“Never.” Aster’s voice is firm.
“It will free you of your pain.” Casimir tilts his head, studying Aster. “There is only peace within the vacuum of the Void.”
“Peace? Is that what you call the raging emptiness inside you?” Aster pushes to his feet and takes a couple staggering steps towardhis brother. “I’d rather have a mountain of agonizing emotions than none at all.” He holds Casimir’s gaze, his own eyes unwavering. “And what you call envy, I call pity.” With that, he pivots and walks away, oblivious to the burning glare of pure hatred Casimir sends him as he lifts Nana’s limp, lifeless frame into his arms.
“I would have killed you too if I could.” Casimir’s voice is cut from ice.
Aster turns slowly. “And I would have let you.” He casts a glance at the dark maelstrom still swirling around the site. “Eternity is nothing if not a curse.”
Wrapping the very air around himself and Nana, he disappears.
Casimir stands still, his jaw clenched, his fingers opening and closing as he stares at the spot where Aster disappeared. “Not even when she’s dead will he allow me to keep her.” He hurls a dagger, its blade piercing the very spot Aster was standing in. “I hate you!” His voice booms through the ruins.
Then his gaze snaps to mine.
“Look who’s come to visit. Again.” He tilts his head. “Can’t stay away from me, can you?”
I gasp as cold dread seizes me. He canseeme?
Seemingly well aware that I have no control over myself in this state, he walks toward me—where my dream body hovers in the air—at a leisurely pace.
My breath hitches. I need to get out of here. Out of this dream. Now. Panic surges through my whole body, heart pounding in my chest as I scream at myself to wake up.
“You are more resilient than an ashcrawl,” he murmurs in a chilling tone that causes shivers to creep down my spine.
With a sinister smile, he extends his hand, and from it burst writhing tendrils of darkness.
“He’s not even aware of what he’s done,” he whispers, his black tendrils caressing my skin. Their greasy touch makes me flinch, andhis features tighten into a grim, unyielding mask. “You don’t enjoy my touch.” It’s a statement, not a question. I have upset him.
Having witnessed firsthand how unhinged he can be, I fight to break free from his grip, but it is unyielding.
He clicks his tongue. “It’s because ofhim, isn’t it?” He palms one of his daggers, a cruel smile gracing his lips. “What is it that makes him so irresistible?” He cocks his head. “Please tell.”
My gaze flickers from his face to his dagger. Is it possible for him to kill me here in my dream state?
“The answer is yes.” He flicks his wrist, and the dagger flies toward me.
With sheer will, I wrench myself free of his tendrils, tearing away from his dark claws the very moment the dagger hits the lower abdomen of my dream body. Surprise washes over his face, and then he’s gone.
I gasp for air as I emerge from the depths of that unsettling dream, my body drenched in cold sweat. I may have gotten away—at least for now—but his chilling presence lingers.
Then a searing pain engulfs me, consuming my senses. A blazing fire has ignited within my abdomen. The pain pierces through my flesh, leaving a lingering, throbbing ache that refuses to subside. I gasp, bringing my fingers to the wound, then curse as warm liquid coats my hand. It’s so dark that I can barely see, but lifting my hand to my face, the metallic scent of blood is unmistakable.
I run my fingers over the cut in an attempt to determine the extent of the wound in the darkness. It extends from just above my left hip bone up toward my ribs, and although it has opened up my skin, it’s not too deep, half an inch at most. Nevertheless, there’s a significant amount of blood flowing out. I clench my teeth. Did I manage to elude several umbra and a horde of Kabarians only to be fatally stabbed while dreaming?
Lightheaded, I clutch the wound, holding it together with one hand while searching the ground around me for my pack. If only I had a flicker of light.
When I finally find it, I pull out the torn Kabarian robe and tear off a piece to use as a makeshift bandage. I need to clean the wound, but that will have to wait for the morning. There’s no way I can find my way to the creek in the darkness.
I settle back onto my bedroll. Though the urge to escape this place is strong, I recognize the impracticality of navigating these woods at night. The soul stars, barely visible through the treetops, extend their radiant beams toward me. The sight of their golden strings never ceases to amaze me. The way their countless delicate threads dance and intertwine, creating a beautiful display in the dark night, is almost enough to make me forget my wound. My wound. I shake my head, and the enchanting illusion dissipates.
Placing a hand on my makeshift bandage, I breathe a sigh of relief as I confirm it remains dry. “How did this even happen?” I say out loud to Maeve. “It shouldn’t have been possible to wound someone in a dream.”
I now regret that I never shared these dreams with anyone. Not the most intimate parts, of course, but the fact that I’m having these strange dreams. I should have asked Vilder when I had the chance. He would have known. I sigh. Reans and their magic remain largely a mystery to me, and tonight, my ignorance nearly killed me. Clearly, these dreams are not as innocent as other dreams.
I stare at the soul stars. “Do you know why?” I whisper toward them, but they’re as silent as ever.
I roll over onto my side, pulling my knees up toward my chest. What I witnessed in the dream must have taken place at least a millennium ago. From the bits and pieces I’ve gathered, Nana’s death was right before the Darkening. So, how is it that Casimir could still hurt me? Can he somehow enter my dreams, or—a chill moves down my spine—amImoving through time?
