《Dreamscape》


 Chased

    It was dream logic. But the thing about dream logic is you never know that''s what it is until you''re awake. Or lucid. Malina was neither.


    Because she was being chased, she ran. The entity chasing her wasn''t one she''d yet seen, only felt. It might not have been there at all except for intimate dream-knowledge that told Malina it was there and was hunting her, getting closer with every breath. There was nothing to do but flee or die trying. In an abyss populated by herself and countless trembling, handless fingers, Malina heard the hollow plod of her own footfalls as if she were running across the stretched leather surface of a drum. She wasn''t on fire but felt the heat in her veins, superfast searing pulses to match her heartbeat as the thing chasing her hastened its pursuit. It was fast, faster than her and she knew it. She felt it getting bigger behind her the closer it rushed, and with that dream-knowledge came a cognitive impression of its maw gone wide, eager to engulf.


    They say if you die in a dream you wake up in the real world, but that''s not the sort of thing a nightmare allows you to remember. In dreams, all is real. That''s the true threat of nightmares. They rob the dreamers of their sanity. Malina had no way of remembering she wasn''t in physical danger¡ªsetting all spiritual dangers aside¡ªand in her terror, the dreamscape morphed from one kind of scenery to the next to the next in a haphazard conglomeration of memory and metaphor.


    The sides of the abyss grew into crimson trees, the trembling fingers along the path congealing into fleshy brambles that tangled underfoot. The nails scraped Malina''s ankles, clumsy as they drained her blood. She tripped but kept her feet, fighting an urge to glance behind her to see the thing chasing her for what it was. The trees'' sap turned to blood and their bark morphed into her red high school locker hallway, more fingers waggling out at her¡ªlonger now, with nails sharp as talons¡ªfrom the slats below each number, so it seemed there might be people trapped inside, forever cramped between the rusty metal, shoved there by some bully or another, never to escape. A lurch of her own heart took her to the sticky, gummed-up hallway floor. Like most schools, the end of the hall ended in a double door. It banged three times then burst open, the thing that chased her slamming through, but Malina couldn''t bear to see what the chaser was. Dream logic told her it was dangerous to look, so she scrambled away, climbing the dreamscape that had once again transformed. The lockers and their fingers tilted and grew tall, as if made of putty that someone had begun to stretch. This lengthening molded itself into a new shape, which she ran along but couldn''t place as anything coherent. Mostly, it was tight and full of embers.


    Abruptly, but inexplicably expectedly, she gained a companion, a blue lady who appeared in that way of dreams as if the change, once changed, had always been there. Reason didn''t bother interrupting. In dreams, there''s no reason except the spontaneous familiar. Besides blue skin, this new dream lady had purple hair and crimson eyes, and she jogged out of sync with Malina as if caught in a time bubble of her own, waggling her fingers in a friendly but unsettling approximation of the previous finger laden scenery. She appeared unbothered that Malina was running for her life. With the cheerful way this blue lady kept up, maybe she wasn''t running the same track as Malina in more than just the temporal sense. The blue lady didn''t seem bothered by anything.


    "Y''know," said the blue lady. "Times like these it''s good to call for help."


    "Help," panted Malina.


    "My bad, not from me. Akki''s better at helping dreamers. Just gotta scream loud enough for her to hear. Call her name three times oughtta work. Crystal once told me there''s power in the number three."


    Malina had been running so long and so hard she felt rubbery and warbled, as if she were the dying note of a pitchy song played through a discorded instrument. She clung onto the thinnest final thread of her sanity as dread shimmied between the discs of her spine, but something about Akki''s name resonated with her, ignited a second wind she was sure wouldn''t come until the moment it rose up from within. Call for Akki. Worth a shot. At this point, anything was worth a shot if it got the chaser to stop hunting her. If it got her out of here, wherever here was. All that was around were dwindling fires. Ash and cracked wood underfoot. Dream-knowledge corrected her. Not cracked wood. Singed finger bones.


    "Deep breath!" The blue lady pumped a fist in the air, slow from the time distortion even though her voice was the right pace, practically cheering her words. "Fill your lungs!"


    Malina wheezed as much air as she could. It hurt.


    "Now scream so loud it crosses through dreams!"


    "Akki!" Malina screamed, and it was the scream of the truly desperate, that full body lung burning pitch high in the chest that boils the throat. "Akki! Akki!" The sound crossed the dreamscape, past the fingers through the abyss beyond the chaser over the murk, where it found its recipient: a fair woman with long, billowing hair and a marred neck that wove into view as she spun to face the scream. She smiled through the distance at Malina, who up until that point hadn''t questioned how she''d seen where her voice went instead of heard it, nor why the mysterious (but friendly!) blue lady had made an appearance inside the intimate space of what Malina now understood was her own dream. The image of the blonde woman faded, and Malina was back to her retreat through the embers.


    The knowledge that this was a dream banished some of the fear, but not all of it. Malina didn''t know how to control what was happening or wake herself up, and the panic was too visceral for a single image to vanquish.


    Seeming to sense her role in this was over, the blue lady smiled wide¡ªher teeth were sharper than a human''s but white and well cared for, which Malina didn''t know how she felt about¡ªand wished Malina good luck, then vanished as if she''d never been there. Somehow, her exit left the impression of a dragonfly. Dream nonsense.


    Everything twisted. The embers died. Dream-knowledge informed Malina that knowing this was a dream didn''t make it a safer place. It made it more dangerous. More real. The chaser raced at her faster, as if it were now on a time crunch, as if its previous pursuit had been a stroll for leisure. Malina didn''t want to know what it might do if it caught her, so she kept on running. Exhaustedly.


    It was going to catch her it was catching her it was right there reaching for her shoulder she could feel its hollow presence brush her spine¡ª


    The blonde woman ran beside her in the same manner the blue lady had before. Abruptly there. This close, shoulder to shoulder and with the exaggerated focus of the mind in a dream, Malina got a better look at her. She was tall and carried a sword at her hip in a straight, simple sheath. The hilt of the sword seemed to Malina as if it were the wrist attached to a dragon''s claw. Though, with dreams being what they were, who knew where that imagery came from? The hilt appeared otherwise ordinary. The woman''s hair was absurdly long, flowing out behind her, and not so much blonde now as wispy in the way it caught the ever-changing light of the dreamscape. Unlike the blue lady, this woman matched Malina''s temporal pace with graceful strides. Her being there blocked the chaser.


    Malina didn''t know if that effect would be temporary. Residually afraid, she sprinted to widen the distance between them and the chaser. The woman kept up and never seemed to tire.


    Past the dead embers, the dream had become another chasm. It was darker now, and the bleeding shadows wrapped around the woman''s throat in an ephemeral lattice pattern, as if her flesh were being eaten away in a ring. It gave the illusion¡ªor maybe not an illusion at all¡ªthat her head was being separated from her body one strip of muscle at a time. The woman''s eyes were a complete, mirrored silver. She had no whites and barely the impression of a pupil. It was like staring into a pool, a silvery alien pool with a single dot of dark life there in the depths, lying in wait and unreadable. The paleness of her skin and hair made the dark of her neck and the shimmer of her eyes more pronounced.


    "Greetings." The woman''s soft voice echoed through the dream as Malina''s scream had done before. "I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares. Where is your nightmare?"


    "Behind us!"


    "Ah." Akki glanced back, the movement so fluid it was impossible to look anywhere else. "Being chased. A common nightmare. Is it recurrent?"


    Fatigue washed over Malina. Dizzy, she dropped to all fours, chest pinching with every gasp. She was back where the dream started. A patch of fingers wrapped tenderly around her joints, worming their way across her flesh. She and Akki had run in a circle. What if the whole dream was a circle? What if there was no way out?


    We''re in my dream, right? No matter where you are, you can''t escape yourself.


    Akki faced the chaser. Angry red light washed past her and cast Malina in throes of retreating shadow. Under the flickering light, the fingers took on a sickly pinkish hue, the unready, yellowy color of skin that a scab reveals when it''s picked too early.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    There was a need, an urgency to get back up and run, but no energy to perform it.


    "May I ask a personal question?" asked Akki pleasantly. She stood in a warrior''s stance between Malina and the nightmare and drew her sword.


    The blade was black. As it slipped from its sheath, eagerness rippled out from the edge, a craving for the elegant motion of slashes through threats. It didn''t so much want to protect its wielder as murder whatever malignance crossed her path. Malina didn''t know how she knew this, but she knew it in her core, the same way she knew the sky was blue or that stars were bright. It wasn''t dream-knowledge because it wasn''t the kind of knowledge that came from one singular person. I was right. It is a dragon''s claw. From an actual dragon! "Q-question?"


    "My question is this." Akki''s hair flowed to the side to reveal a knot of flesh keeping her head attached to the rest of her. A literal knot. With a grotesque, rotten bow. "In the waking world, do you run from or toward?"


    "From or toward what?"


    "This nightmare arises when a person''s focus is split between past and future."


    The nightmare, unable to get around Akki, took form. Malina willed herself to see it for what it was. Composed of malice and passion and red desperation, the physical traits of its form were indecipherable. Maybe it didn''t have physical traits. The lack of body did nothing to alleviate Malina''s disquiet of it. The cluster of fingers clamped tighter on her, catapulting her heart into triple time. Dreams aren''t physical. Are they?


    "What happens in the dreamscape does affect one physically," said Akki as if Malina''s thoughts had been verbal. "But you''re the dreamer. You have power here, just as you have power in the waking world. What scares you about being chased?"


    "Everything! Everyone''s afraid of being chased."


    "Untrue." Akki smirked and flicked her wrist. When her blade slashed into the formless form, glee ricocheted off the edge where the nightmare met its slice. "Some enjoy the thrill."


    The nightmare shrieked, growing a beak and talons, and its transformation made clear the origins of the red, wavering light. This nightmare was a phoenix, born of contempt that burned inside its hollow bones and bitterness that set aflame its feathers.


    Akki pointed the blade''s tip at the nightmare, never looking down on Malina, which meant never looking behind herself.


    "If only," screamed the nightmare, its voice a deafening shrill, the sound of a tortured beast forever recycling itself into a new-old orbit of regrets, as it lashed with beak and talon and fiery wing. "If only I wasn''t there!"


    Akki parried every attack with ease, be it from talon, beak, or flame. Either she couldn''t or wouldn''t silence the screams.


    "If only my life started better!"


    Akki stood against it, blocking. She gave no ground. Her sword ate up every attack meant for Malina, even the heat. All but the words themselves.


    "If only I''d been somewhere else," gibbered Malina, harmonizing with the nightmare. As the fingers wriggled, so did hers. Her lips moved by themselves, forming words with no thought but fearful compulsion. "If only I weren''t me."


    "If only I weren''t!"


    "No matter where you are," whispered Malina. "You can''t escape who you are." These sentiments, now emerging from herself, tore into the dreamscape. Shattered glass breaks in the blackness pierced into painful relief in impossible spaces around her, some midair, some overlapping. More fingers curled out from each crevice. "Why didn''t I have better circumstances? Why''d I get caught in such awful situations? It''s not fair! Unless I''m the one who''s broken. I was there for every gander, every bad turn. Every touch. Each locker. Those mistakes could''ve only been mine. Right?"


    "You''re right," said Akki. "But for the wrong reason."


    Alongside the nightmare''s shrieks, Malina''s monologue dissipated. She realized that at some point her own voice had replaced the nightmare''s. When both stopped, the fingers squirmed in silence, but the nightmare kept up its onslaught¡ªthough eerily soundless now¡ªand Akki kept up her relentless defense, asking nothing in return.


    Her blade sundered feather after feather, but they always rekindled after their demise.


    Until they couldn''t anymore.


    Then the entire dreamscape halted, all except Akki, who finally turned to look at Malina with an expectance in her composure that both unnerved and annoyed. The fingers peeled more splinters into the edges of their cracks.


    "The blue lady told me you''d help," said Malina.


    "Did she?" Akki''s expression warmed.


    Malina became offended in a way that felt righteous, and her voice went shrill. "But you''re no help at all."


    Akki glanced at the suspended nightmare and sheathed her sword. "Am I not?"


    "No. You''re judging."


    "Would you prefer I left?"


    Malina dug her nails into her scalp.


    "It''s your choice. The choice is always the dreamer''s. You have the most power here."


    "You heard my unfiltered thoughts," said Malina. "I''m not the kind of person who has any power. Not even over myself."


    "Everyone has power over themselves."


    "Then how come no matter how far I run I end up in the same sort of place?"


    "If I may?" Akki bent forward in a tiny but formal bow. "Perhaps because you never sought a different place. Rumination is its own sort of unyielding pursuit. Nightmares tend to reflect their dreamers."


    Malina gulped, wrangled free of the fingers and studied the monstrosity that was her nightmare. The more she looked, the more she saw. Feathers that smoldered on matchstick, translucent bones. The phoenix was thinner than on first impression. Most of its form had been its fire. Its beak shined with scars from boring into resistant memory. Its deep-set eyes weren''t hollow so much as blinded by willful distraction. This reflects me? Understanding this beast was addictively magnetic.


    "I see resilience." Akki cast her gaze over the bundles of fingers. Then, as if appreciating the finer details of Malina''s dreamscape, Akki twirled in a slow circle. She even glossed her hand across an empty, midair crack. "If you forget what lies behind, what might lie ahead?"


    "I don''t know."


    Malina awoke sweaty and panting, her sheets ripped halfway off her bed in a tangle that bound her ankles, and a single thought reverberated through her mind.


    Run not from, but toward.

 Falling

    Ulrich fell into the dream and kept falling. The wind resistance did nothing to slow his descent, and he reached out in every direction, arms stretched wide and whirling, hoping to find something¡ªanything¡ªto grab onto. Nothing but rushing air. He fell through a dark vacuum into nighttime sky and squinted best he could past the wind. As if his stomach weren''t already in his throat, he found himself so high up that a cityscape stood far below him, its buildings rising to meet him way too fast for comfort. The noise of the plummet sloshed whorls in his ears, thrumming his body with flight or fight. But you can''t fight when you''ve got no grab and no ground, and it wasn''t like he had wings. His thoughts spiraled out of control, and the only thing left to fall back on was primal. Reflex.


    He screamed.


    Immediately, she was there falling beside him, a woman with ridiculously long blonde hair, something gross about her neck, and eyes all horror flick silver. She was dressed for good movement in a top that left her arms bare. Snug, flexible fabric covered the rest of her pearly skin, and she wore boots Ulrich''s sister would''ve described as sensible. In a straight scabbard at her hip sat a sword. She fell in a relaxed manner, not a trace of fear on her, which made Ulrich feel like a wuss.


    "How familiar," said the woman with a fondness that did not at all match their situation. She spread her arms and inhaled the rushing air. "Falling can be freeing, you know."


    "Freeing and then you die!" screamed Ulrich.


    "I am Akki," said the woman, either not hearing or choosing to ignore his outburst. "Slayer of Nightmares." Akki twisted into an outdated, formal bow at Ulrich as they continued to drop to their doom. "It seems obvious where your nightmare is. Are you afraid of heights in the waking world?"


    "The fuck are you talking about, lady?!"


    "Akki."


    They dropped past the tallest skyscraper''s roof, and Ulrich let out a girly squeal he never would''ve made if he had a parachute. His mind raced with thoughts of cement, sidewalk, ground! I''m gonna hit bottom and splatter my guts all over the pavement, and the noise will be terrible. What am I thinking, ''the noise will be terrible''? That''ll be the end of me!


    "Personal question," said Akki. "If I may."


    "WHAT."


    "In the waking world," she continued thoughtfully. "Have you found yourself in love?"


    "The fuck is the waking world?"


    Akki blinked. She did another absurdly respectful bow. "Apologies. I was under the impression you were lucid." She reached for him. "Allow me."


    Ulrich flinched. He was somehow more afraid of her than of hitting literal rock bottom.


    "I won''t hurt you," said Akki. "My job is to aid the dreamer."


    It wasn''t like Ulrich could dodge her. Akki''s hand found his shoulder, and abruptly he realized this was all a dream. Even if he did fall to his death here in the dream world, all that would mean would be bursting awake in the real world¡ªOh. Waking world, real world. Got it.


    "Better?" asked Akki.


    Ulrich self-inventoried and noticed that no. No, he was not better. His heart remained thunderous, his head wouldn''t stop thumping with blood pressure, and it still felt like his stomach was trying to squiggle out his ears. Plus, knowing a dream is a dream isn''t the same as controlling that dream. I don''t have the skillset for this. But he had to do something. Trying to grab stuff on the way down¡ªsidings of buildings were all that were there¡ªto slow his fall had to be better than just falling. He flailed, reaching far for the skyscrapers, but the walls were mere inches beyond his fingertips. "Augh! So close."


    Close doesn''t cut it.


    Akki hummed thoughtfully.


    "Lady¡ª"


    "Akki."


    "Akki, whatever!"


    "Slayer of Nightmares."


    "You say you slay nightmares? How''re you supposed to slay one that''s nothing but falling? Or what? Can you fly?"


    "Anyone can fly in a dream if the mood is right."


    "Does it look like the mood is right?!" Ulrich''s mind was in the gutter, but he didn''t care because of the whole falling to his death thing. Dream or not, he felt like his body was just his heart, a bullet with no casing in a downward careen. Then again, if this were the real world, wouldn''t they have hit bottom by now? Felt like buildings were growing taller to make the descent longer. The thought struck Ulrich that his fear was of the fall itself, not the impact afterward. Which made zero sense. "You wanna elaborate?"


    "Of course." Akki crooked a finger under her chin, and Ulrich figured out exactly what the problem with her neck was. The skin there rotted in a choker-shaped ring that looked like it wrapped all the way around. Which was shudder worthy and made him wonder if he should take her advice on anything, no matter who she said she was or what her supposed credentials were. "To fly, one must not fear the fall."


    "Oh great," snapped Ulrich. "Problem solved."


    "I could carry you."


    "You?" Now that he''d seen the rot, he couldn''t take his eyes off her neck. Also, she was female. You didn''t go around making girls shoulder your weight. "Carry me? No thanks."


    "It''s not contagious." Akki put her hand over the rotted part of her neck. "I can keep it covered."


    Well, now he felt like a jerk. Great job, asshole. Way to fuck up a conversation.


    Her spooky eyes withdrew in... shame? Might''ve been anger. The wind resistance vanished. They accelerated, street zooming up superfast, and Ulrich¡ªfeeling vulnerable about his squishy, palpitating self¡ªthrew both arms up over his face, screaming with vigorous alarm.


    The impact never came. The concrete went porous, passing through and around them with a texture like soapy grit, and then they were back in the empty vacuum where the dream had begun. Forever they fell, through the abyss past the atmosphere into the sky beyond the ground and back to where it all started until it looped over again. That settled that. This nightmare was never-ending.


    Ulrich sucked in breath until he was convinced he''d become nothing but a pocket of spirit¡ªno body, no brain, not even a heart anymore, just a storm of terror¡ªand his mind whirred with the bizarre, conflicting sensation of being both too much at once but also not enough there. The prolonged fear unraveled his nerves and while it did he was torturously present. In this surreal awareness, a thought congeals in electric currents and zips through the dark. Gone now, but why was there wind resistance before? And: How do I get off this ride?


    Then both together, overlapping:


    You die in nightmares you wake up.


    Can''t die with nowhere to splatter.


    "I have some influence over the dreamscape." Akki fell at the same rate as Ulrich in the continuum, not nearly as unhinged as his brainwave surreality. Her sword shook in its scabbard, and she gripped the hilt as if to keep it from hurtling out. "The wind resistance was partially from me. There are three ways out of a nightmare. One is to return to the waking world, which is a temporary solution. And contrary to what you might''ve heard, doesn''t require death in the dreamscape. Another is to slay the nightmare, which means you must overcome its psychological metaphors."


    "Dreams are metaphors?"


    "Of course." Akki paused, seeming to reconsider. "In your case, yes."Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    "What''s the third way?"


    "Not worth it."


    "I''ll bite." Ulrich would''ve crossed his arms if he had any anymore.


    "You''ll... bite?"


    "Means quit being cryptic."


    Akki took one deep breath. "The nightmare slays you."


    "As if it hasn''t already."


    "Although you might not feel this is true," said Akki. "Your spirit remains intact. Which means you have the most power."


    "Power over what? We''re just falling! And it feels like I''m not all here. What ever happened to that flying thing?"


    "We are flying, in a sense."


    "Get out."


    "You want me to leave?"


    "No." Ulrich''s frustration buzzed around them. "I want you to teach me how to fly outta here. Back to the waking world or whatever."


    "It seems I''ve been unclear. When I said we are flying, in a sense, I meant once you embrace the fall you control the flight. It isn''t the way out of the dreamscape. It''s a means of controlling what''s here."


    Ulrich''s first instinct was to argue, but this time as they slammed past the ground the grit clung to him, sliding and stretching. It molded with his consciousness in a wiry phantom structure, a net of dirty marrow approximated with silly string. Each cycle of descent added layer upon layer until he was again within a body¡ªa nice, destructible physical presence that made the landing once again scarier than the fall. Maybe I''d be outta this nightmare if I stopped flip-flopping what''s worse.


    "Essentially," said Akki.


    "How''re you hearing my thoughts?" He thought he hadn''t said that last part aloud. "You rummaging around in my mind or what?"


    "We both are."


    "Huh?"


    "A dreamscape is a creation of the dreamer''s mind. Your consciousness is flexible enough to reside within a larger part of its own self. I''m a visitor. I hear what''s here."


    The nightmarish cycle brought with it another round of skyscrapers and moon-shone windows. Street would soon rise to meet them. With how much body he''d recollected, Ulrich was sure the next impact would hurt. He didn''t know how Akki would fare, and as the concrete graffitied itself with anticipation he fought the urge to curl up. To brace. If they hit street level, they''d hit hard. It reminded him of that tense feeling during a test or maybe the fluttery anxiety of breaking the ice with a cute girl. But on a massive scale. Wait. If this was a metaphor from his own mind...


    "No wonder," said Ulrich.


    "No wonder?" Akki took a breath. The wind resistance returned. On an updraft they floated.


    "I''m always worried about fuckups."


    Akki smiled in a soft way that made it appear she was appraising him with sincere satisfaction.


    "Always afraid of bottoming out," continued Ulrich, revitalized.


    Akki gripped her sword with both hands, her rotting neck on full display as she readied to draw. The street below them warped.


