“I’ve made a decision,” I tell them. “I’m ready to join the rebellion.”
CHAPTER 76
Durvla
Night fallsand I continue to stare down at Taig as he slumbers peacefully in the middle of the large bed. Tiernan stands beside me, an arm around my shoulders. He tilts his head into my view and signs to me, “He’s adorable. But where arewesleeping?”
I snort a laugh, swiping at a stray tear that slips down my cheek.
Concern immediately wipes the amusement from Tiernan’s face. He gently turns me to face him. “Taig is safe. You are safe. We made it to the Verge, and you saw those wards and the fortifications… They’ve fortified it evenmorenow since our arrival. We’re protected here.”
“Yes, but we have no idea how strong those people who attacked us are. For how long will we be safe?”
He shakes his head, his lips curving up into a soft smile. “Optimistic as ever.”
I shrug and smile wryly at him. Just as I turn back to Taig, my mouth waters unpleasantly from a sudden tang of metal. Colors swirl in my vision and I grab Tiernan’s shoulder. “Ti—” It’s all I can say before invisible hands tug me into an abyss.
The world warps,and I find myself, once again, standing in the middle of dark tunnels. I’m on the cold ground, pulling in harsh breaths.Think, I tell myself. Haruka said something about Dreamwalkers and dreamscapes. I just need to remember.
I draw in breath after breath and rein in my thoughts.
A practiced Dreamwalker can also interact with the person dreaming, and sometimes, influence their dreams.
I search for any sign of light—any indication of the right direction. A candle flickers in the distance. No, not a candle. A strange flame of orange and black, seemingly floating in midair. It flickers until I blink, then it’s gone. I draw in a shuddery breath.
Haruka’s words come back to mind:there are also certain Mages able to distort another person’s dreamscape or even what they see while they’re awake.
Like Basduunai.
Closing my eyes, I pour all my focus into blocking out the panic of this familiar darkness. An ethereal voice emanates from everywhere and nowhere all at once—the haunting sound fills the void, singing the same lullaby I’m so familiar with.
“Let Sunlagh take you by the hand
To the land beyond the veil.”
The voice continues, speaking rather than singing, but its tone is musical, soothing. “There is a fine line between the realm of dreams and the realm of the dead…
Let Sunlagh take you by the hand
To the land beyond the veil.”
The strange, yet familiar presence disappears, and Carys’s pours in, her distress, despair, anger, and melancholy so pungent that I can almost taste them. A taunting voice mocks Ellynne’s death. Grief kicks me in the gut, and I press my hand against the cool, moist wall, one arm around my middle as though the blow were physical.
Pain lances through my body.
But this is not my pain. I repeat the reminder. It’s notmypain.
A new disembodied voice fills my head. A memory that isn’t mine. A man’s voice that I don’t recognize: “It’s not your fault.” Then Ellynne’s voice: “You have the hair of a princess, but the heart of a warrior.”
I latch on to the voices, tapping into those particular memories—Carys’s memories. Of her brother. Of Ellynne. More words that aren’t mine pour into my mind, equal parts meaningless and perfectly comprehensible. They’re not just words of the past, not just memories—they’re too relevant, omniscient.
Like they’re coming from beyond.
The land beyond… the Veil? Chills whisper against the back of my neck.
“Sunlagh…? Was that really your voice?” I say into the void, but there’s no response. She’s already given me the answer—I just need to figure out how to do what I need to do. Goddess, give me strength.
With great hesitation, I walk toward the strange black and orange flame in the distance. Carys has been utterly abandoned by everyone she’s ever cared about and everyone who’s cared about her.
