It shouldn't be possible for me to get paler, and yet I seem to have managed.
To make matters worse, my roots are starting to show brilliant silver-white.
Which shouldn't be possible. That's not how the potion Mum brews for me works.
It should give me full coverage until it wears off.
I shake my head. It's probably all in my imagination. I'm tired and still in the haze of the dream. I pull my attention away from my reflection and leave the bathroom and the haunting reflection behind, grabbing my bottle so I can venture down the hall to the kitchen.
My flatmates' doors are firmly shut, clearly not having heard a whisper of my screams. That, along with the moonlight drifting into the corridor through the window, give it an eerie feeling.
I push those thoughts aside and enter the kitchen, going straight to the tap so I can fill my bottle.
I drink half of it down before I even leave the sink.
My throat is still raw from the dream-scream, but the water at least makes it feel a little better.
If it's still like this in the morning, I can go down to the infirmary and ask for something to help with it, hopefully, they won't ask too many questions that I won't be able to answer.
Satisfied that things are as good as they're going to get, I turn to head back to my room when a soft tapping stops me in my tracks, causing my heart to race and all kinds of panicked thoughts to slip through my mind. I search around frantically in an attempt to work out where it's coming from.
A shadow behind one of the kitchen windows catches my eye just as a raven hops through the open pane. It cocks its head to the side and studies me, almost as if it's curious.
I take a step towards it, expecting it to fly away and am somewhat surprised when it doesn't.
"Hello," I say softly.
It switches the side its head is at, making me certain that it understands me.
"I'm Anja."
It lets out a soft caw, startling me and making me jump.
The expression in its eyes suggests that it isn't too impressed with my reaction.
"Well, I didn't expect to be talking to a raven in the middle of the night," I point out. "If you don't want me to jump and freak out, then you should find me during the day instead."
The raven hops about a bit.
"Why am I even talking to a bird?" I mutter. I'm not someone who can talk to animals. I know people who can, but not me. No doubt it's just because I'm delirious after the dream. "All right, I'm going back to bed," I say to the raven.
It lets out another caw.
"I need to sleep."
Caw.
I shake my head. This isn't like me at all.
"All right, good night," I say to the raven, waving to it as if it might understand me.
Caw.
It nudges its beak against something, as if it's pushing it towards me. I frown and reach out to pick it up and investigate. A shiny black button sits in the moonlight.
"Is this for me?"
The raven bobs its head.
"I'm not sure I have anything for you," I admit, putting my hand into my robe pocket. I know better than to not give a reciprocal trade to a raven.
I pull out a single coin and hold it out to the raven. "This is all I have."
It cocks its head to the side.
Right. It probably doesn't understand me. I replace the button with the coin. "For you. Thank you for the treasure." I run my fingers over the button, feeling weirdly attached to it even if I have no reason to be, other than a random raven gave it to me in the middle of the night.
The raven flaps its wings and reaches down to pick up the coin in its beak. For one horrible moment, I think it might choke on it, but that seems unlikely when it was able to bring me the button.
"Goodnight," I say to the bird.
It hops away and launches itself into the air, flying back to wherever it came from.
I stifle a yawn, trying not to overthink the interaction. The dream still lingers in my mind, but I feel a bit better after talking to the raven. I need to sort out these dreams or I'm going to end up being even weirder than I thought I was in the first place.