    "But sometimes," said Ulrich as the warp took shape. "You gotta hit rock bottom to grow."


    That concrete grit stretched apart, and its parts wove into a mouth that widened hungrily, a creature with pointy teeth and that vacuum abyss for its throat. Ulrich found himself chock full of adrenaline, tittering. This time would be different. This time the impact mattered. The abyss beyond it looked different. Vaster. If I get past those sewer teeth this time around, bet I can fly outta here.


    "Yes." Akki grinned and unsheathed her sword, which had a black blade and gave off a hunger greater than the giant maw of perceived failure before them. "Now I''ll ask. Shall I slay your nightmare?"


    "If we get to fly afterward? Fuck yeah!"


    The mouth yawned despair, but Akki faced it with what could only be aggressive eagerness, a fighter who loves the fists. Ulrich got the sense she''d slayed her share of nightmares. Her expression hardened into severe, confident concentration, and he wondered how many times she''d done this, how many nightmares she''s slain. In the elongated time between descent and impending strike, he wondered if any other dreamscapes were like his. Before, she called my nightmare familiar. Was it one of hers?


    Akki plunged faster, the tip of her sword pointed in tight form at the most protruding gritty tooth. Gusts slowed Ulrich''s drop while hers hastened. Like maybe she''d flapped invisible wings and tucked them to her sides to dip quicker, causing Ulrich to get caught in the backdraft.


    She crushed the first tooth with a thrust and cut through its neighbors with a fluid, connective slash. Her blade tore through the animosity of those closing lips of concrete as if they were nothing but fleeting remarks. No bite, all bark. Her sword might''ve been smaller than the teeth were, but it had a lot more power. As she continued her precision maneuvers, losing herself to the rhythm and smiling through the entire sequence, the air currents hefting Ulrich changed directions. After that, no way he could deny she had wings. If he squinted, he could see them. Silvery glimmers flashing around her body in wisps of spirit, fleshed like a bat''s, long enough to span her four times lengthwise.


    Awesome or not, she was still female. It wasn''t right to let her do all the work. Ulrich tucked in his limbs for aerodynamics'' sake and hollered. "Akki! Let me fall through! Get rid of the wind!"


    Akki stabbed into the nightmare''s pothole gums and sank into an upside-down crouch between the broken teeth, where she halted her movements. The air currents diminished along with her shimmery wings, both gone from Ulrich''s awareness.


    He whooped and cascaded to terminal velocity.


    The cracked mouth began closing.


    No way to get there quicker.


    Gummy, gooey streams of grit shot up to surround Akki.


    Shit! Ulrich reached for her even though it was useless. Too far a gap.


    As she launched from her upside-down perch, Akki smirked and cut the streams before they could trap her in their tangles. The sword devoured each wormy tendril. She flipped around to face Ulrich and whipped into a pose that arched her back, a full spread complete with a deep breath that filled out her chest. The ground kept closing. To accept the freefall was one thing, but he couldn''t bear to see Akki digested by his own nightmare. Not after that display of skill, and especially not after she''d helped him. On reflex, his eyes rammed shut.


    A barrage of wind gushed against him from behind, strong and way faster than the freefall. It shoved him through the maw. He felt the exact moment he passed between its chipped teeth because he could swear his bones shivered. By the time his eyes reopened, he''d emerged into sky. Endless, gorgeous sky. Cloudless, it shone in all colors of sunrise. Akki was beside him, unhurt, not an ounce of sweat on her.


    The relief was unbearable. He released it in a fit of crazed laughter.


    Akki sheathed her blade. But they still weren''t flying.


    "I take it it''s not over?" asked Ulrich, wondering why after all that trouble they were back where they started. Somewhere distant, there rumbled a bellow, a grinding crunch of relinquished pain, and it seemed to come from both above them and below.


    "Never," said Akki. "Growth is never over."


    Huh. If he could fall through a nightmare that bad and come out the other side intact, maybe even better than before, then he could survive any metaphor his brain threw at him.


    He embraced the fall. He surrendered.


    There was a pivot of air. Ulrich flew.


    Akki soared with him, acrobatic and graceful, her wings flickering into view with each flap, until the obvious occurred to Ulrich. This time they''d skipped the abyss.


    New perspective. Fuckups as opportunities. He''d try it on for size.


    Ulrich slipped from the dreamscape into his waking world, and he was grinning like an idiot, ready to run bullheaded at every endeavor he found intimidating. Because risking failure was worth it. Because the risk is where you learn.

 Lost

    Before they can reach a dreamer, a vitalian must cross their own nightmare. During the crossing, they must summon every iota of nerve to persevere. They must steel themselves to their fear because, unlike a dreamer¡¯s, a vitalian¡¯s nightmare can¡¯t be slain. An unavoidable test of resolve, the crossing is also steeped in the traditions of Vitalia. Veteran slayers teach apprentices that the crossing is a reminder both of the slayer''s purpose in the dreamscape and of the damage a dreamer will face should the slayer fail. Efficiency is paramount. To falter is to prolong a dreamer¡¯s torment.


    Akki¡¯s nightmare changed over the years. When she was a child, the dream was a race to keep up with her peers, but in it she¡¯d lag, her spiritual tether a worsening ache, unable to overcome the inherited genetic deformity that was disintegrating her astral self. When she reached early adolescence, after her father died and when the communal shunning became relentless, her nightmare morphed into a weighted heart of loneliness. Once she met that with fortitude, it developed into being about failure. She went through all those painful experiences and never knew her deepest horror until she met Milli, the girl who controls the dragonflies.


    Now the nightmare begins with a giggle. A girlish one that sounds playful, innocent.


    Caution swells in Akki, throbbing her tattered spiritual tether in a way that puts tension at the top of her throat. In the waking world where her physical body rests, the choker must be tightening. A necessary annoyance in the physical realm, but it impedes her movement in the dreamscape. The nightmare plants itself in that caution and spreads its roots. She can feel them worming out from the seed of her spirit, reaching for sustenance in her own ripples of consciousness. She opens her eyes and finds the usual flora. A swamp without sky, trees stinking of mildew. As she wades through the murky water, algae and moss thicken against her strides.


    The giggling returns louder, twinkling from every direction as if circling the swamp. Two silver dragonflies flit above the water, weave around dangling tree limbs and bob into her path. The giggles are coming from them. Thanks to her vitalian sight, she sees each insect has an intact spiritual tether, shimmery and thin as spider silk, which leads up and away into the canopy. She knows what¡¯s on the other end of those tethers, knows Milli won¡¯t give her much time. Organic slime at the swamp bed mires Akki¡¯s footing.


    Her palm finds the hilt of her sword. She¡¯s stuck where she is, breathing slowly to quell the panic, and it won¡¯t be long until the true threat appears. The water is up to her thighs. The ends of her hair float on the stagnant surface, blonde strands turning greenish in saturation.


    ¡°Slowpoke,¡± says one dragonfly in the voice of a little girl. Milli¡¯s voice.


    ¡°Slowpoke,¡± echoes the other. They both enter another giggle fit.


    Ignoring the taunts, Akki draws her sword. She¡¯s tall but nonetheless must bend her elbow to keep the tip dry. Anticipating what¡¯s to come, she braces herself.


    From behind, Milli¡¯s girlish voice shrills anew into Akki¡¯s right ear. ¡°SLOWPOKE!¡±


    Akki stifles her jolt but can¡¯t keep the wince off her face. Ears ringing, the tension travels down from her throat and coils itself around the rest of her. She takes a breath into her nose and out again. When the alarm recedes, its replacement is impatience. There are dreamers waiting, dreamers who need her. She can hear them crying out across the dreamscape, screams and screeches and muted sobs she feels in her chest as if she¡¯s the one making them. In this moment, she wishes¡ªnever vocalizes but yearns it deep in her core¡ªwishes she could slay her own nightmare. But here the fight is futile. Besides, it isn¡¯t Milli or the dragonflies she fears, and it isn¡¯t fear that grips her now.


    It¡¯s fury.


    Akki takes that fury, channels it into her blade and rends the reeds, clearing a way. The sword delights itself with each swing and urges her to turn around, to sink its black claw into the one who dares provoke them. She pivots her feet, unsticking her boots, and instead continues onward, parting the less obstructive flora and slicing the stubborn remainder. She carves a trail past the dragonflies.


    The giggling lapses into a contemptuous silence.


    Akki marches, the strain increasing with every step. On the far side of her nightmare¡¯s willowy vegetation is a soggy, oxidized bank. Beyond that gleams the luminous gossamer nexus where dreamers¡¯ tethers knot and their voices collide in cacophonies of fright.


    ¡°You really think you can just walk away?¡± asks Milli.


    Akki doesn¡¯t turn back.


    ¡°Really think it¡¯ll be that easy?¡± asks one dragonfly. They¡¯ve followed Akki and hover around her head, twitching in tandem this way and that.


    ¡°After everything?¡± asks the other.


    ¡°Or maybe you¡¯re just hoping to ignore the implication,¡± says Milli snidely. ¡°It is your nightmare, after all.¡±


    Akki hesitates, frustrated the words have sunk teeth into her, agitated with the pain of thinking what she might become. She¡¯s never known how far ahead for her that future lies in wait, but she witnessed its ruthlessness when the deformity unraveled her father¡¯s tether. She watched him become a nightmare, witnessed the King of Vitalia reduced to a subliminal beast soon slayed by his own heirloom. She doesn¡¯t know when the deformity will tear apart her own tether¡¯s final frays. All her life, that uncertainty has filled her with a mixture of fear and preemptive guilt. Even so, it never influenced her dreamscape until her father¡¯s death, and only after meeting Milli and finding friends did her nightmare¡¯s imagery become this complex.


    The more she matures, the more labyrinthine her dreamscape becomes. Already it¡¯s a challenge not to lose herself during the crossing. How long until even this is too much for me? How long did it take to untether my father?


    The atmosphere depresses with sickly moisture. Her lungs sink like humid stones. Mossy vines swoop down from the trees and blockade the nexus then the bank in a creaking of pained organic limbs. They crisscross over each other, layer after layer, and grow and envelop and grow. She understands what she¡¯s afraid of but doesn¡¯t know its name. There isn¡¯t a single word that encompasses the dread.


    The heirloom, her single inheritance, King Vitalia¡¯s dragon claw sword, resonates with ire. Her wrist clenches.


    Enough.


    What do nightmares know of dignity?


    She might not be able to permanently slay hers, but the fact it¡¯s impeding her this much makes catharsis viable.


    Akki turns to face Milli. As expected, Milli¡¯s representation in the nightmare floats dry above the water. It looks like her physical self. The same bare, dirty feet. The same billowing triple-tiered blue sundress covering the small-boned proportions of a child. Milli¡¯s green eyes spark with mischief. Her golden hair tussles with a breeze Akki can¡¯t touch but can see in astral wisps around her floating form. The dragonflies thread down their tethers to Milli and settle in the place they usually take in the waking world, wriggling opposite ends of her bangs out of her face.


    The trail Akki cut through the swamp has already regrown. In reaction to this growth, the water sloshes higher. It¡¯s as if they¡¯re in a basket woven so tightly as to be waterproof, the dreamscape contained within its wood-stitched hems. Fear might not hold its shape but anger does.


    Milli grins.


    Rage spurs Akki to action. She warps the terrain aside. All it takes is nerve and want. The water parts, a curtain split, and the snaggles at its bottom flatten. She sprints to Milli, finding footholds of friction in the slick. In the final step, she launches, flies.


    Milli vanishes.


    From the canopy, interim slash and vanish, dew descends.


    Akki¡¯s blade splits the droplet.


    A tickle in her hair alerts her to one dragonfly. She rounds on it, slicing upward. Eager is the claw, and Akki¡¯s form precise, but they miss. The sword dragon-screams disapproval, but combat is no time to lapse their grace. They must rely on instinct, move as one. Reacting is too slow. They must predict. Akki locks her sight on the dragonfly¡¯s tether.


    It twists.


    This is her dreamscape. No matter what form it takes, she¡¯ll know its layout. The only requirement is attention. It¡¯s easy to foresee the logical conclusion of that tether¡¯s loop. Back to basics. She sinks into stance, centering her gravity with one knee bent and the other extended, sword held tucked onehanded. Her free hand tenses into the gesture of a claw. She is the embodiment of tradition.


    Milli¡¯s giggling resounds from three directions. The trees loom and groan and growl. A thin layer of water slides through the exposed root system down into the swamp basin and resettles. The rest of the moisture remains suspended, pressed up along braided trunks.


    The tethers swivel.


    Akki times the movement and springs into an upward pierce. So fast it could be an extension of the same strike, she alters her stance, arches her back and whirls the blade in a complete arc. In the nanosecond her head is leaned back, the choker bites into her neck. She closes her eyes against the pain and finishes the move blind.


    The slash connects, a smooth slice that sings through the blade, and Akki¡¯s tight control of her breathing lapses into the tiniest of sighs, sprung from satisfaction. She allows herself momentary celebration. Nothing this dragon claw tears remains long in any dreamscape. Solace flavors the victory.


    In a reversal of rain, water lifts off the basin. Its pressure is like a waterfall. Even with closed eyes, it¡¯s impossible to ignore the sense of rising. It swoops the ends of her hair upward. The pain from the choker recedes, only just.


    She stands taller and opens her eyes, which sharply widen.


    It¡¯s not Milli or a dragonfly the blade struck. It¡¯s Kits, an ally turned friend turned lover, another of Milli¡¯s wishers¡ªas she and her dragonflies would say¡ªand as Akki trembles with acute regret, Kits stares down at the gash in her chest. Kits¡¯ blood runs red, a contrast to the blue of her skin. The crimson color matches her irises, dims the purple of her hair and emphasizes her worsening pallor. The sight on its own is grotesque, made worse by being Akki¡¯s fault.


    ¡°Ow,¡± says Kits. She does that nervous laugh of hers and spurts more blood. ¡°Ahaha, um. Did I do something wrong?¡± In her expression, there¡¯s hurt of all kinds and blame Akki knows Kits is directing at herself instead of the one who harmed her.


    Channel the blame where it belongs, Kits. At me.


    Kits falls to her knees, clutching the wound. Her eyes are shut.


    I¡¯ve become a nightmare.


    Akki¡¯s heart feels like it¡¯s grown needles, squeezing sharper with every pulse.


    This, this is fear. Milli and her dragonflies could never compare to this.


    Thoughts echo, and the suspended water garbles. Clumps of moisture churn midair.


    Was father frightened? When mother cut his tether, was he aware enough to know? Was he already gone, or did she forsake him? She told me he was gone.


    Time lulls and with it the water.


    What if she lied?


    Rain. Torrents turn the ground sodden. As the basin refills, Kits sinks to her haunches, head dipped low. Mud rises, suctioning with the greed of a sinkhole.


    I¡¯m not gone. Whose duty is it to slay me? I don¡¯t want to be slain. I want to be with Kits.


    How can I think that when I¡¯m the one who hurt her?


    But I do want it. I do want to be with her.


    Akki¡¯s neck itches.


    Where¡¯s my choker? I need my choker. I can¡¯t feel my tether. Has it snapped? Have I?


    Kits, I¡¯m sorry.


    I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m¡ª


    ¡°Is this a wise use of your time?¡± asks Kits. It¡¯s a phrasing she wouldn¡¯t use, enunciated in a way that isn¡¯t hers.


    The giggles return.


    ¡°Ignore them.¡± Kits stands, still oozing blood, and fixes Akki with a stare reminiscent of a mirror. ¡°Focus on your duty.¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°You are?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°To yourself or to the dreamers?¡±


    ¡°At the moment,¡± says Akki. ¡°I am a dreamer.¡±


    ¡°You are vitalian,¡± says Kits. ¡°To be distracted by your own nightmare is disgrace. It costs time. Remember your responsibility.¡± She stands there, dignified, and bleeds. Expectantly.


    The glimmer of the gossamer nexus peeks through cracks that suddenly form in the swampland¡¯s flora.


    Akki realizes Kits¡¯ inflection is her own. Ah. A scolding from myself.


    ¡°Yes,¡± answers Kits, who is in truth Akki¡ªa higher version, a deeper version, the one that¡¯s ingrained. ¡°For a reason.¡±


    Tethers in the dreamers¡¯ nexus become beacons of urgency. The rain lessens to slippery mist. Kits lifts her chin and points at the cracks, the widening gaps in the bark, the mud, the water. The swamp is parting. The end of Akki¡¯s dream surges into view. The mineral stink of the bank opens toward them in a swell of finality.


    Akki nods. She¡¯s remembered her purpose, and her sword shrieks in approval. She sprints for the nexus, making her footfalls light over the bed with willpower, bending the dreamscape to her bidding, propelling herself onward with vigor.


    No more rain.


    Now the nightmare ends with a giggle. A girlish one that sounds playful, innocent.


    The scenario repeats. With one difference.


    This time, Akki concentrates only on the nexus. She crosses her own nightmare with minimal hindrance, ignoring Milli, swatting past the dragonflies, carving deliberately through everything else, even¡ªthough it pains her so much she might weep¡ªthe image of Kits. Past the reeds and roots and water, beyond the mucky bank, Akki reaches the end of her dreamscape and gasps. Her throat and neck are so sore she can feel them throbbing out of sync with each other, and her fatigue goes so far it sinks into her spirit thanks to the effort put forth in the crossing. But she did cross! She stretches into the nexus, gropes and grasps those shimmery threads until a tether magnetizes to her touch.


    It¡¯s strange this time she doesn¡¯t hear a scream.


    The tether takes hold and tightens, wrapping her fingers then wrist then arm. It slithers up the rest of her body and warps her form into intangibility, a welcome sensation, familiar to Akki whenever she answers a call. The tether sends her formless self at the speed of thought into the dreamer¡¯s nightmare. The transit is flight and freedom and wingbeat heart beats, the tether-light so bright and wondrously blinding, a rush of invigoration that rekindles her, and then Akki is standing not in her own dreamscape but another¡¯s.


    The dreamer is a little girl wearing overalls, and her age and appearance resemble Milli¡¯s. She¡¯s turned away so Akki can¡¯t see her face, and the dreamscape itself is a flower field. Even after overcoming the ordeal of the crossing, Akki falters. She steps over the edge of the nightmare with caution instead of the bold confidence of noble rescuer she usually adopts. In a magnetic pull, the same pull that brought Akki¡¯s hand to the little girl¡¯s tether in the first place, the air pressurizes. It isn¡¯t the kind of sensory input normally exuded by a nightmare. It¡¯s too constant, too neutral. As the density of the atmosphere weighs against Akki from all directions, the pull culminates, resonates with her sword and spirit. The vibration of the magnetism sings, a low tone within and throughout, like the heavy hum heard after a great bell has rung.


    It¡¯s the resonance that reminds her. Akki has felt this before. It happens when a dreamer who isn¡¯t vitalian has potential in dreamwalking.


    A girl like Milli who might already have the ability to influence others¡¯ dreamscapes. Akki¡¯s chest tightens in trepidation, and the throbbing soreness in her tether is intimate. It¡¯s an acute, breathless vulnerability that always comes when she meets a being who can do more than agitate the psyche of a dreamer. To approach this little girl in a flower field of her own creation might even be a step of danger above a recurrent, which is a nightmare as relentless on the dreamer every sleep cycle (and subsequently on their Slayer) as its namesake. Or worse, a terror, the kind that mars its dreamer so terribly they awake screaming, half their mind in the waking world and the remainder of their spirit anchored in the nightmare. A dreamwalker could create any number of these, or find them in another¡¯s dream without much effort. Plus, often a source of more immanency, dreamwalkers sometimes don¡¯t know the scope of their own power, especially if it buds young.


    But sometimes they do, and sometimes they enjoy channeling it in ways negligent of morality.


    In the time before Akki knew her true nature, Milli seemed as innocent as this little girl¡¯s pleasant dreamscape.


    The little girl bends down to sniff a flower.


    How ruthless is she? How horrifying might this dreamer be?


    The sword has a different perspective.


    Let¡¯s test her mettle.


    So be it.


    Besides, as intimidated as Akki might be, she did learn from her crossing. Her duty remains to the dreamer. She steels herself and approaches the little girl.


    The sky isn¡¯t sky. It¡¯s a roof, oversized wooden boards sloped upward into infinity. No other surroundings but the expanse of space, plenty of room to maneuver if conflict arises. Nothing frames the carpet of flowers. They bloom all the way to the dreamscape¡¯s dark edges. If there is a nightmare here, either it has yet to manifest or is something less concrete than a literal monster.


    Akki wonders what scares this little girl, because she doesn¡¯t seem frightened at all, crouched inside the flowerbeds, humming. Blooms and stems obscure her overalls in washes of wild color and green. Three strides from the dreamer, Akki softly clears her throat. The soreness there swells.


    The magnetism switches polarities, now push rather than pull, and Akki clenches every muscle in her body to remain standing. The sword¡¯s resonance becomes embittered. Even inside the sheath, Akki can feel its sharpness carve at the dreamscape¡¯s atmosphere and warp it with resolve as the claw marks its territory against the magnetic influence. It never did like its aura being threatened.


    When the little girl turns, it¡¯s dark eyes¡ªnot green¡ªthat meet Akki¡¯s.


    The polarity reverses back, once again a pull.


    Lessons from the crossing still fresh, Akki kneels to meet the little girl at eye level and smiles. She also, however, stays out of immediate reach.


    The magnetism halts.


    ¡°Hello, little one.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lost,¡± says the little girl, a direct echo of the very first phrase Milli told Akki in the waking world.


    Akki stiffens and asks the same thing she asked back then. ¡°Do you know where you need to be?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe that¡¯s a place to start.¡±


    ¡°Um.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Akki contorts her face into a hopefully less discomfited expression, tilting her head as she¡¯s seen Kits do from time to time. It always seems to endear Kits to whomever she¡¯s speaking.


    The little girl hesitates, staring at Akki¡¯s neck.


    Akki makes no attempt to cover the rotted flesh because there¡¯s nothing to be done. A vitalian¡¯s soul in astral form appears as it is, unfiltered. She can¡¯t hide her deformity no matter how badly she might want to. Regardless of wishes.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your, um, um.¡±


    ¡°Nothing that can hurt you. My name is Akki.¡±The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Rosetta.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Rosetta.¡±


    ¡°Rosie for short.¡±


    ¡°Rosie.¡±


    ¡°How come you¡¯re here? You¡¯re not someone I know when I¡¯m awake.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re aware this isn¡¯t the waking world?¡± Akki rescinds the idea of Rosie being a current threat but knows she might become one in the future. Rosie¡¯s talent must be assessed. The more capable a dreamwalker, the more dangerous it is for them to encounter a nightmare, as a matter of scope. If a soul is damaged in the dreamscape, those wounds manifest in the waking world. The more grievous the blights on the dreamer¡¯s astral self, the more physical power a nightmare has. Over a dreamer¡¯s body or mind, over a place of slumber, over those in proximity while the dreamer dreams. The more imagination the dreamer has, the more territory the nightmare can claim. If a nightmare were to slay even an ordinary dreamer, that dreamer would become the embodiment of that nightmare in the waking world. The entity would then go on to infect all that¡¯s nearby with its noxious aura. The dreamer¡¯s body might survive but the soul and its tether would darken, replaced by an inclination to warp every perspective toward detriment. That effect festers. It spreads. Because dreamwalkers can manipulate not only their own but also the dreamscapes of others, as well as access the nexus of tethers, their nightmares can affect the entire astral realm, meaning there¡¯s more than a single fixed location in the waking world at risk. To encounter a dreamwalker is a delicate situation in the best of times, direr if they happen to be under the influence of a nightmare. Or worse, manifesting a nightmare themselves. Akki must handle this interaction gingerly, so as not to provoke ill emotions that could draw a nightmare to¡ªor from¡ªRosie. ¡°You know this is your dream?¡±


    ¡°Duh! But when I¡¯m dreaming I never meet someone I don¡¯t know from when I¡¯m awake. Unless I do know you and forgot¡­ or maybe you don¡¯t look like your awake self. I dunno. Sleep sometimes makes memories fuzzy.¡± Rosie ponders, her small fist placed over her lips in a posture of contemplation. ¡°I¡¯ve never heard the awake world called the waking world before. How come you call it that? Is that what it¡¯s supposed to be called? The friends in my dreams never know they¡¯re asleep, but you¡¯re different.¡±


    The magnetic force returns, a slight subtle semblance of the power it held before.


    ¡°We call it the waking world because there¡¯s a difference between the awake world and the world that¡¯s awakening. A difference of astral state.¡±


    Rosie blinks. The force pauses. Both emit a sense of bewilderment.


    ¡°You know how it feels different when you¡¯ve just awoken as opposed to when you¡¯ve been awake for a while?¡±


    Rosie nods in wonderment, enraptured by Akki¡¯s words. The polarity swirls slowly, a balletic undulation from push to pull to push, smooth as waves on water.


    ¡°That¡¯s the difference between awake and waking.¡±


    ¡°Ooh.¡±


    The resonant force becomes rhythmic with thought patterns as Rosie¡¯s young mind sorts the information. To prevent luring a nightmare of confusion, Akki waits until after the magnetism settles on a wavelength of understanding before she answers Rosie¡¯s other question.


    ¡°As for me,¡± says Akki. ¡°You¡¯re correct that I¡¯m different. I was born in a place called Vitalia, a kingdom which resides in the astral realm between wake and sleep. My home was rooted in the dreamscape, so in a way you could say I¡¯m more from here than anywhere.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a dream person?¡±


    ¡°In essence. We call ourselves vitalians. Do you know what a vitalian does?¡±


    ¡°Nu-uh.¡±


    ¡°We slay nightmares.¡± Or become them.


    ¡°Ooh. Well, I¡¯m not having a nightmare. I¡¯m just here with the flowers.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re lovely.¡±


    ¡°I know! I grew them myself with my brain. See?¡± Rosie plucks a rose as it sprouts spontaneously under her fingertips. The magnetism folds in on itself inside the space where the rose grew, then implodes. ¡°This one¡¯s me.¡± The rose blooms, petals spreading open in a fractal of synchronized curls. Each unfurling releases a small magnetic charge. She tosses the flower aside, giggles and materialize-picks another. This time it¡¯s a yellow core of tinier flowers inside a larger white petaled array. ¡°This one¡¯s my sister, Daisy.¡±


    ¡°Your sister is very pretty.¡±


    ¡°Not as pretty as me though.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t dare compare.¡± Akki allows herself to relax. Here there¡¯s peace. The sweet winds are the creation of an innocent¡¯s imagination. If Rosie were like Milli, she couldn¡¯t have created a place this wonderful. In her relief, Akki discovers the rich companionship of serenity.


    Then comes the nightmare. An acrid breeze wafts over them, turning the soft floral scents putrid.


    Rosie¡¯s brown eyes widen under the dawn of fear.


    In a tumult of cyclonic desaturation, the hues surrounding them fade until all that¡¯s left in color are Akki, her sword glittering so silvery black that no one would dare call it colorless, Rosie, and the daisy. Rosie, trembling, clenches the daisy over her heart. Without awareness or intent, she crumples the symbolic representation of her sister.


    Her talent forges itself a double-edge. The magnetism contorts with painful, stretchy gravity as opposing forces battle for dominion over the dreamscape. Now without pigment, the vibrancy of emotion actualizes via the value scale from shade to light. Illusory shapes emerge in shadow and transform into trueness by their auric impression. Negative space retreats. The darkening encroaches.


    Akki shields Rosie from the most silhouetted division of flowers, ready to do away with this nightmare once it completes its arrival. What scared her? Did I misspeak? Did I somehow invoke this reaction?


    The sword yearns to fight. It lurches into guard, and Akki allows the claw to yank her arm into an aggressive posture. They¡¯re ready. Their collective aura banishes any semblance of interruption Rosie¡¯s power might find to impede their movement. It¡¯s a reclamation of space by determination. If nothing else is learned in vitalian trials, it¡¯s that in astral realms valor wins. Rosie might be talented, but she¡¯s underdeveloped, inexperienced. Most likely, she¡¯s never had to hone her fervor. She slinks behind Akki and whimpers.


    The nightmare forms its body in degrees. It travels in gray clumps as it slides to impose its presence from another angle.


    ¡°It¡¯s blurry,¡± says Rosie.


    Unlike Rosie¡¯s, Akki¡¯s vision reveals all. Even a dreamwalker¡¯s sight can¡¯t compare to a vitalian¡¯s. Though Rosie can¡¯t, Akki sees when the nightmare changes direction. It lashes for them in a twist of confused grasses and torn petals.


    Akki intervenes.


    It scatters. Reassembling, it whirls the atmosphere with agitation.


    Akki stands her ground.


    It rushes them again.


    Akki deflects.


    It regroups.


    Rosie remains close. Akki senses her in the resonance even when they aren¡¯t touching, but the more the nightmare startles Rosie the more her presence dwindles. She¡¯s cowering. Akki defends with diligence but finds herself glancing down to be sure Rosie is near. Dreamwalker talent aside, youth amplifies spiritual vulnerability. A child¡¯s tether is malleable. That¡¯s why nightmares often leave greater impressions on the young. It¡¯s also why, whenever possible, they use them as means into the waking world. Akki must stop both fates from befalling Rosie. If necessary, Akki will chase the nightmare beyond the dreamscape, but doing so would strain her own tether. Best to keep the conflict here where she¡¯s most powerful.


    The nightmare roars its gray breath into angry gusts.


    Slaying this would be easier if I knew what sprung it forth.


    It careens at them.


    Akki roots herself and counters.


    The nightmare recoils and doubles its efforts.


    Rosie squeaks in fright.


    Until more is understood, there¡¯s nothing to be done but defend. Akki works in a violent martial rhythm, keeping the blurred shadows from engulfing herself and Rosie. The color of the nightmare¡¯s onslaught changes, oxidizes at its center, and something fluttery glances against Akki¡¯s blade from deep within the burbling chromatic bursts.


    With every parry, the sword growls in impatience. It wants to destroy their enemy in one fell swoop.


    We don¡¯t yet know if that¡¯s wise.


    Rosie clamps onto Akki¡¯s leg, and Akki almost twitches away. A reflex from Milli, who ensnares those she touches. But Rosie isn¡¯t Milli, so Akki stills the urge.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± asks Rosie. ¡°Where are we?¡±


    ¡°In your dream.¡± Akki fends off another attack.


    With noise like rustling paper, the nightmare lurches out of reach. The sword darts forward, pulling Akki into a thrust.


    ¡°But where in my dream?¡±


    ¡°Where do you think we are?¡± Akki is stretched thin. Her deformity fatigues her spirit, but she shouldn¡¯t let that show in front of Rosie, who for now needs a mentor that inspires confidence. The sword covers Akki¡¯s slack, and she allows it. In a fa?ade of stubborn, immobile offence, she points its tip at the roiling nightmare. ¡°Don¡¯t let this distract you. Consult your inner self.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not myself when I¡¯m scare¡ª¡± Midsentence, Rosie shrieks in alarm.


    Akki pivots.


    An unseen force hurtles Rosie backward, past the safety of Akki¡¯s sword range then beyond the flower fields into sudden woods that spring up afar. What pulls her is imageless. It¡¯s pure, heedless emotion, all sweaty anxiety and thunder-pressurized heartbeats, sensations without iconography besides their effect. Lacking corporeality makes it an amplified creature of fright.


    As any nonlucid dreamer would, Rosie wails and screams. Either she¡¯s forgotten her power here or doesn¡¯t understand its scope.


    Off her own shoulder, Akki senses the original nightmare change. A flicker of silver coupled with a faint giggle drives her toward Rosie.


    I crossed my nightmare. I crossed it, and the real Milli can¡¯t enter minds.


    Rosie matters more than a half-formed memory. Akki hastens, but the terrain impedes her way. Pine trails erupt from the woods and crawl through the flowers, crushing petals, stabbing the ground with tawny needles that in nature would lay flat but here stand up like so many pins. The option to run vanishes.


    Akki¡¯s sword was once a dragon. Once one, always one. It initiates the solution. Phantom leathered wings glimmer into existence in Akki¡¯s peripheral vision. Heat¡ªreminiscent of Kits¡¯ magic¡ªswells at her back, and a transparent great claw clamps around her middle, delicately enough to keep from slicing into her.


    The ground descends.


    They fly.


    Enter the woods, and as they stream past trees, the bark textures speed-blend smooth. Under mighty draconic flaps, branches snap to make way. Nearing a denser area, Akki tucks herself tightly and relishes the vertigo when her dragon spins not around but through the obstructions. They burst into open sky and share a suspended, blissful moment midair. Then in a vigorous motion, Akki untucks herself, spreading her limbs synchronically with her dragon¡¯s as it reopens its wings to full span. Their simultaneous extension ushers a gust that bends the treetops bordering the clearing¡¯s opposite side.


    The glade¡¯s grasses are upturned needles, not pine but compass. Rosie crouches in a vacant patch of earth between them, scratches appearing on her arms. Her talent has turned against her. There among the red and silver protrusions, Akki spots the nightmare.


    Attacking from cardinal directions, it torments Rosie, passing through her in smudgy blurs. Each blur rends flesh, slicing outward from within, carving shallow cuts that multiply. A meager torture by degrees, it¡¯s an accumulation of tiny slivers greater than any individual would-be scar.


    Akki and her dragon together swoop behind the nightmare and hamstring it.


    Rosie screams. A fresh cut, deeper than the others, appears on the back of her leg.


    Akki¡¯s heart jolts. She hesitates the killing strike.


    Heedless of Akki¡¯s halting, her dragon keeps the advance.


    The nightmare flops along the ground. Silver-red needles warp beneath its laborious blurs.


    In every sob, Rosie keens. She curls into a facedown ball, tears soddening the dreamscape¡¯s dirt. Like Kits in Akki¡¯s nightmare, she bleeds.


    The dragon roars. Wings out, free arm lifting, it lusts to bestow the nightmare¡¯s end.


    Akki plants her feet and regrips the hilt. She yanks the sword skyward and backward, lowering her stance as the blade arcs overhead. The effort makes her throat burn. In the waking world, the choker must¡¯ve tightened. Straining her tether against the might of a dragon¡¯s will do that.


    The dragon fights for control. It screeches inside her mind volcanic words that echo. It wants the blood it needs the kill let it murder¡ª


    Akki shrills a response in the dragon¡¯s own tongue, ¡°TEMPER YOURSELF!¡±


    Rosie shudders.


    The dragon becomes Akki¡¯s once more and crouches low, calmer but rumbling with growls. It shields them reluctantly with its wings.


    The nightmare attempts to retreat in a crumpled tumble. Unlike Rosie or Kits, it has no blood. Its damage instead adopts the impression of something torn, and the sound it makes whenever it moves resembles rustling paper.


    This imagery is beyond recognition. What is it Rosie fears?


    Akki¡¯s dragon calls her a blind-souled coward.


    She ignores that comment. Beneath the cradle of wings, she begins to weave a bandage from the atmosphere, to morph the dreamscape to the task. Halfway through the reimagining, her airway constricts. The scrap she''s created reweaves itself and becomes gone. Pain swells everywhere in throbs, and her vision withers. Her lungs won''t breathe. Her attention shrinks to the need for air. Her center plummets.


    "I''m scared," says Rosie.


    Akki turns her pain into focus. She''s fallen but not ungripped her sword. Her pulse crashes against the hilt. She counts the beats and inhales, exhales to regain her senses. It''s hot. It''s unclear if the heat is from herself, her dragon, or Rosie''s nightmare.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared," repeats Rosie.


    ¡°I¡¯m here." Akki crawls closer and scoops up Rosie but can do nothing more than hold her. No. There must be something. You are vitalian. Know the nightmare. Find the fear. "Rosie, tell me of what. Scared of what?"


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where I am.¡±


    ¡°No one knows where they are all the time.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m lost.¡±


    Rosie''s words remove from the nightmare a sheen. Beyond the transparent wings of Akki''s dragon, the smudgy blur shocks into focus. An unhindered view of its absolute form is revealed.


    It''s a conglomeration of maps and compasses, crisscrossed and overlapped so no sane mind could make sense of which cardinal directions belong where. The many map key''s sharp marks of forests and wandering rivulet rivers bleed into each other on faded, feather-sheared pages that then flap into scales of macabre origami. Papercut slices are the nightmare''s clutches, and glass from broken compass faces cling to its extremities, sharpening each edge. Its dreadful aura dwarfs the glade''s, puts the cracked-symbol foliage to shame.


    With the nightmare now clear before them, its stench wafts stronger, and Akki can place the pungence. It''s of old paper, worn yellowing, multiplied by the multitude of maps arranged in its composition.


    The nightmare crinkles whence it crawled to avoid Akki and her dragon''s wrath. Its pages shift, sending sounds of its shredded form hissing, scurrying past the gaps in the dragon''s wings. In the way of dreams, which are tied to memory and thus always close in the ear, the noise is much louder than it would be in the waking world.


    Rosie''s resonance rises and builds. It overtakes Akki, buzzes the hearing out of her ears, blinds her. Bracing, she waits for the fit to pass. When her vision returns, her dragon has crouched more deeply to lend her and Rosie the bulk of its cover. The nightmare is stationary. Rosie''s wounds remain.


    Softer to Akki than before but nonetheless heard, her dragon''s voice, a wisp in her inner ear: Understand.


    Akki understands.


    When Rosie was yanked away, hurtled beyond reach, when Akki''s first instinct was to turn her back on the half-formed nightmare already at her blade''s tip and chase after what threatened Rosie, she told herself it was to save the dreamer, not to escape her own discomfort.


    Now she understands the truth, the real reason for the strength of Rosie''s resonance with her.


    No wonder I turned away. It¡¯s instinct to avoid your own fear.


    In the wake of her father''s destruction, wherein Vitalia decided by unconscious consensus the same fate would likely also befall his heir, Akki assumed her people treated her not with cruelty but in a way that was perversely kind.


    No use befriending a lost cause.


    Viewed through that lens, blunting the shunning''s pain became easier. Just as her fellow vitalians shunned her, so too did Akki shun her fear by disregarding it until that part of herself became unrecognizable. Her dragon¡¯s insult had been insight.


    I was wrong back then. What they showed me wasn¡¯t kindness. It was cowardice.


    In front of her, the sole reflection on their black blade, Akki¡¯s dragon digs its ethereal claws into the dirt. Its chest expands in a bellow, the primal sound of reminding.


    Rosie¡¯s weight, cradled in Akki¡¯s arm, becomes heavier.


    Those cowards birthed a fool. My haste has harmed the dreamer.


    The fabric on Akki¡¯s knee saturates with Rosie¡¯s hamstrung blood. Worse every instant, Rosie¡¯s aura and power wane and drain along with her color. The magnetism nauseates, swirling, as she heaves with breathy sobs. Her eyes are wide in sclera-shown terror. She¡¯s hurt all over, but the worst wound is the one Akki herself inflicted. Guilt worries at Akki¡¯s spirit.


    The nightmare¡¯s myriad cuts and shredded inks mirror Rosie¡¯s condition. It shivers out of reach.


    ¡°Y¡¯know,¡± Kaia, Kits¡¯ kindred, once said offhandedly to Akki in the waking world. ¡°You kinda can¡¯t slay yourself out of being lost. I mean that¡¯s the whole point of having a map.¡±


    ¡°What map?¡± Kits had rebutted at the time. ¡°Do you see a map? I don¡¯t see a map.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point,¡± said Kaia.


    ¡°Then what is the point?¡±


    The point is, Akki realizes, here it¡¯s different.


    Rosie has a map.


    Hers is a nightmare created from her of her. Not all are in that category, but hers is, which is why it mimics her state. As a potential dreamwalker, her talent amplified the effect. She must¡¯ve twisted the dream against herself subconsciously.


    ¡°Did Rosie twist it or did you?¡± It¡¯s Milli¡¯s snide voice in Akki¡¯s mind but the taunt is ignored because guilt won¡¯t fix this at its roots.


    This isn¡¯t a nightmare to be slain. It¡¯s one that must be mended.


    Rosie has power. All she needs is the fortitude to find it.


    In cases like these, the nightmare isn¡¯t even the vitalian¡¯s duty to fix. It¡¯s the dreamer¡¯s. Overtaxed by tether strain, technically an intruder here, Akki¡¯s singular option is to help Rosie help herself.


    My duty is still to her. Direct or not, I¡¯ll assist. There¡¯s always something I can do. Always.


    The directions are all there, tattered before them, awaiting repair.


    Rosie¡¯s eyes are unfocused.


    How do I dispel the wounds of confusion?


    An image of Kits enters Akki¡¯s mind. A memory from the waking world at the lip of an active volcano, Kits licks ice cream that, thanks to her soul¡¯s control over temperature, isn¡¯t melting. She sits with her svelte blue legs bare and crossed at the ankles, her free hand propping her up from behind. That hand happens to be sunk to the wrist in a stream of oozing lava. Kits, unbothered, grins. She offers Akki the ice cream. ¡°Want some? The humans say it takes their minds off the heat.¡±


    Ah.


    Distraction is the bane of fear.


    What serves as good distraction?


    Memory-Kits waggles the ice cream.


    ¡°Rosie.¡± Akki, in a fit of fatigue-fire, feels her voice turn wan. She rearticulates. ¡°Have you ever had ice cream?¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Rosie¡¯s left eye refocuses. Her voice is small but curious. Her attention has been redirected.


    ¡°Ice cream.¡± Akki breathes to calm her shaking limbs and swallows the pain that her constricting tether has sent searing through her throat to the rest of her. ¡°The dessert.¡±


    ¡°Everyone¡¯s had ice cream.¡± Rosie¡¯s right eye becomes clear as well.


    ¡°Do you like ice cream?¡±


    ¡°Everyone likes ice cream.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m inclined to believe that¡¯s true.¡±


    ¡°Duh!¡± The scratches on Rosie¡¯s arms fade, one by one, with every word. ¡°I¡¯ve never met anyone who doesn¡¯t like ice cream.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a favorite flavor?¡±


    ¡°Green minty flavor.¡±


    A portion of Rosie¡¯s nightmare spins its own vortex, pulls from within itself and unfolds the greater map outward. One little river becomes readably brighter. That river bleeds into other bodies of water. Turquoise blue merges with itself and grows, forming a pathway through the map¡¯s mountains, cities, towns, fields, forests. The waters¡¯ pattern gives the impression of fractal flowers. The compass shards that the pathway crosses extricate themselves from the paper and fall upon the dry dirt of Rosie¡¯s dreamscape, forgotten. Not even a clink as they land.


    Success so far.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had Green Minty Flavor.¡± Akki moves to sheathe her sword. Gingerly, with Rosie still cradled in her free arm, Akki shifts her weight and slides the black blade back into its scabbard. Her dragon¡¯s head moves along with the motion, a smooth swiveling that¡¯s synchronized with Akki¡¯s graceful form. ¡°Could you describe it for me?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s milky cold like all ice cream and it¡¯s got chocolate chips that aren¡¯t shaped like tiny kisses but are still good. And the green flavor is really bright. Not like any other green I¡¯ve tasted. It¡¯s good by itself but waffle cones with sprinkles make it even better.¡±


    ¡°It sounds wonderful.¡±


    ¡°It is wonderful! The green isn¡¯t grass color either. Maybe it¡¯s the color of mint. I never had a mint plant, just daisies.¡±


    The turquoise luminescence of the map¡¯s rivers which became a flower saturates golden. The fractal patterns dance into a finer form of petals, glowing white around a yellowing iris. A daisy. Its stem extends into the ground, nourished by river runoff as the cracked faces and glass shards of the compass constructions continue to tumble toward the now soggy dirt. The red needles that stab the surrounding terrain warp and sway. In the mud they descend deeper, soak up map-water pools, and grow a lively green.


    Warm, damp air and a velvety petal scent caress through Akki¡¯s dragon¡¯s defenses. Inhaling the aroma, Akki¡¯s throat suddenly constricts. The pain is an enflamed noose made of knives coiling tighter. She winces and exhales through her nose. The hurt worsens. Subtle degradation climbs her esophagus, an echo of her tether, and gets stuck above her heart. Now that the danger¡¯s immediacy is gone, Akki realizes the severity of her fatigue. Breathing makes her shake and agitation makes her sweat. The pressure on her psyche incites aggravation about her own condition. However, these emotions are hers, not Rosie¡¯s. They must be controlled. By focusing on supporting Rosie¡¯s weight, Akki re-centers herself.


    The aromatic breeze softens, its parfum of summer¡¯s cusp.


    Akki¡¯s dragon stands like stone. All it moves is breath. Glass and white compass needles stick up sharp among the grass. Rosie¡¯s overalls are slick where Akki sliced her nightmare, but otherwise have stitched themselves together. The recovery seems seamless.


    Until Rosie recoils. She frowns, and the magnetism between them pulls on Akki¡¯s spirit with intangible threads of thick, sticky tar. They tug on awareness, siphoning and viscous, a rotten net finding crevices in the crown of the mind. Rosie turns her head.


    ¡°Oh Daisy,¡± says Rosie. ¡°A daisy for Daisy.¡± Above the daisy, the dreamscape¡¯s sky rends itself then reweaves into a brown astral boot. The boot hovers there in tattered space, suspended, then stomps. Soundlessly, blood appears on the metal toe. No more daisy. ¡°If he didn¡¯t mean it, then why¡¯d he do it? He crushed her. He crushed my Daisy!¡±


    Akki¡¯s pain halts. Fury doesn¡¯t rise in her. It becomes her. Cold, hard, inert readiness. How her sword is, the way of her dragon. She understands what she¡¯s seeing and understands why Rosie doesn¡¯t. Rosie is young. Akki isn¡¯t. In the blood on that boot is a mirror of her own failure. Even worse, there¡¯s nothing to do with the anger. Violent direction of it would exacerbate the problem.


    She wonders if she ever left her own nightmare.


    Thinking that way won¡¯t help. Akki considers the methods she¡¯s already attempted as well as their consequences. The state both of them are in, only one thing left to do: outthink the nightmare. Rosie must rationalize it into a better dream.


    How can this imagery be transformed? What way is there to heal this?


    Akki extends her sword, testing her own influence over the nightmare. Her neck constricts with the effort. In the waking world, the choker must be tight enough to get in the way of her airway, but she needs to do this, so she doesn¡¯t stop. In response, the boot lifts to reveal the daisy, which is squished but not dead. The blood is only on the petals, not the roots or stem. The stem is bent but unbroken. Akki knows she¡¯s too fatigued to have moved the boot herself, and guards herself in a pose made cumbersome by Rosie being in her lap.


    ¡°You¡¯re overstraining,¡± says Akki¡¯s dragon, who adjusts its position to account for Akki¡¯s movement. The dragon retracts one claw from the dirt and moves it slowly backward, the bond between it and the sword forcing Akki to do the same.


    Rosie squints at the boot, the daisy.


    ¡°She¡¯s not dead,¡± says Rosie. ¡°Can I fix her?¡±


    ¡°This is your dream.¡± Akki¡¯s memory of Kits from another world prompts her to quote, ¡°Have you ever seen a plant growing out of a shoe?¡±


    ¡°A shoe as a flowerpot?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I never thought of that.¡±


    ¡°Neither did I until it was mentioned to me.¡±


    ¡°Who mentioned it?¡± Rosie¡¯s expression changes from curious to pondersome. An improvement, which steals Akki¡¯s time to elaborate. ¡°But how do I do it?¡±


    ¡°Think it into existence,¡± says Akki. ¡°Concentrate.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±


    The boot wiggles. Akki feels the magnetism in waves of sway as Rosie remolds her own nightmare. The boot swings upside down, and a sock falls atop the daisy. As soon as it lands, the sock vanishes. Rosie moans and rolls over, forcing Akki to hunch as Rosie crawls off her lap to approach the daisy.


    As she goes, Rosie collects one of the compass needles that previously fell to the ground. The moment Rosie touches the compass needle, the wound on her hamstring stitches itself back together.


    In relief, Akki exhales, but the recovery isn¡¯t seamless. It leaves a scar.


    Akki¡¯s dragon stands taller.


    ¡°I have to fix the stem.¡± Rosie reaches the daisy and cups her hand around the stem. Gently, she squeezes until it¡¯s upright. A plant Akki has never seen before, a type of vine, slithers into existence near Rosie. Rosie picks it up and uses it, along with the compass needle, as a splint for the stem. Then she sits on her haunches and tilts her head. The boot flips over and falls to the ground, thumping as it lands. Then Rosie begins gathering dirt. She laboriously packs it into the boot and carefully replants the daisy inside the makeshift flowerpot. She wipes the bloodstain off the toe of the boot, and the blood on the petals also fades. So does the blood that dried around her own scar.


    ¡°My sister taught me to do this.¡± Rosie continues replanting the daisy. ¡°She loves gardening.¡±


    Because Rosie now seems to have the nightmare¡ªno, dream under control, Akki¡¯s first instinct is to pause and appreciate the reprieve. Repose is welcome. It alleviates the guilt Akki had been carrying for harming Rosie when the nightmare began.


    ¡°Rosie.¡± Akki is out of breath due to overexertion. She sheathes her sword and painstakingly stands, then bows so her waist is exactly perpendicular to the ground. Her dragon disappears. ¡°My work here is done. I shall depart.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± says Rosie.


    A painful pull of magnetism on her own tether causes Akki to wince and stop. Scraping sounds emit from her sheath. Her dragon is ready to continue, but Akki keeps the sword in the scabbard.


    The boot has transformed into a delightful lighter colored flower-holder, and Rosie seems no longer in distress. The compass needle and vines are doing their part to keep the daisy upright. Littered on the ground, the other needles and glass that fell remain. Rosie tiptoes around them back to Akki. ¡°I have to give you something.¡±


    ¡°No need.¡±


    ¡°But you helped!¡± Rosie indicates the fallen compass parts. ¡°And these are all extra and now I know I can arrange them into something else if I want.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± says Akki. ¡°Anything in a dream can be changed if the dreamer wills it.¡± With few exceptions.


    ¡°Well I want to give you something for helping me.¡±


    ¡°Then I won¡¯t object.¡± Akki bows her head and shoulders.


    Rosie smiles and claps. Obviously excited, she spins back toward the dream she remade. Then she sits on her haunches, unhindered by injury, near pieces of the compass that fell away when she reshaped her nightmare. She hums in thought, then reaches for them.


    The magnetism is now a calm caress, like walking through a silk curtain. When Rosie turns to face Akki, the leftover parts float to Rosie and hover a few inches over her tiny open palms. The pieces orbit each other, the silk sensation as exact as if directed by a seamstress, and form a new shape¡ªthat of an upcycled flower. A species all its own, the flower¡¯s pistil is tumbled glass, its petals alternating red and white compass needles that have softened so much they curl in the wind. A breeze of resolution emphasizes Rosie¡¯s accomplishment, and she hands Akki her invention.


    ¡°Do you like it,¡± asks Rosie.


    ¡°I love it.¡± Akki accepts the work of art and tucks it behind one ear. ¡°The glass. Does it match my eyes?¡±


    ¡°Not really. Your eyes look like mirrors to me.¡±


    Akki smiles.


    ¡°But the flower still looks pretty there!¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Rosie.¡± Akki bows deeply, keeping her hand on the stem of Rosie¡¯s piece of art so it won¡¯t fall. ¡°But now I must really depart. You¡¯re not the only dreamer I assist tonight.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± Rosie waves goodbye and returns to her boot-cradled daisy. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure this one grows real bright and tall.¡±


    Akki gives a curt nod and, as promised, departs. Armed with Rosie¡¯s art, Akki leaves through the nexus of tethers and encounters what she always first encounters.


    The nightmare begins with a giggle, one that sounds playful, innocent.

 Trapped

    He had the same dream every night. He was in a box, and it was getting smaller. There were no windows or doors, and the only openings were those that let in streams of light Shawn couldn¡¯t reach because he was chained to the floor. It was just him, trapped. Until it wasn¡¯t just him anymore. Every night Shawn had the dream, and every night she came when he screamed.


    She bowed. She introduced herself. She didn¡¯t draw the sword she carried. The woman with the eerie eyes and the rotted neck. Akki.


    ¡°Greetings, Shawn.¡± Akki was still bowing. ¡°Do you remember me?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember what I¡¯m about to do?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Would you ask me to?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    Akki sliced the chains that held Shawn down. It was one masterful motion, a swift swoop upward, and Shawn was free of the chains. He sat there and marveled at her, then noticed the room getting smaller, the holes that let in light getting thinner. Akki seemed unperturbed by this, as always. He¡¯d never admit it out loud, but Akki¡¯s nonchalance scared him too. Along with her appearance. How did she walk around with her neck like that? How did she have such poise? It was unnatural. Gave Shawn the shivers.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna die in here,¡± said Shawn.


    ¡°Not if the room stops shrinking.¡±


    ¡°But I don¡¯t have any control over that!¡±


    ¡°Yes, you do.¡± Akki stared at him, the pinhole light casting bright dots on her eyes. ¡°A dreamer always has the most control of their own dreamscape.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have control over anything. Not even when I¡¯m awake.¡±


    ¡°Then that is the reason this one is recurrant.¡± Akki drew her sword. She held it up and the ceiling halted. ¡°Lack of control in the waking world can seep into the dreamscape. The same holds true in reverse.¡±


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m deciding to.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it.¡±


    The walls were still squeezing closer. The chains that before held Shawn clanked against the incoming wall and scraped along the floor as it pushed.


    ¡°In waking life,¡± said Akki. ¡°Where do you feel least in control?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Are you lucid? I¡¯ve already explained what that has to do with your dreamscape.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    She had mentioned before that the waking world, as she called it, reflected the dreamscape, but Shawn didn¡¯t know what in the waking world was causing this dream. In the waking world, he was in control most of the time. He was the star athlete, the one everyone looked up to, and also on the fast track to being valedictorian. He was in control. The only thing he wasn¡¯t in control of was what other people thought of him.


    ¡°It¡¯s pressure,¡± said Shawn.


    ¡°Pressure?¡±


    ¡°To perform.¡±


    ¡°Once you¡¯re on the top, you can¡¯t slip up. People remember if you hit rock bottom.¡±


    The walls inched closer. The ceiling somehow slipped around Akki¡¯s hold of it and lowered.


    ¡°One mistake leads to another,¡± said Shawn. ¡°And another and another, until all you are is a failure.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a failure.¡± Akki swiveled her wrist and the ceiling stopped falling again. ¡°One mistake doesn¡¯t always lead to many either.¡±


    The wall to the right of Akki slid faster toward them. She put out her right hand in a gesture that meant stop, and the wall halted.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± asked Shawn. He was wide-eyed on the floor on all fours. He gazed up at her and tried to figure out the positioning, because maybe if she could do it, he could do it too. ¡°Is it just a pose, or are you doing something else too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m refusing to compromise,¡± said Akki.


    The streams of sunlight vanished and they were left in the dark.


    That hadn¡¯t ever happened before. Shawn picked himself up off the floor. He wanted to reach for Akki but he didn¡¯t know how far the walls were from them, aside from the fact they were closing in, and he didn¡¯t know what to do even if he did reach her. But he had to do something, anything, to get out of here and not be crushed. He sat there feeling like an idiot. Then he put his hand out, facing the wall on Akki¡¯s left.


    ¡°The last time I was here,¡± said Akki. ¡°You mentioned you were on an athletics team.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, so?¡± The wall kept getting closer. He just knew that¡¯s what was happening, regardless of the visuals. Dreams are weird that way.


    ¡°So, you also said you were the leader.¡±


    ¡°Leader is putting it too heavily. The whole team has to work together to win.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you not working together with me?¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t know how!¡±


    ¡°What is it you¡¯re compromising on in waking life?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, everything? But it¡¯s not my fault my dad won¡¯t listen to me.¡±


    The wall behind Shawn reached his back and was still pushing. He nearly tripped over the broken chains as he braced to maintain his balance.


    ¡°What do you really want?¡± Akki¡¯s voice never wavered. She must not be afraid of anything. ¡°Beyond the surface, what is it your soul craves?¡±


    Shawn pushed harder against the wall at his back, lowering his arm to do so. ¡°Time,¡± he blurted.


    ¡°Time?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I said that but I know what it means.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re being crushed and you¡¯re psychoanalyzing me. You figure out what it means.¡± He always had gotten ruder whenever he was stressed. He winced as he realized he sounded exactly like his father. You figure out what it means. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°In waking life,¡± said Akki. ¡°Refuse to compromise on something. It need not be more than one. Just one. A new one.¡±


    ¡°I really want to quit.¡± Shawn¡¯s admission came as a surprise even to him. ¡°The team. I¡¯ve been wanting to quit for ages but I¡¯m the best player. It¡¯s no fun anymore, having to defend my position. And so many people looking up to me. But I started for the game initially, not the status. The game itself.¡±


    ¡°Then that is what you must do. Quit the team.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t just¡ª¡±


    The walls rushed faster and Shawn awoke in his bed. He wasn¡¯t panting or sweating or anything, but he remembered what he dreamt. He wondered why it was always a blond who came to his rescue. Maybe too much of that one TV show. Lingering in the back of his mind were her pointers. He thought on it. Quitting. It would be liberating, right? Freeing? For him, but the team would suffer. There wasn¡¯t anything he could do about that area of his life. But what if it was as easy as just quitting? What if he could do it?


    His dad would have a shitfit.


    Shawn attempted to tell his father how he felt at breakfast, but no words came out of his mouth when he tried to breach the subject.


    And he went to practice and tried to tell Coach and nothing came out then either.


    And he went to sleep and had the dream. Again and again and again.

 Bugs

    That night, as Fiona curled under the covers, a slight headache throbbed behind her eyes.


    The dream started in the kitchen. The tile was spotless and there weren¡¯t any dishes in the sink. The chrome of the faucet reflected light from the windows. It was midday in summer, and birds chirped outside. It was peaceful. Fiona rubbed her eyes and yawned. She opened the fridge to find it empty, and she opened the cabinets to find roaches.


    With a yelp, she scurried back, away from the open cabinet. The roaches climbed over each other, a swarm of disgusting scuttling, and some eventually fell out of the cabinet into the sink. It was a waterfall of grossness. One landed on the spot of sunlight atop the faucet, and its brown body dulled the reflection of the sun¡¯s rays.


    ¡°Ew!¡± Fiona fled the room, searching for bug spray or roach killer or else something that could get rid of the pest problem. ¡°Ew, ew, ew!¡± She found herself in her bathroom, opening and closing the mirror cabinet that contained her medications. In that way of dreams where the illogical seems logical, she spun open her medication to find in there a beetle. It flew up out of the pill bottle and at Fiona¡¯s face.


    Screaming, Fiona dropped the pill bottle and ran out of the room. Her little pink prescription pills spilled out onto the tile. The beetle flew after her. Bugs. Of all things, bugs! She kept screaming.


    Across the dreamscape, past the tetherknots, a woman with silvery mirrors for eyes, a rotting neck, and long, blonde hair turned to face Fiona¡¯s tether. The woman grabbed hold and rode the tether straight into Fiona¡¯s nightmare.


    Fiona had found her way into the living room to perch on top of the couch, and the roaches and other bugs had found their way into the carpet below. The woman landed right on top of them, crunching a bunch underfoot.


    ¡°I am Akki,¡± said the woman. ¡°Slayer of Nightmares.¡±


    ¡°Your neck,¡± said Fiona. ¡°Oh my god, your neck!¡±


    The bugs spanned the entirety of the floor now, and more layers revealed themselves out of crannies and nooks.


    ¡°I assume you fear insects,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°There¡¯s so many! I can¡¯t squish them all.¡±


    ¡°Have you tried fire?¡± asked Akki. The sword at her belt shook, and a sound like a bellow erupted from it.


    ¡°What the heck was that?!¡±


    ¡°A dragon, but not one to be feared. Shall I slay your nightmare?¡±


    ¡°If you can get me out of this then be my guest.¡±


    ¡°Be your¡­ guest?¡±


    ¡°Get rid of them!¡±


    ¡°Very well.¡± Akki unsheathed her sword. It had a black blade and looked nothing like a dragon. ¡°I shall enjoy this.¡±


    A roar pierced the air. Its sheer volume scattered some of the bugs. They scuttled away from Akki¡¯s feet.


    Fiona shrunk down, grasping the top pillows at the back of the couch. She made a squealing noise that was very small at the back of her throat.


    A bug crawled up the pillow toward her ear. She felt it in a phantom way before it entered for real, and then she bolted straight upright, trying to scratch it out of her ear. She could hear it and feel it simultaneously as it moved and maneuvered around her pinky finger, tapping at her eardrum. Panic and dread comingled, and more bugs found their way up her legs. Because it was a dream, she knew automatically they sought more places to enter her body.


    Then Akki was there, swatting at them, but Fiona was too afraid, too focused on getting the one out of her ear, to see what else Akki was doing. Whatever it was, it did lessen the number of bugs, and it felt hot.


    ¡°Let me see your ear,¡± said Akki.


    Fiona was too busy screaming to answer.


    ¡°Let me see,¡± said Akki. She grabbed Fiona¡¯s arm and climbed up to the back of the couch herself, far more gracefully than Fiona had. ¡°If I can see it, I can get it. Calm down.¡±The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I can¡¯t calm down! Get it out! Get it out get it out get it out!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a beetle.¡± Akki yanked Fiona¡¯s arm away from the ear and stared down the orifice. ¡°My dragon¡¯s method won¡¯t work without hurting you, but maybe we can entice it out of there. What do beetles eat?¡±


    ¡°Are you shitting me right now?¡± Fiona¡¯s mood flashed from terrified to furious. ¡°How should I know what beetles eat?!¡±


    ¡°Apologies. It was only a suggestion.¡± Akki moved away from Fiona¡¯s ear and with one sweeping motion performed a slash at the lower part of the couch, where so many of the bugs had gathered. Fire leapt from beside the blade and burned the bugs there to ashes.


    No wonder she couldn¡¯t use that method on Fiona¡¯s ear. Sheesh!


    ¡°How about water,¡± said Akki. ¡°Flush it out.¡±


    ¡°Water. The kitchen.¡± Fiona remembered what she¡¯d forgotten. ¡°The kitchen is where they¡¯re coming from. A cabinet over the kitchen sink.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll burn them away for you to gather water.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t burn my house down.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡± Akki¡¯s lips quirked up on one side, a slip that she found something humorous.


    They ran to the kitchen.


    The bugs followed.


    Akki sheathed her sword and turned on the faucet. Something about her presence made the bugs there flee, but other than flashes of silvery reptilian flesh around Akki, there was no sign of why they fled.


    ¡°Your head.¡± Akki pointed to the running water.


    Fiona dunked her head under there and tried not to feel the squirming of the beetle and the rush of water cleansing out her ear. She tried not to puke as the sensation of wet wriggling legs slipped out of her ear canal onto her cheek. Then she realized she had to puke anyways. She turned her head and emptied her stomach into the sink while Akki held her hair.


    The beetle survived all this.


    ¡°Towels,¡± said Akki. Said, not asked. She somehow produced one from thin air and handed it to Fiona.


    Fiona took it ungracefully and pat down her head. ¡°Is it out?¡±


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s out.¡±


    The sound of the rest of the bugs was deafening, and there seemed to be more of them every moment.


    ¡°But what about the rest of them? Where are they all coming from?¡±


    ¡°Seems the cabinet and the carpet,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°The kitchen was spotless at the start of this, and so was the rest of the house. I didn¡¯t invite them in here. They invaded!¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± said Akki. ¡°How is your health in the waking world?¡±


    ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°You see what?¡±


    ¡°Are you healthy?¡±


    Fiona paused.


    Akki waited.


    ¡°No. No, I¡¯m not healthy. I have an operation soon too.¡±


    ¡°Is it invasive?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then you may want to consider¡±¡ªAkki gestured to the bugs¡ª ¡°postponing until this problem goes away.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with this?¡± Fiona crossed her arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s a common nightmare to dream of insect invasions before one becomes ill.¡±


    ¡°But I was already ill.¡±


    ¡°Then this would complicate things, would it not?¡±


    ¡°Well yeah, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°You said the operation is invasive.¡± Akki stomped on a few roaches that came too close. It was a precise movement, not one of anger or aggravation. ¡°And these invaded your dreamscape. There might be a connection. Sometimes nightmares come as warnings. Warnings are best heeded in these circumstances.¡±


    ¡°And how would you know that?¡±


    ¡°I am also ill.¡± Akki pointed to her rotting neck.


    Fiona swallowed.


    The cluster of bugs on the floor twitched and switched directions, little hairy legs clambering over thoraces. Some buzzed, some clicked, some made noises with no equivalent in the waking world. All advanced toward Fiona.


    Akki stepped in the way and unsheathed her sword. With one slash, she eliminated the first layer of advancing bugs. Fire spewed from beside the blade, and Fiona caught a glimpse of a dragon¡¯s snout, open and directing the flames. It had enormous fangs.


    ¡°How do you know all this?¡± asked Fiona as she hoisted herself up on one knee on the countertop near the sink.


    ¡°It¡¯s my job. I slay nightmares, which I did mention before. It seems clear to me you¡¯re not lucid.¡±


    ¡°Lucid?¡±


    ¡°Aware that you¡¯re dreaming.¡±


    ¡°Well you told me I was dreaming. Having a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Does it feel like a nightmare anymore now?¡±


    ¡°Less so.¡±


    ¡°See.¡±


    ¡°See what?¡±


    Akki got up onto the counter herself, much less clumsily than Fiona had. A spike of jealousy shot through Fiona, but she got over it quickly.


    ¡°See what?¡± Fiona repeated.


    ¡°The more lucid one is, the less fear a nightmare can induce.¡±


    ¡°So that¡¯s why I¡¯m less afraid now than before? I guess that makes sense. But you¡¯ve also been beating back this swarm, which makes more sense about why I¡¯d be less afraid.¡± Fiona felt herself turn red. ¡°Thanks for that, by the way. I was freaking out.¡±


    ¡°As said before, it¡¯s my job.¡±


    Fiona still couldn¡¯t understand how this Akki person could remain so poised under the circumstances, but she was glad for the help.


    ¡°You said nightmares serve as warnings sometimes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°What does this one warn of?¡±


    ¡°Illness, sickness, deterioration. If you were already ill, the condition might worsen. This particular nightmare is sometimes a reminder to take care of oneself.¡±


    ¡°And other times?¡±


    ¡°Other times it speaks of anxiety.¡±


    Fiona thought this over. ¡°So if I wake up and take better care of myself, these dreams about bugs will go away?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, yes.¡±


    ¡°Is there a way you can wake me up?¡±


    ¡°Not until the nightmare is over.¡±


    Somewhere in the waking world, an alarm clock went off.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Akki in acknowledgement. ¡°The dream will soon be over. Take care of your waking world self and these insects likely won¡¯t bother you again.¡± She sheathed her sword and got off the counter, spun around and bowed at Fiona. ¡°Well met, though I never got your name.¡±


    ¡°Fiona.¡±


    ¡°A good name.¡±


    ¡°I think my alarm is going off.¡±


    ¡°Time to wake up.¡±


    Fiona awoke to a stomachache, a fever, and nausea. By some vague recollection of a dream she barely remembered, she decided she had no choice but to postpone the surgery. When it came time to go under the knife, she survived.

 Paralysis

    It happened on the night Oliver hung the dreamcatcher. Normally, bedtime meant nightmares. He hoped the dreamcatcher would help with that, but he never expected what happened to happen.


    It was in that gray area between falling asleep and being asleep when it started. First, the numbing sensation in all his toes that traveled up his body. Then the sense of dread. Then the paralysis set in and he couldn¡¯t move no matter how hard he tried. His breath came out in hasty puffs of desperation and he stared at the ceiling, feeling the thin breath of the fan as he watched it swirl hypnotically.


    Then the black figure over the bed.


    It stood there.


    It just stood there.


    Oliver couldn¡¯t move. Maybe it couldn¡¯t either. Maybe the dreamcatcher was working. Maybe it couldn¡¯t strangle him this time.


    It just stood there.


    ¡°Apologies,¡± it said in a female voice. ¡°But it seems I¡¯ve gotten myself stuck.¡±


    It didn¡¯t sound like that last time. That wasn¡¯t its voice. This voice was new, and sounded far more pleasant than the thing¡¯s usual vocalizations.


    Oliver couldn¡¯t answer because he couldn¡¯t talk because he couldn¡¯t move. He rasped at her. He was sure she was female.


    ¡°I understand,¡± she said. ¡°I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares. And I understand I¡¯m not the only one stuck.¡±


    Oliver¡¯s rasp became a moan. His left index finger twitched.


    ¡°I would undo this if I could reach you,¡± said Akki, still a silhouette. ¡°But I¡¯m stuck and I can¡¯t. I saw your finger move. Can you move it more?¡±


    Oliver¡¯s mind raced over what to do. This one, whatever it was, didn¡¯t seem as threatening as his previous experiences of these kind.


    ¡°If you could move,¡± said Akki. ¡°Then I could free you from whatever tormented you enough to procure that contraption.¡±


    ¡°Con¡­¡± He could talk! Just barely, but he could talk! ¡°¡­trac¡­tion?¡±


    ¡°The weave which catches dreams.¡±


    ¡°Dream¡­catch¡­er.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that. Apologies for not knowing the proper terminology. It differs depending on where one is.¡±


    Oliver gasped for breath, gathered his willpower, and moved his left arm out. It slid along under the covers, pins and needles hotly travelling up from his palm to his elbow.


    ¡°You can move,¡± said Akki. ¡°Keep going.¡±


    He was about to, but then the other one showed up. The shadow.


    The shadow crept into the weave of the dreamcatcher and stood before Akki. Rather than a spider, it was human shaped. It got stuck too but not as badly. The shadow laughed and struggled against the woven string that bound it. Some of the strings snapped and the dreamcatcher, hanging over the bed, unwove itself and fell. It landed on Oliver¡¯s right side, near his ear. He could hear them talking.


    ¡°Leave,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Leave this morsel?¡± said the shadow.


    ¡°Leave.¡± Akki grunted, and her silhouette twitched its hands toward her middle. The outline of a sheath showed on the ceiling where the play of both figures developed like puppetry. ¡°Or I shall slay you.¡±


    ¡°You? Slay me?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Now go.¡±


    The shadow¡¯s shoulders shook as if in laughter. Oliver¡¯s arm tensed, straightened, and locked itself back in place at his side. He hadn¡¯t been the one to move his own limb. His mouth clamped shut. He couldn¡¯t even scream.


    Then the female figure hunched, pulled out what looked like a blade, and pointed it at the shadow man. Silvery threads fell from her shoulders down her arms and onto the bed where Oliver was fighting the rigidity of his own body with everything he had.


    Nothing moved at his will, not an arm, not a pinky, nor even a strand of his hair. The shadow figure mimicked him. Akki tilted her blade at the shadow man¡¯s throat.


    ¡°Final warning,¡± said Akki. ¡°Begone.¡±


    ¡°You cut me, you cut him.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m no fool. I know which dreams when harmed harm the dreamer. You lie.¡±


    ¡°Then test it.¡±


    ¡°I shall.¡±


    Oliver¡¯s eyes bugged out and he tried to scream but couldn¡¯t.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Akki took a stance and plunged her sword into the shadow man.


    Oliver screamed.


    He screamed, and he scrambled backward on the bed, hitting his head on the headboard as he went. Pain spread across the back of his head and he cupped it reflexively, not registering that he could now move. Not registering that he was unharmed by Akki¡¯s motions.


    The shadow man stood there bent over, Akki¡¯s sword sticking out of its stomach. Akki still held the hilt.


    ¡°See,¡± she said. ¡°You lie.¡±


    ¡°The dreamcatcher,¡± said Oliver. ¡°The dreamcatch¡ª¡±


    ¡°Adults,¡± said the shadow man. ¡°Are talking.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t repair it yet,¡± said Akki. ¡°Lest you catch the wrong dream.¡±


    Oliver¡¯s fingers hovered over the fallen dreamcatcher. He didn¡¯t know how it worked, and he didn¡¯t know how to fix it anyway. He fumbled it into his grasp and held it against his chest. His heart pounded louder, faster, with more apparent depth than before.


    The silhouette play on the ceiling spanned more of the room now. It stretched all along the walls in lines, as if each thread of the dreamcatcher had captured its own portion of the figures fighting. And a fight it was.


    The shadow man pulled the sword out of his stomach and thrust it at Akki, who dodged and ducked out of the way. Then, out of nowhere, the slap of a flat wing materialized in front of the shadow man¡¯s face and slapped him backward so hard he dropped Akki¡¯s blade. She made quick work of rearming herself and took a martial stance, waiting.


    ¡°Leave and you¡¯ll be spared,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Why spare me?¡±


    ¡°Because you have the potential to be good.¡±


    ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°Helpful.¡±


    ¡°An injury,¡± said the shadow man. ¡°And a lecture. I can¡¯t stand your type.¡±


    Oliver, fear-stricken, found it difficult to swallow. He could feel the pounding of his heart near the lump in his throat. Regaining his wits and fueled by adrenaline, he jumped off the bed and flicked on the lights.


    The shadow play on the ceiling and spanning the back wall was still there. He glanced at the dreamcatcher. Maybe if he got rid of it instead of fixing it¡­


    The shadow man lunged at Akki, the ends of his arms forming deeper shadows in the shape of talons. With a parry and a counter, Akki sliced into him. He shrieked unlike a human and backed away from her on the wall, flatly putting a corner between him and her so the line of the room¡¯s corner formed a seam of separation.


    Oliver snatched the dreamcatcher off the bed and ran out of the room. The silhouettes of the two got knocked off balance and rolled over each other, speeding after Oliver, caught in the same streams of thread that the dreamcatcher casted in the first place. Both ducked to avoid the threshold whacking them in the head.


    ¡°Dreamer!¡± Akki rolled up to her feet and hopped, jumped, and leapt to keep up with the everchanging movements of the dreamcatcher¡¯s threads. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Oliver didn¡¯t answer.


    The shadow man, letting the play between light and dark move him unhindered, bounced around in a cartoonish manner.


    Oliver reached the kitchen. He slammed open drawers in the dark before he found the one he was looking for: the junk drawer which contained many an oddity but also wooden matches.


    ¡°I know what he¡¯s doing,¡± said the shadow man amusedly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t burn it,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°You make a lot of demands for a vitalian,¡± said the shadow man. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d meet one afraid of fire. Least of all one wielding a dragonsblade.¡±


    ¡°Fire isn¡¯t what I fear. Dreamcatchers are useful. His can be repaired.¡±


    ¡°You told me not to repair it,¡± said Oliver.


    ¡°Yet,¡± said Akki. ¡°Apologies if I wasn¡¯t clear.¡±


    Oliver struck the match to light it, and the little flame warped the shadows more. He lit one feather at the bottom of the dreamcatcher and let the fire climb. He was going to get rid of this thing one way or another, no matter what it said or pretended to be.


    A crackling firewood noise echoed around the kitchen, much louder than it should¡¯ve been. The shadow play on the walls and ceiling tinted orange. Oliver held the dreamcatcher steady, turning it so the fire could consume and grow.


    ¡°Please put out the fire.¡± Akki spun around and backed into the shadow man.


    The shadow man chuckled. It was only the dragonsblade that deterred him from making a move on Akki.


    ¡°You really are,¡± said the shadow man. ¡°Afraid of getting burnt.¡±


    Akki didn¡¯t respond. She lifted her sword and sliced at the top of the dreamcatcher¡¯s shadow. But it was a shadow of a different kind than the shadow man, one casted from the waking world, and so it didn¡¯t separate at the slice of her blade. She¡¯d have to wait for the flames.


    ¡°This¡¯ll work,¡± Oliver was saying. ¡°This has got to work.¡± The dreamcatcher became too hot for him to hold. He dropped it in the sink.


    The shadow man growled as Akki stepped on him. Akki¡¯s dragon wing returned as she about-faced, and she ran straight toward the flames under the wing¡¯s cover. Then she was out of the dreamcatcher and into the waking world, untangling singed threads from her clothing. The shadow man remained inside the dreamcatcher. It seemed he was stuck for real.


    ¡°Just because you¡¯ve escaped this time,¡± said the shadow man. ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll stop visiting.¡±


    Oliver lit another match.


    Akki sheathed her blade and caught his arm. ¡°Please. Dreamcatchers are useful in that they catch the rotten ones too. It was my mistake coming here when you already had defenses. Apologies.¡± She bowed deeply, and Oliver saw now that she was no longer a silhouette. She was blonde with very pale skin, and there was something gruesomely wrong with her neck.


    The match burned down and seared Oliver¡¯s fingers.


    ¡°Ah!¡± He dropped the match, which landed in the sink and extinguished.


    ¡°Save the dreamcatcher.¡± Akki released Oliver¡¯s arm. ¡°You¡¯ve imprisoned the nightmare. There¡¯s no longer any reason to be afraid.¡±


    ¡°What if it gets out? You got out.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m of a different kind than the one in there.¡±


    ¡°Is that why I¡¯m not afraid of you?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Akki smiled softly. Her eyes flashed oddly in the dark. They perfectly reflected the fire in the sink that was burning the dreamcatcher. It was as if they were made of mirrors. Silvery mirrors.


    The shadow man had no features. He was all pitch dark.


    Oliver turned on the faucet. He pinched the edge of the dreamcatcher and made sure the whole fire was gone before removing it from the sink. When he flicked on the light, there was no trace of the shadow man inside the dreamcatcher, nor anywhere else in the room. Akki stood there formally, as if she were military.


    ¡°Is your nightmare slain?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± said Oliver. ¡°It¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Then it left. There would be a corpse otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said it was stuck.¡±


    ¡°But then you burned the net that caught us. He must¡¯ve found a way out of the threads and fire. I did, after all.¡±


    Oliver¡¯s pulse quickened. ¡°Left to go where? Somewhere here?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but it can do no harm in the awake world. And you are awake.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel awake.¡±


    ¡°You are.¡± Akki bowed. ¡°You are awake, and the nightmare has been staved off for now. I¡¯ll take my leave. Pleasantries.¡± She turned toward the sink and climbed inside, getting smaller as necessary for her to fit, and exited Oliver¡¯s kitchen the same way she¡¯d entered it, through the dreamcatcher¡¯s remaining weaves.


    The shadow man never returned.

 Naked in Public

    Lizzie entered the classroom fully clothed. She had a presentation due today and a partner who was a flake. She hoped he¡¯d actually show up. The last time she had a presentation, her partner had insisted on doing all the work, which she found annoying at the time. Now that she had a flakey one, she realized having an overachiever for a partner was better than the opposite side of the spectrum.


    She glanced at the desks. All Lizzie¡¯s classmates were present except her partner. She sat through the Pledge of Allegiance and the morning prayer, and she tugged at her uniform skirt through all the other presentations, only half-paying attention to all of them. Then came her and her partner¡¯s turn. She suddenly realized he wasn¡¯t marked absent, and in fact was now sitting at his desk.


    ¡°When did he get here?¡± whispered Lizzie. She could¡¯ve sworn he wasn¡¯t present for roll call. But whatever, she had a presentation to perform. She made her way up to the front of the classroom, resisting the urge to nervously tug at her skirt.


    Her partner went up there with her.


    It began fine. They introduced the topic and her partner started spewing facts and figures, holding up the board they¡¯d made for the visual section of the project. It came time for each of them to do their own speeches without referring to each other, and her partner went first.


    Half the class was dozing. Their topic wasn¡¯t an important one to most, if not all, of the student body.


    Her partner¡¯s speech section of the presentation ended, and it became time for Lizzie to talk.


    Her mind went blank.


    She tried to figure out what she was going to say, and a long silence stretched on and on.


    She just couldn¡¯t think of it.


    She was so unprepared!


    The class stared at her. All of them now, not just half or another small portion. All of them.


    Sure, she was messing up by not talking, but that didn¡¯t merit everyone staring wide-eyed at her. It especially didn¡¯t make it okay for the class clown in the back to point at Lizzie and start snickering.


    Lizzie, project forgotten, tried to tug at the hem of her skirt.


    It was gone.


    There was no hem. There was no skirt. There was no anything.


    She was naked in front of the whole class! Everyone whispered amongst themselves and the class clown got them all to make fun of the situation. Lizzie bit her lip and tried to cover herself with her arms, but there was no erasing what everyone had already seen. Tears welled up in her eyes and she screamed.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Then, at the back of the class, there was a woman with a rotting neck. She was fully clothed and carried a sword. Lizzie didn¡¯t know her, and the class didn¡¯t acknowledge her arrival.


    ¡°I am Akki,¡± said the woman. She walked down the center of the aisle, approaching Lizzie. ¡°Slayer of Nightmares.¡±


    Lizzie screamed again. She backed away, doing her best to cover herself while she retreated.


    Akki stopped her approach.


    ¡°I had clothes before,¡± said Lizzie. ¡°I had clothes on. Where¡¯d they go?¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Ah? What ah?¡±


    ¡°This nightmare is common.¡±


    ¡°Nightmare?¡±


    ¡°Were you not aware you¡¯re dreaming?¡±


    It took a second, but then the realization came alive in the dreamscape. The colors of the room sharpened and saturated. Lizzie¡¯s partner faded into the background as if he were in a photographer¡¯s lens being adjusted. The rest of the class alternated between being hyper-focused and hazy. Lizzie looked down at herself, still covering her chest and nether regions as best she could. It was surreal to look at herself now, know she was dreaming, and yet not wake up. She¡¯d never been lucid in the dreamscape before.


    ¡°Well that¡¯s a relief,¡± said Lizzie cautiously. ¡°But how do I wake up?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s solve the first problem first.¡± Akki inched a little closer. ¡°May I?¡±


    ¡°May you what?¡±


    ¡°Assist you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your neck?¡±


    Akki took a step backward. She brought her hands up to cover her neck. ¡°It¡¯s genetic and not contagious.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s gross.¡±


    ¡°I am well aware.¡± Akki bowed. ¡°Apologies. If you would rather I not help¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªNo, I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m really sorry. I just.¡± Lizzie had her arms covering her chest. She patted her own shoulders. ¡°I just need to fix this. Where are my clothes? Where¡¯d they go?¡±


    ¡°The dreamscape has many mysteries.¡±


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t know?¡±


    ¡°What I do know,¡± said Akki. ¡°Is you can create new clothes out of the dreamscape.¡± By demonstration, Akki put her arm out and made a pulling motion. There was a stretchy sort of invisible sensation against Lizzie¡¯s head as Akki moved, which stopped when Akki stopped. As Akki had pulled on the dreamscape, or whatever she¡¯d been doing that made Lizzie¡¯s head feel weird, a length of cloth had materialized from thin air and followed Akki¡¯s fingertips.


    The cloth resembled a robe. It looked soft and comfortable. It also happened to be Lizzie¡¯s favorite color: robin¡¯s egg blue.


    Akki caught it before it could hit the ground. She presented it to Lizzie.


    Lizzie tried to take the cloth gracefully but wound up snatching it. She clothed herself.


    Akki bowed and turned toward where she¡¯d entered the classroom, seeming to be about to leave.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Lizzie tied the clothing more snugly around herself. ¡°How¡¯d you do it? The pulling things out of thin air thing.¡±


    ¡°I decided to.¡± Akki spun back around, apparently choosing to indulge Lizzie. ¡°The dreamscape is malleable if you know how to manipulate it. In a way, it¡¯s like the waking world in that it¡¯s sometimes stubborn yet sometimes willing to yield. Each dreamer¡¯s dreamscape is different, and yours was willing to compromise.¡±


    ¡°You talk like the dreamscape is alive.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re alive. It¡¯s your dreamscape. Why would it not be?¡±


    ¡°I never thought of it like that.¡±


    Akki smiled.


    ¡°So are you going to go?¡±


    ¡°My job here is done unless you¡¯re still afraid.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°So my role in this dreamscape has ended.¡± With that, Akki dematerialized in the opposite sort of way that the clothing had materialized before. All that was left was one last comment echoing on the air. ¡°Pleasant dreams.¡±

 Teeth Falling Out

    Tristan stood at the sink and stared at his own face in the mirror. On a whim, he reached out to touch it, and its surface rippled like water. This didn¡¯t bother him. He didn¡¯t feel any way about it, just like he didn¡¯t feel any way about anything, standing there. His toothbrush poked out of the holder, white and teal. He grabbed it and spread toothpaste along its bristles, still unperturbed by the mirror rippling, and not feeling any way about anything. The toothbrush wriggled in his grip like a worm. It too had a sort of ripple about it, and so did the rest of the bathroom, and soon, maybe Tristan¡¯s own body.


    He lifted the toothbrush to his teeth, and that¡¯s when he started feeling something. Terror.


    It began with one tooth dislodged from the gumline, way in the back. When the toothbrush hit it, it rolled right out of place, bobbed down Tristan¡¯s tongue, and when he gagged, fell out of his mouth and into the sink. It was covered in blood. There was no pain, but Tristan groaned in disgust. If it was just one, maybe he would¡¯ve handled it better.


    But it wasn¡¯t just the one.


    Tristan stuck his finger in his mouth, fishing for the fresh hole. He found it easily, but when he tried to rub it to inspect the damage, he bumped the next couple of teeth. Under his touch, they loosened. It wasn¡¯t long before he had two or three more teeth rolling around along his tongue, tasting like rot.


    He spit them into the sink. He gasped, gaped, and almost repeated the mistake of probing his mouth, but the rational side of his brain stopped the instinct to staunch whatever was happening. He stood there staring at himself in the mirror, his toothbrush held in a fist, the rest of him tense in contrast to the numb, bizarre sensation of his mouth. There was no pain except that which his mind implied.


    His mind implied a lot.


    The teeth in the sink sat there. At some point he didn¡¯t remember, the toothbrush relinquished its existence of its own accord. His face in the mirror was making an expression that was one part ick and three parts fear. His mouth was agape, and so he had a good view of what happened next.


    The teeth that remained in his mouth wriggled this way and that, surreally wobbling as if to loosen themselves without Tristan¡¯s assistance.


    He couldn¡¯t help it. He screamed.


    The scream was raw and long, and the sound of it signaled the teeth to abandon the mouth completely. They all fell, one by one, into the sink, onto the counter, onto the floor¡ªone bounced off his toe¡ªand Tristan could do nothing more than wail.


    He needed his teeth. He needed them, because without them he couldn¡¯t have that politician¡¯s smile that won him attention from women. Who would like him now? No teeth meant no one, and that was torture. He needed people to like him. He needed that. He didn¡¯t have anything else to fall back on.


    Someone arrived.


    Tristan didn¡¯t notice her at first, but soon became aware of a presence behind him, between his back and the closed bathroom door. As soon as he realized he wasn¡¯t alone, he clamped his mouth shut and reduced his screaming to a small whimper, the best he could do to get a handle on it. When it came to dealing with other people, he always did his best to keep their needs above his own, because that was how you got friends instead of enemies.


    His teeth, his teeth.


    ¡°Are you aware you¡¯re dreaming?¡± asked the woman.


    Tristan spun around and accidentally slammed his elbow against the faucet. He was a big guy. Unlike his teeth falling out the first time, he felt the impact. He made a startled, pained noise and rubbed his elbow.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Oh god, her neck.


    The woman who stood before him wore slim-fitting, moveable clothing of a design that was unearthly, and her neck was something gory to be beheld. She also carried a sword. Her hair was blonde and extremely long, nearly all the way to the floor. Aside from her neck, she was beautiful.


    Tristan raised his gaze slightly.


    Oh god, her eyes.


    Her eyes were silver, and not just the iris. Her entire eye was silvery and reflective, resembling ancient mirrors or dinnerware scrubbed clear.


    ¡°I can make you aware you¡¯re dreaming,¡± she said. ¡°I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares.¡±


    Ghastly appearance above the neck, but a gorgeous voice. Athletic figure too.


    But his teeth.


    Akki tilted her head.


    Tristan couldn¡¯t explain himself due to his lack of teeth. He settled for a shrug. Then he pointed to the sink where most of the teeth had fallen.


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Akki. ¡°I¡¯m familiar. What are you compromising in the waking world?¡±


    Tristan scrunched his eyebrows.


    ¡°This dream is common.¡± Akki reached toward Tristan with one lithe, pretty hand. ¡°I can make you aware, if you¡¯ll let me.¡±


    Tristan flinched away. He looked at her neck because he couldn¡¯t help it. Her tendons were showing through.


    ¡°I won¡¯t hurt you,¡± said Akki softly.


    The room rippled. Akki lowered her hand and observed. Tristan shrank away from her.


    ¡°Despite appearances,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m here to help. All you need is to accept it.¡±


    Tristan would¡¯ve answered if he had any teeth left. He kept his mouth shut, afraid what else might fall out if he opened it. Surely his tongue was next.


    ¡°Really,¡± said Akki, again softly.


    Anyone would be reluctant of this. Tristan caught himself inching closer to her and stopped that quick. She¡¯d said it was a dream. Could it really be just a dream? The awareness of dreaming was a fickle thing, one that Tristan couldn¡¯t quite catch. But he had enough of his wits to consider the idea, and therefore became lucid.


    ¡°None of this is real,¡± said Tristan. It came out all wrong. With the way his syllables slurred, he wondered if he was comprehensible.


    ¡°That¡¯s almost right,¡± answered Akki. ¡°I can make it easier to understand if you¡¯ll let me. But you have to let me.¡±


    Tristan shook his head. He didn¡¯t let people help him. He helped himself after everyone else was taken care of. That¡¯s just how it was. Especially if the one whose needs were being put before his own was female.


    Akki stood there. It was awkward.


    ¡°Please,¡± she said after a long while, and bowed rather formally. ¡°Please let me help you. I insist.¡±


    Tristan considered it. The moment he considered it, one of his teeth grew back. The molars in the back pushed through the gums, and Tristan stretched his tongue wide at the back of his mouth to check if he were imagining them returning. They had returned and he needn¡¯t have checked, but it did make him feel better to know they were there. If only considering accepting help did that, then¡­


    ¡°Well it would be stupid not to,¡± said Tristan, now slightly more articulate.


    Akki gave him a closemouthed smile. She reached for him, and this time, Tristan took her hand.


    Immediately, the room warbled. With the warbling came even more of Tristan¡¯s teeth. They regrew in his mouth slowly but consistently until all were repaired. The teeth in the sink vanished as if they¡¯d never been there, and the ones on the floor too. That was all it took. Just one grasp of the hand. Along with the teeth repair came awareness that Tristan was dreaming, which made the experience less disturbing but also more disturbing because he had no idea who Akki was to him. He didn¡¯t know her when he was awake and had no idea how she¡¯d wandered into his dreams. Then again, he rarely remembered his dreams. Maybe they really did know each other on some other plane of existence. In any case, he was happy to have his teeth back.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Tristan because what else could you say?


    ¡°Glad to be of assistance,¡± said Akki with a slight bow. ¡°Are you now aware?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good. Are you still afraid?¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Then my role here is complete.¡±


    ¡°Stay.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Stay for a while. Explain this whole experience to me.¡±


    ¡°You want me to explain your own nightmare?¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s commonly a stress dream, to dream of one¡¯s teeth falling out, but it¡¯s also one that happens when compromises have overtaken someone¡¯s spirit.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know how to flirt, do you?¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Never mind. You say you slay nightmares?¡± Tristan indicated Akki¡¯s sword. ¡°Didn¡¯t take much to slay mine. You never drew your weapon.¡±


    ¡°That would¡¯ve been unnecessary.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°Apologies if it wasn¡¯t satisfactorily thrilling to you.¡±


    ¡°Aha! You can flirt.¡±


    Akki smiled. ¡°I must be going. There are other dreamers.¡±


    ¡°More than just me, huh?¡±


    Akki nodded.


    Tristan stared at her for a while. It was a nice view.


    A distant sound of screams shook Tristan out of his contentment. ¡°The fuck? Akki, I¡ª¡±


    But she was gone. He could only hope one day she¡¯d return.


    He awoke to the sound of his alarm.

 Attacked

    Natasha had taken the alleyway loads of times before without ever having a problem, but it was different tonight. It was a point of habit that she took long walks in the dark to clear her head, but normally she had a friend with her to share the misery. Tonight, she was alone. She¡¯d walked this route so many times that she hadn¡¯t a care for safety, and lost herself in daydreams as she listened to her boots clop along the pavement.


    The wind was brisk. She tugged her coat tighter and then cupped her hands to blow on them for warmth. It was then she saw something out of the corner of her eye, a thin tendril slightly bigger than a hair¡¯s strand reflecting the light off the streetlamp like a spider¡¯s web. Didn¡¯t spiders die in the winter? The tendril was barely visible, but it reached around the corner of the next building, and on a whim, Natasha wondered where it went. She didn¡¯t have anything better to do than investigate, so she followed the thin tendril of light around the bend.


    She didn¡¯t know it then, but that was her mistake.


    Around the corner, the tendril stretched from one building to the next, forming a knot with itself that hung over the alleyway. It glistened there under moonlight and streetlight, a translucent quality making it a marvel. At its center was an orb of light.


    Natasha came closer. Thinking that this just begged to be untangled, she reached out her hand to the knot, whose threads were now about as thick as her fingers. That¡¯s when it appeared.


    It was colossal, a good nine feet to Natasha¡¯s petite five foot frame, and it roared.


    She squealed and scrambled backward, tripping over herself to get out of its range, but it caught her. Its clutches molded around her arm, painfully squeezing, and she screamed.


    That¡¯s when the other one appeared. It was different than the first, shorter and human-shaped, and the first thing it did was slash at the first, freeing Natasha from the first¡¯s grasp.


    Natasha clumsily regained her footing and spun around to see a woman no older than her but with a majestic quality to the way she stood squaring off at the monster. The woman had absurdly long blonde hair and carried a sword. An actual sword, like she¡¯d walked off some battlefield. It was out of place in this alleyway after dark, but welcome to Natasha if the woman intended to help.


    ¡°What is that thing?¡± asked Natasha.


    ¡°A loose dream,¡± said the woman, who hadn¡¯t turned around. She had a calm voice. Her stance was that of a warrior. ¡°One I¡¯ve been summoned to defeat. I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares, and I thank you for alerting this to my attention.¡±


    ¡°Uh, yeah no proble¡ª¡±


    The thing launched an attack. It lurched at both of them, its body morphing into something out of a nightmare. That, or some horror-themed video game. It had claws and fangs and glowing red eyes, the whole deal, and it was fast.


    Quick, but Akki was quicker. She moved toward the thing instead of away, and managed to parry its blow. The impact against her sword made an unworldly bellow, and the source of the sound seemed to be the sword itself, not the thing she was fighting. And she could fight.


    She ducked and weaved and parried and stabbed, and the thing could gain no ground. It roared in ire and diverted its attention to Natasha, probably in the hopes she was an easier target. And the dreaded thing was that she was. Natasha had no martial training, and aside from lone walks, very little in her workout regimen. She was easy to catch, especially compared to Akki, who moved like lightning. But it was a good thing Akki moved like lightning, because it saved Natasha¡¯s ass.


    The thing growled and lurched, and again Akki got in the way. With a swish of her sword, she sliced off the thing¡¯s limb. The thing retreated back toward the glowing orb of light in the¡­ the¡­ tetherknots was the word that came to Natasha¡¯s mind even though she¡¯d never heard that phrase before in her life. The knots of translucent strings and strands was what it referred to, not the orb of light, and Natasha gained awareness of this immediately and randomly, as if the proper terminology was waiting just for the right moment to announce itself in her mind. But why? Maybe because she¡¯d touched it.


    That thought had come pretty randomly too.


    The thing¡¯s arm, the one that Akki dismembered, lie splattered and red on the pavement. Akki chased the thing as it backed off, thrusting her sword with precise movements, stab step, stab step stab, until the glow of the orb was blocked entirely by the thing¡¯s bulky body.


    ¡°Are you unharmed?¡± asked Akki.


    ¡°Y-yes.¡±


    ¡°Then I shall deal with this elsewhere.¡± Akki switched her stance, pivoting her sword, and with one final thrust she forced the thing into the orb of light within the tetherknots. The tethers themselves moved aside for the maneuver, and Natasha thought to herself¡ªagain, without intending to¡ªthat the tethers must¡¯ve moved because of something Akki did, as if they obeyed her. But that couldn¡¯t be right. But it felt right. But who could control the dreamweaves? Wait, dreamweaves? What the hell was a dreamweave?


    Somehow, looking at the tetherknots, the definition seemed self-explanatory. A synonym. Or no, a subset.


    Natasha wondered where she¡¯d learned all this, because she certainly wasn¡¯t awake when it happened. And even that came as random but correct knowledge. She¡¯d learned in her dreams. The issue was that she never remembered them.


    Was her dream one of the ones in that weave? Oh no, but she was awake. That¡¯s not how it worked.


    Anyway, the important thing was getting rid of the monster. The loose dream, as Akki had called it. There was a broken bottle also lying on the ground in the alleyway, and Natasha crouched to pick it up. Any weapon was better than none, she was sure, but she also didn¡¯t want to get in the way, so she held the bottle in both hands in front of her and stayed there, watching Akki work.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    Stab, swish, stab, swish, stab¡ªAkki was a master, that much was clear in the fluidity of her movement, the grace with which she held and directed the blade. The monster had bulk, but Akki had skill, skill that seemed to have been formed by eons of practice despite her physical appearance looking no more than twenty-five years of age.


    The monster roared again and ducked and pounced, but Akki was always ready with a counterattack. Soon she re-corralled the thing at sword-point right up to the light, where half of its body disappeared as if being swallowed by some portal beyond the tethers.


    Or one that the tethers formed, Natasha¡¯s brain corrected. Again, with no preamble.


    Natasha held the bottle. That was all she could do.


    ¡°Thank you for the assistance,¡± said Akki without turning around, though Natasha couldn¡¯t think of anything she¡¯d done but scream and stand awkwardly as Akki saved her.


    The strange thing was that Natasha wanted to fight. That wasn¡¯t a reaction to this circumstance that she ever could¡¯ve predicted, and it left her wondering who she really was deep down. She¡¯d never self-identified as a fighter in the slightest, so where was that impulse coming from now? People are different in their dreams.


    But she was awake. She was awake!


    ¡°Am I awake?¡± asked Natasha.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Akki between sword swings. ¡°You are.¡±


    ¡°Then how¡ª¡±


    ¡°This one escaped the Dreamscape.¡±


    At the mention of the term Dreamscape, Natasha¡¯s memories flooded back to her in flashes. Her meeting a similar nightmare in her dreams, her standing up to it instead of fleeing, her victory being congratulated by Akki, who at some point had arrived and introduced herself as Slayer of Nightmares.


    ¡°You¡¯d make a good slayer,¡± Akki had said in that dream.


    Then, another flash: a nightmare overpowering Natasha, her screaming as it tore into her own dreamscape, the hot pain of spiritual flesh being marred. That must¡¯ve been when it escaped. It must¡¯ve clawed its way out of my dreamscape somehow. But how?


    ¡°Dreams are malleable,¡± Akki had said back then. That explained how the nightmare now had little in the way of solid form, but it didn¡¯t explain how to beat it.


    Then again, it seemed Akki had that covered.


    Her sword, something about her sword. Natasha¡¯s memory failed to serve her this time, but she knew in her core that the sword could cut anything down to the astral. That¡¯s how it could cut the dreams. Wait, she was remembering something, yes. A dragon. She remembered the sword was also a dragon. That¡¯s why it bellowed as Akki fought. Battle cries. In the Dreamscape, it could take a draconic form. Natasha wondered if there were limits outside the Dreamscape that prevented the revelation of its true form, and the answer came to her automatically: yes and no. You can see it if you have the Sight.


    Natasha didn¡¯t have the Sight. Or maybe she did, because when she squinted at it just the right way, she could imagine a dragon flying the path of the blade, wings swiftly beating with every strike, parry, and blow.


    ¡°We shall meet again,¡± said Akki over her shoulder, and then she was gone through the light at the center of the dreamweave.


    Natasha put down the bottle.


    She didn¡¯t know whether to walk home or jump into the light herself, but the urge to untangle the tetherknots became unbearable, and so she encroached on the light with a healthy dose of caution. At her touch, the weave of tethers parted, and a tug at the back of her neck distracted her from the task. It was a subtle yanking sensation, barely there. She thought nothing of it and concentrated on unravelling the tethers. Once again, the sensation came, and Natasha discovered that one of the tethers in this knot was hers. It attached to her at the base of her neck. The place all tethers do.


    She stopped messing with it and walked home.


    That night, she dreamt of Akki, and she remembered. She remembered the first fright, remembered the arrival of Akki, remembered helping her fight back. She also remembered the kindness Akki showed, the graceful mastery of her maneuvers, the tenderness with which she asked, ¡°Are you unharmed?¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m fine, thanks.¡±


    But this time it was different. The Akki who showed up in Natasha¡¯s dreams wasn¡¯t the Akki she knew from previous encounters. This one was cold, hard, furious. This one attacked Natasha outright before the dream¡¯s atmosphere had even sunk in, and this Akki was ruthless.


    ¡°Why!¡± Natasha screamed, dodged, and screamed again. ¡°You were so nice before! What did I do?¡±


    ¡°Silence.¡± Akki launched another attack Natasha¡¯s way, an upward slash of her sword, and Natasha barely got away in time.


    The blade ripped open the front of her shirt but no further. Even so, it was enough to kick Natasha¡¯s adrenaline into high gear. She started moving faster, and because she remembered previous encounters, she remembered how to fight. She countered with a kick that didn¡¯t connect, and then bounced backward to regain her footing.


    Akki was too fast. She rushed Natasha before Natasha could fully recover her balance, and the only thing that saved Natasha was the sudden block of Akki¡¯s blade by another sword. An identical sword, black-bladed and roaring. At the hilt of that sword was another Akki¡¯s hand, and with the flick of a wrist, the parried blade was sent reeling backward. Akki stepped between Natasha and the other Akki, and it was at that point Natasha noticed the differences between them.


    The other Akki had a hunched way of standing, a scowl, and duller eyes. Its posture was all threat and barely any of the athletic finesse that the real Akki had in the way she stood. With the real Akki there, there was no confusing which was which, especially with the metallic gleam of the real Akki¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Apologies for tardiness,¡± said Akki¡ªthe real one. ¡°Are you unharmed?¡±


    ¡°Why is it you?¡± asked Natasha.


    ¡°A shifter,¡± said Akki. ¡°Bits and pieces of forgotten dreams. That¡¯s all it can do, pretend.¡±


    The other Akki snarled. A snarl didn¡¯t fit on the real Akki¡¯s face. She was too refined for such an ugly expression. Then the fake rushed forward with a flurry of sword swings, and Akki blocked them all, countering with quick sidesteps and lunges, using her whole body as if her blade was an extension of her arm. It was like dance in the way she moved, precise and fluid. Her sword struck true into the fake three times, one in the shoulder, one in the stomach, and one slash across the fake¡¯s right arm.


    The fake dropped its sword.


    Akki swiftly pinned the fake underneath herself, Akki¡¯s black blade tip at its throat. That was it. The fight was over. Yet still the thing struggled, writhing to find a position of advantage, but Akki gave no option to wriggle away.


    ¡°This ends here.¡± Akki delivered the finishing blow, a stab straight through the fake¡¯s neck. Then with no preamble, she got up and sheathed her sword. Then she bowed at the fake¡¯s body as if it had been a practice match.


    Natasha didn¡¯t understand that kind of gesture, given the circumstances. It wasn¡¯t as if the fake could reply.


    Akki turned to face Natasha and bowed again. ¡°It¡¯s over. I¡¯ve slayed your nightmare. Pleasant dreams.¡±


    ¡°Wait.¡±


    Akki waited.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Natasha. ¡°But I don¡¯t really understand what happened. How¡¯d it get out of the dreamworld before?¡±


    ¡°Ah, the same way I enter other people¡¯s dreams. Through the tetherknots.¡±


    Natasha cupped a hand at the back of her own neck in thought, and by the time she was finished pondering what Akki meant, Akki was gone, and so was the dream.

 Injured

    Jakub ran through the Crooked Forest, a place he often visited where the pines curved surreally, slanting away from the path and then up toward the sky. It was as if someone had placed a giant invisible bowl in the center of the path which bent the trees around its curvature. The wind was a slight breeze, and the wildlife chittered in the treetops, which were straight and tall, unlike the curvy bases of their trunks. No one knew why they grew that way.


    He rounded a bend in the path, expecting for his foot to plant itself on the pine needle bed as usual, when suddenly the earth fell away, bleeding an oily black as if someone had inked the canvas of the terrain with an upturned well. With no ground to step upon, the solidity of running was snatched away and replaced by an exhilarating drop through the inky darkness.


    He spent a long time falling, long enough so that he reached terminal velocity, and landed hard on his toes, then heels, then ass, then back, rolling with the impact to lessen the damage. Not that it mattered. Falling from such a height meant he had no way to prevent broken bones, which included toes, leg bones, his tailbone, and all his ribs. He lay there splattered like roadkill in the darkness, wondering how he¡¯d managed to survive at all. So stunned was he that he didn¡¯t have a mind to scream or call out for help until much later, at which point he bellowed with everything he had¡ªonly for his voice to be a pathetic whimper.


    Even so, she came. She was tall, blonde, and had something very wrong with her neck, but Jakub was too beside himself with pain to notice all those things, nor yet notice the silvery mirrored surfaces of her eyes, until she was leaning over him with an expression of concern. The ends of her hair tickled his face, and it was agony.


    ¡°I am Akki,¡± she told him. ¡°Slayer of Nightmares. No need to answer. I can see you¡¯re in that condition.¡±


    ¡°Help,¡± he muttered. It was all he could do.


    ¡°You¡¯re dreaming.¡±


    ¡°It hurts.¡±


    ¡°I can make you lucid.¡±


    ¡°Hurts.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not much more I can do than make you lucid. Healing is a matter of waiting. I could wake you, but then this nightmare might return.¡±


    ¡°Hurts! Hurts!¡±


    Akki found his hand and held it. ¡°Apologies, but I need to ask a favor. I need you to concentrate. Concentrate on where you were before, before the darkness of this place.¡±


    Jakub tried but couldn¡¯t do it. He started crying, which agitated his injuries, which made concentrating even more impossible. Akki ran her hand through his hair, and then her fingers went further, inside his scalp with a fuzzy sensation of intrusion, and Jakub then realized this was all a dream. Unfortunately, that didn¡¯t make all of the pain go away. It didn¡¯t heal him, but it made him calmer. Calm enough to answer.


    ¡°I was in the Crooked Forest,¡± said Jakub softly. ¡°Then this.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve never been.¡± Akki removed her hand from his scalp. She continued stroking his hair. ¡°If it¡¯s a forest, there might be something to use as splints. You¡¯re the dreamer here, and in more control than I am. You could return us to the Crooked Forest if you¡¯re not in too much pain to do so. Apologies, but I could only remove a little. All you need to do is concentrate on the forest and we might be transported.¡±


    ¡°Might be?¡±


    ¡°It works differently for every dreamer. This is the most common tactic. Concentrate on the setting and it appears. Travelling the dreamscape is intuitive that way.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± he croaked.


    He focused on the sensation of running, the breath and the motions, because to him those were the most instinctual and therefore the easiest to imagine. He¡¯d recently taken up running and it was freshest in his memory. Though his ribs ached with the effort, pain throbbing even through his chest and belly, the darkness around them shifted, color dripping into view like rain made of paint.


    ¡°Very good,¡± said Akki. ¡°Continue.¡±


    He imagined the path itself, the dirt and shed soft pine under the soles of his feet, and the sound of the river. More color made its way into the dream, dripping from nowhere and pooling to form the path on which he lay.


    ¡°Excellent.¡± Akki squeezed his hand. ¡°Now the trees.¡±


    He added curved trunks to the imagery, the sideways arches of the Crooked Forest, and they sprung into existence all around them, slithering up toward the sky.


    Akki released his hand and unsheathed her sword. Jakub heard it slide out of the sheath, smooth and deadly. Then she approached the closest tree. She had to jump to do so, but she hacked away at a straight branch, hop-slashing until the branch fell.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she told the tree before she brought the branch over to Jakub. After a measurement against his legs, she moved a little ways away and split the branch in two with her sword, which never seemed to dull. Jakub turned his head and watched her do it. The blackness of the blade seemed somehow deeper and bolder than the previous darkness of their surroundings. It was ominous, and he was glad it was on their side instead of whatever had caused him to fall. It wasn¡¯t long before Akki had fashioned the makings of a splint out of the tree branch, and she also pulled a cloth out of thin air for the wrappings. Jakub wondered why this miracle couldn¡¯t be applied to his own injuries and asked her. ¡°The surroundings of a dreamscape are more malleable than a person or anything else that¡¯s living, and while I may know first aid, I¡¯m no master healer. Apologies.¡±If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize for,¡± said Jakub. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Akki nodded, and made to the task of wrapping the splints. It was agonizing and hurt more than anything in Jakub¡¯s memory, and by the time it was done he was panting and crying at the same time, a miserable excuse for a person, and the thought had dawned on him that this might mean the end of his running career. He had to remind himself that he was dreaming and that all of this would likely go away upon waking. He hoped he hadn¡¯t sleepwalked or flailed in a way that hurt himself for real.


    ¡°There,¡± said Akki. ¡°All there is left is to wait. Unless you know the reason for this nightmare.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Often times, if one knows the reason for a nightmare, it can be slain.¡±


    ¡°All that happened was I was running and I tripped. It doesn¡¯t seem like the sort of thing that was brought on by anything. I¡¯m normally a good runner, mindful of the path, so I don¡¯t know why I tripped in the dreamscape, as you call it. Does being in a dream make people clumsier?¡±


    ¡°At times. But it can also make one more graceful. It depends on the dreamer and what their dream is.¡±


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know how I hurt myself so badly. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°Then maybe embarrassment is the issue. What are you embarrassed of in waking life?¡±


    Jakub didn¡¯t see how this discussion would heal him any faster, no matter what Akki claimed, and he didn¡¯t want to add an ego wound to the already painful physical ones, so he stayed quiet. But Akki stayed silent, and soon the waiting became unbearable.


    ¡°I lost a race,¡± said Jakub. ¡°Came in dead last. I¡¯d trained for weeks and I still failed.¡±


    ¡°That would be embarrassing.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be helping?¡±


    ¡°Apologies. Go on.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the embarrassing thing.¡±


    ¡°Then why does it bother you enough to conjure this nightmare?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Jakub winced. Talking hurt, but being silent hurt more because it made him focus on the pain. The conversation was a good distraction. ¡°I didn¡¯t take up running for me. I did it for a girl, and she was there. Winning.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    A breeze came through the forest, bringing with it the scent of pine. Jakub fidgeted. It sent fresh waves of pain through him and he gasped, unable to focus on the conversation any longer.


    ¡°Try to stay still,¡± said Akki. ¡°And tell me more about this girl.¡±


    ¡°Why does that matter?¡±


    ¡°Do you not want to tell me?¡±


    ¡°I just don¡¯t understand why it matters.¡±


    ¡°I suppose it doesn¡¯t, if that¡¯s your stance on it. I assumed there was something special about her. Was I erroneous in that assumption?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Then perhaps I should rephrase. What about her made you want to impress her more than running the race for yourself?¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a me versus her thing. It¡¯s a love thing.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Apologies.¡±


    ¡°Why do you apologize about everything?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a habit, I suppose. Does it bother you?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, maybe. I hate hearing women apologize. They¡¯ve usually got nothing to apologize for. It¡¯s like they¡¯re sorry for existing, and that¡¯s fucked up.¡±


    ¡°¡­I almost apologized for apologizing.¡±


    ¡°See? It¡¯s fucked up.¡±


    ¡°Are you sorry you ran the race?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡±


    ¡°The race. Because you embarrassed yourself, are you sorry you ran it?¡±


    ¡°Of course not.¡±


    At that, some of the pain receded. Jakub found he could wriggle his toes.


    ¡°Then the experience was worth the embarrassment?¡± asked Akki.


    ¡°Well, I did get to spend time with her.¡± Suddenly, his tailbone felt better. ¡°Or behind her. That came out wrong.¡±


    ¡°You must really love this mysterious woman.¡± Akki smirked. ¡°Why not focus on the time spent together instead of imagined slights.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t imagined. I lost the race. What if she thinks I¡¯m lame now?¡±


    ¡°I doubt that.¡±


    ¡°How come?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s unreasonable to think someone lame if they can run.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re missing my point.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    ¡°Obviously. It¡¯s lame to lose. And now I¡¯m afraid of losing her. I¡¯ve been dumped over less.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s how you think, then there¡¯s not much I can do for you.¡± Akki stood and stared down at him. It seemed to Jakub she was staring down her nose at him. Which was embarrassing. His toes started hurting again. ¡°Until you can have more reasonable expectations for yourself, I¡¯m afraid this nightmare might be impossible to slay.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re leaving me?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m standing. Waiting. Whatever made you trip might take a form I can damage. Although, based on what you¡¯ve told me, it might not. I¡¯ll wait and see.¡±


    ¡°You might be waiting a long time.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°I might not be worth the wait.¡±


    ¡°Why say something akin to that?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s true!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. Everyone gets injured at some point in their lives, and even more lose at something they¡¯ve tried. It doesn¡¯t make them any less valuable as people. Unless you think that way about others, don¡¯t apply that sort of defeatist thinking toward yourself. It amounts to self-torture. I would know.¡± There was a time when Akki berated herself for every little flaw, back when she was training to slay nightmares. ¡°It leads to nowhere.¡±


    There was a long pause which made Jakub antsy. He found the more he lay there, the more fidgety he became. His body hurt, but his mind wanted to do something. Energy with nowhere to direct it became added pain, and instead of letting it flatten him more, he got himself up off the ground by willpower. Akki put out an arm to steady him and smiled.


    ¡°Back on your feet. Good.¡±


    ¡°Better than lying there like an invalid.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the spirit!¡±


    The longer he stood in defiance of his pain, the less pain there was. He found he had control over his limbs too, despite not being able to move them only moments ago. A small part of him wondered if Akki were doing something to assist besides holding him up, but he didn¡¯t want to follow that thought-thread. It didn¡¯t particularly matter to Jakub how the pain had receded, only that it had.


    ¡°Now why not test your power over the dreamscape?¡±


    ¡°The same way as how I got us here?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    This time, held up by Akki¡¯s strong grip, Jakub imagined the woman he¡¯d fallen in love with. She swirled into view a foot down the path, weaving into existence from the soles of her feet all the way up to the crown of her head. She had the slight but enduring figure of a runner and wore nothing. Akki politely averted her gaze.


    ¡°A guy could get used to this,¡± said Jakub, and before he knew it, he was out of Akki¡¯s arms and into his love¡¯s, all that pain forgotten.


    Akki took her leave.

 Natural Disaster

    The only tip off that it was a dream came from the perspective being in two places at once. Otherwise, the vividness of the scenery would¡¯ve tricked Samantha into believing it was really happening. Even so, being lucid didn¡¯t matter in this case because the terrain was merciless regardless of what Samantha threw at it, and the landslide was eating up everything in its path. From above, it looked like the hillside became dislodged about a mile up the road, and the heavy rains these past few dream-weeks meant that all the soil was loose. Mud and rocks slid down the hill and demolished trees and other greenery in their path. There were cars parked on the road, or driving, and they too took damage thanks to the landslide. Some slid along with it for a while until they upturned. Others were simply buried in the rush of mud as it overcame them.


    From the perspective on the ground, Samantha watched the landslide eat up everything that was to the west of her location. It crushed the foundations of houses along the road, few and far between though they were, and sent them cascading downward as if they were ships on a current. The noise was an earthen, muffled crackle as the rocks and mud upended tree roots and concrete foundations, and the fall of the trees triggered more land to slide. There was no escaping it if you were in its path. Samantha thought she wasn¡¯t in its path until the perspective switched again to the eagle-eyed view.


    At first it had appeared that everything in the west was flowing northward, but in reality its whole trajectory was a swell both northward and eastward. It just so happened the northward end was faster.


    Which meant Samantha was in its path. The perspective jolted back to the ground, and she, realizing the danger she was in, took off running. She might¡¯ve known it was a dream thanks to being lucid, but that didn¡¯t change the fact that pain could be felt in the dreamscape, and that the dangers of a dream could be felt sometimes in the waking world¡ªas unexplained aches and pains, as unbridled fear, as paralysis and sleepwalking. So she ran.


    What she¡¯d tried to do before was stop the landslide¡¯s trajectory with manifested objects of great scope imagined into existence in its path, but seeing as even the houses were crumbling down the hills, that plan hadn¡¯t worked.


    For some reason, she thought of her waking life as she ran southward.


    A conversation between her and one of her friends:


    ¡°So how are things?¡±


    Things are terrible. I hid in the bathroom and cried my eyes out just now and it¡¯s a miracle my makeup is holding up. Guess it really is waterproof. ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear.¡±


    It¡¯s a lie. ¡°Yup.¡±


    The earth in the dreamscape trembled. It shook her footing and she almost tumbled to the ground but caught herself. A conversation she¡¯d had with her mother entered her head.


    ¡°So how was school?¡±


    My grades are in the shitter and I don¡¯t know if I can turn it around before the next term. I cried in the bathroom again, and nobody noticed. Then again, at the time, I was hiding. ¡°Fine.¡±


    The land became slippery in its orientation, a large chunk of earth lifting off the ground behind Samantha and forcing her onto a slope. She doubled her pace to escape it.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± she told herself in gasping breaths. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    The earth trembled and shook, a quake adding to the destruction of the landslide. With a landslide, she could conceive of attempting to stop or redirect its flow with those large objects she manifested from the dreamscape, but with an earthquake there was nothing she thought could be done besides flee.


    Again she thought of the bathroom. She hated it there, but then why¡¯d she return nearly every day to cry? It was an exercise in masochism, probably. But she was fine. She was fine!


    The earthquake got stronger, so strong that Samantha lost her footing and screamed as she fell flat then rolled along the ground, stones and debris biting into her skin as she skidded across the pavement.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Then there was a woman standing over her. A slender woman with absurdly long blonde hair who carried a sword. The woman helped Samantha up and introduced herself as Akki, Slayer of Nightmares, and Samantha couldn¡¯t help but wonder how anyone could slay a natural disaster.


    ¡°You can halt it if you know whence it came,¡± said Akki. ¡°What is it that¡¯s breaking your spirits?¡±


    ¡°My spirits? No wait, we don¡¯t have time for this. We have to keep moving.¡±


    No argument there. They ran together.


    ¡°If you can find what it is that began the quakes,¡± said Akki, who didn¡¯t seem to run out of breath as she ran, which was surprising given whatever was wrong with her neck. ¡°You might be able to calm them. What was it that upset you in your waking life? The thing you aren¡¯t addressing.¡±


    ¡°I told you we don¡¯t have time for this.¡±


    The earth opened up before them, and they had to grind to a stop. Now the destruction was on both sides and closing in fast, and Samantha couldn¡¯t see a way out of being overcome. It was all just too much. She collapsed to the ground, panting, and Akki stood over her, seeming to observe.


    The crumbling mass of earth that imploded in front of them sunk cars and mailboxes and soon houses into its depths but it wasn¡¯t traveling further, only deeper, and, looking over the edge, Samantha saw that at its bottom was the very bathroom in which she often cried. It was an overhead view, and she saw herself down there, curled up next to the toilet, sobbing. Of course the hole was big enough that that wasn¡¯t the only thing at the bottom, and the rest of the school formed itself around the bathroom, but Samantha focused on the stall where the other her sat in misery.


    It was dirty. She¡¯d been fucked somewhere dirty.


    ¡°But I¡¯m fine now,¡± she whispered to herself. ¡°It¡¯s over and no one found out.¡±


    Akki knelt by her. A hurtle of a shake in the earth jolted them both forward, and Akki had to snatch at Samantha¡¯s shirt to keep her from falling in. They scrambled backward.


    ¡°I doubt you¡¯re fine based on the state of this dreamscape,¡± said Akki. ¡°What happened down there?¡±


    ¡°Nothi¡ª¡± The ground quaked again and Samantha shut her mouth. She and Akki splayed on the ground to keep from being uprooted. After a long while listening to the landslide behind them and gazing at the drop below, Samantha sighed. ¡°It¡¯s me, isn¡¯t it? The reason for all this destruction?¡±


    ¡°A person¡¯s dreamscape does reflect who they are,¡± said Akki. ¡°Or who they were, or will be, or hope or fear to be.¡±


    ¡°Something did happen in that bathroom. I just haven¡¯t talked about it.¡±


    This time, the earth didn¡¯t move any more than it already had.


    ¡°So that¡¯s it? All I have to do is keep quiet? Not say I¡¯m fine when I¡¯m not?¡± It seemed too simple to Samantha, but Akki nodded.


    ¡°Perhaps that will stop further damage,¡± said Akki. ¡°But I doubt it¡¯ll fix what¡¯s already been broken.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d ask how to fix what¡¯s already been done, but it¡¯s unfixable.¡±


    Everything darkened as a storm cloud rolled into the dreamscape¡¯s sky from the south. It looked large and angry, and lightning dashed inside its depths. There was no rain, only thunderous anticipation of when lightning would strike.


    ¡°Now what,¡± said Samantha, exasperated.


    ¡°I have a suggestion.¡± Akki got up to her knees and peered at the foreboding clouds. ¡°If saying you¡¯re fine when you¡¯re not makes it worse, and keeping quiet has brought us this soon-to-be storm, perhaps saying how you really feel would dispel some of the nightmare.¡±


    ¡°That seems too simple.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes important things are simple.¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Samantha got up with Akki¡¯s help and groaned. ¡°I hope this doesn¡¯t make it any worse.¡±


    The clouds hovered over them ominously.


    ¡°Well?¡±


    ¡°I was¡­¡± Now that she¡¯d decided to do it, the words didn¡¯t seem to come. ¡°I was in the bathroom when it happened. I don¡¯t know why I keep revisiting that stall. You¡¯d think I¡¯d avoid it.¡± The fact she hadn¡¯t told anyone gave her a clue about her own behavior. Maybe she revisited the scene of the crime because deep down she needed to, and without talking about it, reliving it was her only option. So maybe Akki had a point. ¡°The guy, he wasn¡¯t supposed to be in the girl¡¯s bathroom, but he was there, waiting. Maybe not for me, maybe for someone else. But he was there, and he made quick work of shoving me in that stall and¡­ and¡­¡±


    ¡°Taking advantage?¡± asked Akki.


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it. It hurt. It hurt a lot. And I couldn¡¯t scream for some reason. For some reason, I just let him. That¡¯s why I haven¡¯t told anyone. I didn¡¯t even know the guy. He must¡¯ve been from another year. When he was done, he zipped up his pants and just left me there.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I haven¡¯t said anything to anyone. It¡¯s like I¡¯m scared of it, but I don¡¯t know the reason for being afraid when I¡¯m not the one who did anything wrong. Unless maybe I think I did do something wrong. But I don¡¯t know what that was, if I did. It just feels wrong to talk. I don¡¯t even know his name.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter whether you know his name. What matters is what he did is doing this,¡± Akki gestured to the dreamscape and then the bathroom at the bottom of the opened earth. ¡°To you.¡±


    The storm hadn¡¯t gotten worse. The ground hadn¡¯t quaked. The landslide hadn¡¯t found them in its path as Samantha had spoken.


    ¡°Nothing can change the past,¡± said Akki. ¡°But how one deals with it is up to them, and sometimes a person with a friendly ear can do more than exchange pleasantries. There¡¯s no shame in needing help. Or wanting it. Keeping blocked off tends to be worse than letting out the truth. If you¡¯ll let me, I can be that friendly ear.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let you.¡±


    For the next six months, Samantha met Akki in the dreamscape night after night, until the landslide and earthquake¡¯s destruction was blanketed with new growth and the storm clouds ceased to visit.

 Home Burning Down

    If Aurora could redo it, she¡¯d never have left her scarf drooped over the heater. The house was small, snug, and it was home. It was all her fault she no longer had it. Just one little careless act had led to the whole house being up in flames. Now the incident haunted her dreams.


    She came home as usual, kicking off her boots in the hall, and then unraveled the scarf¡ªit was red¡ªfrom her neck and tossed it, not caring where it landed. She was glad to be home after a long day at work (which was at a clothing store) and let the warmth of indoors envelop her with a sigh. The rest of the evening was spent on dinner and television, and she¡¯d fallen asleep on the couch earlier than usual.


    The scarf had landed on the space heater that ran perpetually during the colder months, and near that space heater were curtains for the window, and near those were other flammable items tossed about. So it wasn¡¯t just one careless act but a multitude, and a lot of the reason the place went up in flames had to do with poor housekeeping, but it was the scarf that served as the catalyst.


    The scarf caught fire first, then it spread up to the curtains, and from there the whole house filled with smoke and blaze, and Aurora was still asleep on the couch. It was lucky she started coughing, because it woke her. Otherwise, who knows how long she would¡¯ve lasted. The fire was too big by then to try and contain or stop, and she was overheating and coughing and disoriented from falling asleep on the couch instead of her bed. She got up, hacking, and squinted around, trying to see through the wavering heat mirages and smoke. Her lungs filled with gook and it became difficult to breathe. She crawled her way on her elbows past the ablaze television display and made her way painstakingly to the kitchen, where cooking cloths, oven mitts, and other items were already scorched beyond recognition. Aurora got off her elbows and knees and looked for a possible escape route. The kitchen window was no good because there were too many flames around it. Panicked, she ran to the front door, but that was on fire too, smoldering with crackling licks of it, far too hot to touch.


    She couldn¡¯t scream. Her throat wouldn¡¯t let her.


    She tried the door and immediately jumped back in alarm. The door handle was far too hot to touch, and she felt nauseated looking down at her hands. She shook them around as if that would do anything, but she was too far gone to be logical. The house didn¡¯t have an upstairs, so she ran into her bedroom down the hall, hoping the fire hadn¡¯t spread that far. But it had.


    She ducked through her doorway, thankfully not up in flames, and encountered even more walls of fire between herself and the window. Coughing, she backed back into the hall, covering her mouth with her sleeve. She batted at the air as if that would clear it, but the effort was too little too late. The smoke was already affecting her lungs. Breathing hurt, inhaling was scratchy and uneven, and exhaling became a chore. She suddenly found herself very aware of her own panting and of the heat all through her body. She took one inhale and then croaked out a single word.


    ¡°Help,¡± she managed to say.


    The scenery warped, and not in the way that fire creates mirages. The air cleared in a single spot in the hall, and out of that clean, safe space walked a woman with long blonde hair wearing clothing not of Aurora¡¯s time or place. The smoke immediately refilled the space, and the woman put her arm up to cover her own face. She didn¡¯t introduce herself, only pointed down the hall toward the front door. Aurora couldn¡¯t get the words out to tell the woman she¡¯d already tried that, and wound up behind her being yanked by the arm.


    When they reached the door, the woman didn¡¯t bother trying the doorknob. Instead, she raised her leg and kicked, over and over, until the bolts on the door gave way. Then she shouldered her way through it, still dragging Aurora behind her. It didn¡¯t appear the woman got even the slightest bit singed by all this, but Aurora was glad for the help. It was help she hadn¡¯t had when the house burnt down for real.


    For real?


    As she stepped outside and jogged behind the woman, Aurora became aware of all the differences between this time and the last time she¡¯d been inside the burning house. The route she¡¯d taken to get free of the flames had been different, for one thing, and the last time she hadn¡¯t had any help. The start of the fire and the falling asleep on the couch were the same, but the littler details betrayed the fact that it wasn¡¯t the same fire, or at least hadn¡¯t happened in the same way.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°I am Akki,¡± said the woman once they were safely away from the burning house. ¡°Slayer of Nightmares. And I¡¯m sorry, but I cannot change a memory.¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m dreaming?¡± It felt too real to be a dream. The heat was too hot. The smoke in Aurora¡¯s lungs still pained her when she spoke. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel like a drea¡ªwhat¡¯s wrong with your neck?!¡±


    Akki brought a hand up to cover her rotting flesh. ¡°Nothing contagious.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not why I asked.¡±


    ¡°You are dreaming.¡± Akki blew over Aurora¡¯s disturbance about her neck and the subject was dropped. ¡°But dreams formed from memories are stronger than those that happen on their own. The most I could do was provide an escape route. I couldn¡¯t change what happened, nor could you.¡±


    ¡°So if it was just some random fire, not based on a memory, I could¡¯ve stopped it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    They stood there a long moment. Aurora turned back to face her home burning down. ¡°So there¡¯s nothing you can do?¡±


    ¡°No. It already happened, did it not?¡±


    ¡°It did. And it was all my fault. If I hadn¡¯t been so careless. If I hadn¡¯t tossed my stupid scarf on that stupid heater, and maybe if the heater wasn¡¯t going all the time then nothing bad would¡¯ve happened.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s not much to do about it now, though.¡±


    ¡°I know. But I wish there were.¡±


    ¡°Be careful using that word.¡±


    ¡°What word?¡±


    ¡°Never mind.¡± Akki didn¡¯t explain herself and switched subjects. ¡°Much like I can¡¯t fix the fire, there¡¯s not much else I can do here. Apologies, but I¡¯m out of my scope.¡±


    ¡°Your scope? Slayer of Nightmares scope?¡±


    ¡°Yes. This is no nightmare, as nightmarish as it is. It¡¯s a memory and those I can¡¯t change. More than that, I won¡¯t change them. It would cause too much damage to the dreamer.¡±


    ¡°A moral and a practical reason, then.¡± Aurora sighed. ¡°Nothing to be done then. Can¡¯t change the past.¡±


    ¡°But you are breathing easier now,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°I am. The truth is, this happened when I was just out of college. It¡¯s been a few years. I thought that was why the details didn¡¯t match up, but really it was just dreams being dreams. It¡¯s so weird being in a dream and knowing it is one. How do you manage that?¡±


    ¡°It comes with the territory.¡±


    Aurora sat down on the ground and focused on her breathing. It was a technique her therapist had taught her to calm down, and if there was nothing to be done about the memory, she could at least breathe easier through it. She counted to five on her inhales and to seven on her exhales, pausing slightly between them.


    ¡°We¡¯re out of danger and the nightmare has yet to end,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°I sat here for a while when it really happened. The EMT didn¡¯t arrive until the rest of the house collapsed. Guess it¡¯s the same in dream-land.¡±


    ¡°I call it the dreamscape,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Either way.¡± It was at that moment that Aurora noticed Akki carried a sword. The detail had been glossed over in the rush to get out of the house. ¡°Is that what you slay nightmares with?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes. Other times it¡¯s like this, without a monster to strike.¡±


    Aurora looked at her burning house. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m the monster.¡±


    Akki laid a hand on her shoulder. Aurora shrugged it off.


    ¡°Do you have a home in the waking world now?¡± asked Akki. She pointed at the house. ¡°Besides this one, of course.¡±


    ¡°Oh, of course,¡± said Aurora snidely. The tone left as soon as it arrived. ¡°Yes. But it¡¯s not the same. This was the house I grew up in. The apartment I¡¯m living in now isn¡¯t nearly the same. It¡¯s smaller, really cramped, and I¡¯m on the second floor so I hear my neighbors above me.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps that resentment is why this event still haunts you.¡±


    Aurora didn¡¯t have a response for that.


    ¡°Only a theory.¡± Akki sat on the ground beside her. The way she sat was more formal, on her haunches with a straight back, unlike Aurora¡¯s cross-legged position. ¡°And I suppose in this case, theories don¡¯t mean much.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Aurora. ¡°They don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Is there anything I can do?¡±


    ¡°No. There isn¡¯t. You said so yourself.¡±


    The silence stretched for eons. With no way to help, Akki became statuesque, a formally posed meditation on uselessness.


    ¡°For the record,¡± said Aurora. ¡°I wish you could help.¡±


    ¡°Be careful with that word.¡±


    ¡°What? Wish?¡±


    ¡°Yes. One who hunts me listens for it, and if she hears it, that¡¯s when she strikes. I imagine the only reason she¡¯s not here yet is this is the dreamscape, a place of the mind, and the mind is the only space she cannot enter.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you worried? I mean, if she can¡¯t be here anyway.¡±


    ¡°Habit, I suppose. A good habit, in this case.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡±


    ¡°Most don¡¯t. Most aren¡¯t hunted by her, and can use their language as they please.¡±


    Aurora stared back at her burning house. The roof had collapsed inwardly, and the walls were aflame and roasting. The blaze cast long shadows in the night. Ambulance sirens sounded and drew nearer.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s the sound of help arriving.¡± Akki turned her head to face the noise.


    ¡°Arriving too late,¡± said Aurora.


    ¡°You have your life, in any case.¡±


    Aurora sighed. It took effort not to punch Akki in the face. Sometimes, forcibly looking on the bright side made things worse. Aurora wanted to wallow.


    ¡°I hope fortune treats you well from now on.¡± Akki got up off the ground and bowed. The red lights of the ambulance cast her visage in a harsh way, and the gruesomeness of her neck became highlighted. ¡°Apologies for not being of service sooner.¡±


    ¡°Whatever.¡±


    There was nothing more to say, and the sirens punctuated Akki¡¯s exit.


    Once she was gone, Aurora wept as she¡¯d done when the fire happened for real.

 Sinking

    Jayden often knew he was dreaming, but this time he lost all sense of himself. It had to be the book. Before he had the book, none of this weird shit ever happened. He marched toward Frank¡¯s Secondhand Bookshop, a quaint place full of stacks, where he happened to work, with every intention of giving back the book. Just putting it on a shelf and forgetting it ever existed. But before he could get there, the pavement stuck to his boots¡ªnice, sturdy combat boots in black with studs¡ªand Jayden found himself sinking as if he¡¯d walked into quicksand.


    Forgetting the book for the moment, he yanked himself out of the pit of pavement-sand and inspected his boots, which looked perfectly fine as if nothing ever happened. Jayden chalked it up to being more weird book bullshit and kept on going into the bookshop. When he grabbed the handle to go into the shop, it melted hotly over his grip. He pulled his hand back, letting go, and with a furrowed brow looked down at his palm.


    The melty door handle sloped down his wrist, where he had a spikey black leather wristband that he really didn¡¯t want to get ruined. He shook his hand to whip the door remnants off then kicked open the door. Determined to place the book back on the back shelf where he¡¯d first discovered it, he entered the bookshop with a fiery disposition. He wasn¡¯t in the mood to deal with customers or coworkers, so he adopted his trademark threatening scowl and traversed the shop as if on a mission. Which he was. Angie could deal with the book. It was almost her turn anyway, and the shelf was in the back of the shop away from customers, so the only thing to worry about would be Frank or another employee touching it.


    With every step, it became more difficult to keep up his strides, and finally, instead of continuing to look forward, Jayden looked down. The floor was suctioning to his boot-soles like sticky gum. It attached itself and wouldn¡¯t let go no matter how forcefully Jayden pulled his foot upward. He felt the strain at the top of his feet where the leather stretched, and cursed out loud. Giving one final kick, he wrenched his foot out of the floor tile and jogged the next couple steps to avoid falling over.


    ¡°Jayden,¡± said Angie, who was at the register and looking positively pissed. She was a brunette and wore blue leggings with hearts printed all over them under her brown dress. The ensemble would look odd on anyone else, but she pulled it off. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re putting that back.¡±


    ¡°Can it, Angie. It¡¯s almost your turn.¡±


    ¡°Almost isn¡¯t actually.¡±


    They were lucky there weren¡¯t any customers around, because the way they glared at each other could wither anyone.


    ¡°Gimme a break,¡± said Jayden, relenting first. ¡°I can¡¯t take it anymore. Really.¡±


    Angie¡¯s shoulders sagged. All the argumentative fire drained out of her at once.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Jayden.


    ¡°Fine.¡± Angie gestured to the back, where the shelf would be. ¡°You owe me lunch or something for this.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Jayden continued his march through the shop and placed the book back on the shelf with a sigh of relief. ¡°No funny business,¡± he told the book. ¡°I mean it.¡±


    The book sat there, looking agonizingly normal.


    Jayden turned around, took one step, and found himself sinking again. This time he called out, and the strangest thing happened: he actually got help.


    She arrived in a flash, all long limbs and grace, and grabbed Jayden by the wrist before the floor could swallow him up.


    ¡°What the fuck!¡± Jayden grabbed hold of her arm. ¡°I put it back! I¡¯m not touching it!¡±


    The woman who¡¯d arrived doubled her efforts and yanked him out of the sinking pit. They scrambled¡ªor more accurately, Jayden scrambled while the woman elegantly sidestepped¡ªand avoided being sucked under.


    ¡°Touching what?¡± asked the woman.


    ¡°The¡ªhold up, who are you? Not that I¡¯m not thankful.¡±


    ¡°I am Akki, Slayer of Nightmares.¡±


    Jayden snapped his right fingers and pointed at her in recognition. ¡°Then I don¡¯t even mind not knowing how you got here, unless you came out of the book.¡±


    ¡°A book?¡±


    ¡°The book. I¡¯m not touching it, so how is this happening?¡± He widened his arms at the floor where the sinking pit still remained.


    ¡°Are you aware you¡¯re dreaming?¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯m not dreaming. This has to be more of that book¡¯s bullshit.¡±


    Akki straightened. She spun around, seeming to try and get her bearings.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know about the book, do you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Well don¡¯t touch it, whatever you do. See that one on the shelf?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the one to avoid.¡±


    ¡°Many thanks.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°The warning.¡±


    ¡°Oh uh, no problem. Anyway, dreams? I¡¯m dreaming?¡±


    ¡°Most likely.¡± Akki closed her eyes and took a deep breath, then stood silent and still for a while. ¡°Yes. You are.¡±


    ¡°So this isn¡¯t book shit after all.¡±


    ¡°It would seem not.¡± Akki tilted her head, and Jayden got a nice horrendous view of something very wrong there. He swallowed his comment. She¡¯d helped him, after all. And if this wasn¡¯t the book¡¯s fault, then it was probably in her jurisdiction. Slayer of Nightmares, huh? That must be an interesting gig. He noticed she carried a sword. ¡°What is it about this book that bothers you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s haunted.¡± No use mincing words. The kind of haunting was still yet to be discovered. He and Angie had had a time of it trying to figure out what was really going on for a while, and the best they could come up with after weeks of research was a curse or a haunting. ¡°Or cursed. We don¡¯t know what. We just know it¡¯s bad. Makes you live out your worst fears, or it used to, at the start.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡± Akki seemed about to elaborate, then shut her mouth. She grabbed Jayden by the arm and pulled him toward her, and when Jayden looked back, he saw the floor turning quicksand again. ¡°It would seem this book of yours isn¡¯t your true nightmare.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s surprising. And it¡¯s not my book. Trust me, it¡¯s not anyone¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°The sinking, that¡¯s what vexes you.¡±


    ¡°I like keeping my feet.¡± Jayden backed up, nearly into Akki, and kept backing up until she backed up too. His gaze was on the book. Some part of him still thought it was all that thing¡¯s fault, because everything weird that happened seemed fitting to blame on it.


    Akki cleared her throat.


    ¡°So if you slay nightmares,¡± said Jayden. ¡°Any chance you could do something about the haunted book too?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t haunted.¡±


    ¡°The fuck you know that?¡±


    ¡°I, as all vitalians do, have the Sight. If it were haunted, I would be able to see the spirit attached to it.¡±


    Distracted by the book talk, Jayden didn¡¯t notice the floor suctioning to his boots again until it was too late to step out of it. He cursed under his breath and pulled his foot up almost to a full tuck position, and the floor stretched around it like gum, tugging him back down. ¡°Maybe I should go shoeless.¡±


    Akki told him to raise his foot again, and when he did, she made quick work of slashing the stretchy bits of floor away. Jayden fell back but caught himself with the kind of fast footing only an athlete has.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°This book,¡± said Akki. ¡°It¡¯s from the waking world?¡±


    ¡°If you mean when I¡¯m awake, yeah. People kept returning it to the shop. I work here.¡±


    ¡°A disturbing item you can¡¯t get rid of?¡±


    ¡°Basically, but add the horror movie factor times eleven. I¡¯ve seen some weird shit from that thing. Old¡­ memories. Well, flashbacks. Except they weren¡¯t mine.¡±


    ¡°Then whose were they?¡±


    ¡°My best friend¡¯s. He¡¯s dead.¡±


    Akki¡¯s attention seemed divided between the floor and the book. Maybe she was trying to figure out if the phenomena were related. As far as Jayden was concerned, they had to be. It occurred to him he was blaming everything on the book these days, but that came with the territory, whatever the book¡¯s true territory was. The thing was evil.


    The span of sinking floor widened, forcing Jayden and Akki back. They nearly ran into a shelf full of normal books in the history section, and Jayden tried to copy Akki¡¯s sidestep to avoid a display of discount novels. He fumbled it and wound up with one foot in the tile that had turned quicksand. Cursing, feeling himself freaking out with a hot flash of adrenaline, he reached out toward Akki, and she yanked him by the arm. This time, the effort was fruitless, the floor sucking Jayden down harsher than before, as if a clamp had latched around his ankle. He cursed again, louder.


    Normally, if he were awake and this was really happening, Angie would¡¯ve come running by now. Unless she too had gotten into some deep trouble. Jayden glanced at the register. Except there was no register anymore, and Angie was nowhere to be found.


    Akki grabbed his other arm.


    ¡°It¡¯s got me,¡± Jayden said. ¡°Got me pretty good. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s gonna let go this time. You should save yourself.¡±


    ¡°Unacceptable,¡± said Akki, and pulled harder, hard enough to pop Jayden¡¯s joints.


    But it was no use. Akki¡¯s grip slipped and she went careening backward into the discount book display. Novels got knocked to the floor and swallowed by the quicksand, and Jayden sunk up to his waist. Pretty soon he¡¯d have to take a deep breath to make sure he had air if he got sucked completely under.


    ¡°What is it,¡± asked Akki after righting herself. ¡°What is it that¡¯s out of control in the waking world? The book?¡±


    ¡°The book and everything else in my life.¡± Jayden stopped struggling against the quicksand, too afraid to agitate whatever it was that was pulling him under. ¡°Lately nothing goes my way, but I don¡¯t see how that and this are related.¡±


    ¡°In the dreamscape, everything from the waking world tends to be related.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying if I figure out the reason for this nightmare, it goes away?¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡±


    ¡°Then I call bullshit on your methods. I¡¯m still sinking.¡± Jayden¡¯s breath came panicked and fast. ¡°Shit, I¡¯m still sinking. Couldn¡¯t someone just wake me up? In the real world, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Mastery of the dreamscape would mean you could wake yourself, but it takes practice.¡± Akki reached out for him again. ¡°And time we seem not to have.¡±


    Jayden grabbed her arms, thankful for the help even though he thought it was probably useless, given the track record. ¡°But theoretically I could wake myself.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then teach me how. I¡¯m a quick study, especially in a jam.¡±


    Akki yanked on his arms. Once again, no use. Her voice lowered. ¡°You must let go of the images of the dreamscape and picture a void, an expanse of nothingness, and a tether.¡±


    ¡°A tether?¡±


    ¡°A silver cord extending from you toward the abyss.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I think I got it.¡±


    ¡°Close your eyes.¡±


    ¡°Hell no.¡± Jayden sank a little further. ¡°Fuck it. Fine.¡± He closed his eyes.


    ¡°Now follow the tether to a source of light. It should be at the end of a long dark.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, got it.¡± Jayden mimed pulling a rope. The floor stopped rising around him. Akki stepped back to give him room and watched as he tugged himself higher out of the quicksand. An invisible force assisted him, which Akki knew to be his own tether. ¡°Just keep walking, then?¡±


    ¡°At some point you should see your own body, asleep. Settle back into it and will yourself to rise.¡±


    ¡°Just lie down inside myself, huh?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    Jayden licked his lips and swallowed. He heaved himself up and out of the quicksand and then kept walking, picturing the abyss and the tether as Akki instructed. At some point, he realized he was no longer panicked. Amazing what some direction can do. He found his body in his room, slouched not on his bed but on the floor with his back to the bed, and the book was in his left hand. Settling back into himself, he felt silly and wondered fleetingly if this would even work, but he tried anyway. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes.


    The perspective switched in a nauseating manner, and he jolted awake, scrambling away from the bed and the book, gasping. His heart was pounding and he was sweating up a storm, but he was awake. And alive, and not sinking.


    ¡°I did it! Holy shit, I did it! Akki, I¡ª¡±


    But she was gone.


    Jayden ran his hand down his face and stared at the book. It sat innocently on his bedroom floor, as if in mockery of all that had happened. ¡°She seems like someone we could use right about now. I¡¯ll have to find a way to thank her too.¡±


    His cell rang, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Calming down with one deep breath, he dug the phone out of a pile of dirty, punk laundry.


    ¡°Where are you?¡± asked Angie, her voice resolute. ¡°It¡¯s my turn.¡±

 Loved One Dying

    ¡°I am Akki, Slayer of¡ª¡±


    ¡°I know who you are,¡± said Angie. ¡°Jayden told me.¡±


    Jayden was lying on the ground, wearing a red flannel shirt and black leather everything else. His hair was dyed green. Angie stood over him, and despite her best efforts she was crying. Jayden wasn¡¯t just lying there relaxing. He was collapsed and dying. His skin was pale, and his breath was short and gasping, and four long gashes ran down him, from left shoulder to right hip. He was bleeding out.


    The terrain was a hiking trail in the middle of the woods. A red moon loomed overhead through the canopy, and the oak trees swayed in an eerie breeze. A wolf¡¯s howl broke the silence of the night.


    Angie twitched to attention. ¡°The wolf. The wolf got him. You can fix him, right?¡±


    Akki drew her blade. She eyed Jayden and didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m Angie. Jayden told me you could help if ever I had a nightmare. This qualifies.¡±


    ¡°I would imagine so,¡± said Akki. ¡°But the damage has already been done.¡± She motioned with her arm, and out of nowhere, a large cloth bandage appeared. She caught it before it fell to the ground. ¡°That said, I can at least do this to stop the bleeding.¡±


    They spent a long time getting Jayden to sit upright and not flop back to the ground. It seemed to Angie they spent even longer fashioning the bandage in its proper place around him.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with your neck?¡± asked Angie, halfway through the task, because she¡¯d seen the ugliness of Akki¡¯s rotting flesh there. ¡°Why don¡¯t you bandage it?¡±


    ¡°This is the dreamscape, and I appear as I would in spirit. The damage runs that deep. In the waking world, it is bandaged, so to speak.¡±


    The woods darkened around them, and another wolf¡¯s howl sounded. This one seemed closer, louder.


    ¡°What if there¡¯s more than one of them?¡± asked Angie as she adjusted her grip on Jayden. ¡°Wolves run in packs.¡±


    ¡°That they do, but we must focus on the task at hand.¡±


    When they were finished, Jayden was on the ground again, bandaged, and Angie was panting. She couldn¡¯t tell if it were due to exertion or fear. Yet another wolf¡¯s howl rang, a long way off.


    ¡°That¡¯s three,¡± said Angie. ¡°So far.¡±


    ¡°Do you fear the wolves?¡±


    ¡°Who wouldn¡¯t? But I¡¯m more afraid for Jayden. You think he¡¯ll make it through? If this is a dream, why can¡¯t it just erase itself? Turn time backwards so it didn¡¯t happen in the first place?¡±


    ¡°An image, once in one¡¯s mind, tends to stick. But you are the dreamer and have the most power here. If you can command it with your mind, you could theoretically reverse time here.¡±


    Angie tried. She concentrated and focused and did all manner of things to get it to work, but it didn¡¯t. ¡°I don¡¯t know why it¡¯s not working.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s difficult,¡± said Akki. ¡°More difficult than many people are aware. Even for vitalians such as myself, manipulating the dreamscape takes time and effort. Don¡¯t be too hard on yourself for not being able to turn the imagery backwards.¡±


    ¡°But it would¡¯ve helped Jayden. He¡¯s still¡­¡± Angie leaned down, putting her ear by Jayden¡¯s mouth. ¡°Still breathing, but it¡¯s shallow. How¡¯d wolves end up in my dream anyway?¡±


    ¡°You said you feared them. Fears, like wolves, can run in packs. They compound on each other. A fear of being overrun can combine with a fear of being injured, for example. It seems that¡¯s similar to what happened here.¡±


    Another howl sounded, this one much closer than the others. Angie threw herself over Jayden, shielding him with her own body, on instinct alone. So close to him, her body responded with a pounding heart and a chilly sweat, the dread of losing him threatening to overwhelm her before the wolves could even get to them. She clenched her eyes shut and willed the wolves to go away, to leave the dream, but she was answered by another howl, far to the left. That settled it. They were being surrounded by fangs and claws. Danger was everywhere, just like wolves in real life.


    In real life, Angie found wolves and their behavior fascinating. Maybe that¡¯s why she couldn¡¯t get them out of her subconscious.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Angie turned pleading eyes on Akki. ¡°I¡¯ve been trying, but I can¡¯t get rid of them.¡±


    ¡°We cannot flee, not with Jayden in the condition he¡¯s in, so we fight.¡± Akki drew the sword at her hip. Its blade was black, and a hunger emanated from it as if it had a life all its own.


    ¡°It¡¯s gonna be okay, Jayden.¡± Angie was crying harder now. She didn¡¯t have a single fighter¡¯s bone in her body. She¡¯d spent most of her life running from her problems or complaining them away, not facing them head on. ¡°God, I hope it¡¯s gonna be okay.¡±


    Jayden groaned but didn¡¯t wake.


    A growl sounded closer than any of the howls. It came from the underbrush of the trees to the left. Its voice was deep and menacing. Rustles in the leaves sounded like static. The wind blew harder and a chill befell Angie. She thought of all the times Jayden had smiled, laughed, helped her out at the bookshop where they both worked. He was the one who¡¯d gotten her that job, and aside from a few creepy encounters, it was a good gig. It wasn¡¯t fair that he was lying here dying now, dream or not. What was worse was Angie couldn¡¯t help him. She felt useless.


    ¡°Come on, Jayden.¡± Angie¡¯s voice was a shrill whisper. ¡°You can pull through. I don¡¯t know what else to do but beg for you to come back.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± said Akki.


    A wolf walked out of the trees. It hunched its back, hackles raised, and bared its teeth at Akki. That one had come from the front, but there were more. They all exited the tree line and circled around Akki, Jayden, and Angie, displaying that the humans were surrounded.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna die,¡± squeaked Angie. She stayed down, grasping Jayden with all her might. ¡°Jayden, get up.¡±


    ¡°I c-can¡¯t,¡± said Jayden. ¡°Not with you laying on me.¡±Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Angie put her hands next to Jayden¡¯s face and lifted herself off of him. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±


    ¡°Barely. Why¡¯s everything hurt?¡±


    ¡°The wolves. They got you.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s wolves?¡± He twisted his neck around. ¡°There are wolves.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t overexert yourself,¡± said Akki. ¡°You¡¯re still gravely wounded.¡±


    ¡°But we have to get out of h¡ªow!¡±


    ¡°Stay down.¡± Akki flourished her blade. ¡°I shall handle the wolves.¡±


    The first wolf leapt into action. It came at Akki full speed from the front, teeth showing, snarling. She batted it aside with more strength than someone of her physique should¡¯ve had. A phantom claw, much larger than the wolves¡¯, formed itself around the black blade, seeming to be an extension of the sword itself. The next wolf came from behind. Akki spun around and batted that one aside as well. It yelped and hit the ground on its side, then scrambled up and away back into the trees. The third wolf had been at Akki¡¯s flank and now circled around to her back, but Akki kept turning, pivoting with expertly precise footwork, so the wolf couldn¡¯t come at her from a blind spot. Eventually, the wolf grew impatient and attacked from the front. Akki stabbed instead of batted this time, and her sword struck true through the wolf¡¯s neck. She grunted with effort and twisted. The wolf fell.


    One of them howled from behind her, and she turned to face the sound. Angie and Jayden were in the way. Akki stepped over them to act as cover and glanced back just once, giving Angie a speculative look.


    ¡°I¡¯m not causing this, am I?¡± asked Angie.


    ¡°We¡¯re surrounded, aren¡¯t we,¡± said Jayden. He started to push himself up, made an expression of agony, and fell back down. ¡°Shit. I really can¡¯t move.¡±


    ¡°Stay down,¡± repeated Akki.


    The wolves had scattered back into the woods, but one stood before Akki, its canine visage somehow wary. It was a brown wolf, and had a scar over its right eye. Not a scar from Akki. It didn¡¯t howl again. It just stood there.


    ¡°Seriously, what are we supposed to do?¡± asked Angie. ¡°If this is my dream and I have the power or whatever, then how do I use that?¡±


    ¡°You must focus.¡± Akki stood at the ready, sword out and pointed straight towards the wolf. ¡°Focus on what you can change. The easiest thing to influence in a dreamscape is the terrain. Can you imagine it being a different place?¡±


    Angie made a frustrated noise. ¡°What place? And what if the wolves come with?¡±


    ¡°Steady,¡± said Jayden, wincing. ¡°Don¡¯t make it any worse.¡±


    Angie stared down at him. He was putting on a good front, but the fact was he was bleeding through the bandages. His chest rose and fell in quick little bursts, not the even, healthy breathing patterns Angie was used to seeing in him. She took his hand. She had to try and help. Terrified, she forced herself to close her eyes and kept Jayden¡¯s hand in hers, squeezing.


    She imagined the bookshop. It wasn¡¯t a conscious decision, just the first one that popped into her head. She saw in her mind¡¯s eye the checkout where she usually stood, the rows of wooden bookshelves stuffed with reading material, the comics section to the right of her cashier¡¯s section. She focused on the display of fifty cent bookmarks next to the register until they were in perfect clarity in her mind. Hemingway and Mark Twain quotes stared back at her.


    A wolf barked. Angie opened her eyes.


    The setting had changed. They were in the bookshop now, with Angie leaning over Jayden behind the register, looking at receipt paper stacked underneath the table where customers couldn¡¯t see. Akki was near the comic section, and in front of the Ninja Turtles display was the brown wolf.


    ¡°Very good,¡± said Akki with true pride.


    ¡°Great,¡± said Angie. ¡°I brought the wolf here too.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be too sure,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡±


    The wolf growled.


    ¡°Jayden¡¯s injuries aren¡¯t typical of a wolf attack.¡±


    ¡°It happened too fast for me to see,¡± said Angie.


    ¡°Precisely. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a wolf.¡±


    The wolf lowered its head menacingly. Its bulk grew, hackles raised, and it transformed before them, limbs extending, teeth growing longer, snout pulling back further to reveal a snarling maw of death. Its eyes turned red, and its ears bent backwards in a show of aggression. It became a hulking figure, more bipedal than anything, and its front paws grew longer claws.


    ¡°A werewolf,¡± said Angie breathlessly. ¡°How¡¯d I get one of those in my nightmare? Too many movies?¡±


    ¡°It must be a symbol important to you.¡± Akki stood guard between them and the werewolf, sword ready. ¡°Which is likely why it¡¯s still here. Do you sense or see or hear any other wolves?¡±


    Angie considered. Nope. The rest of them all felt like they¡¯d left. She didn¡¯t know why or how she knew that, but she did know it. With absolute certainty. Funny how dream logic works that way, that you can know without definitive proof that something is or isn¡¯t there.


    The werewolf launched into an attack. It lunged at Akki and swung its massive arm toward her ankles.


    She danced out of the way but didn¡¯t counter.


    Jayden flinched. ¡°Angie you gotta leave me. I¡¯m not gonna make it.¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    Jayden flinched again. He repeated his exact words.


    ¡°I told you, no!¡± Angie pressed him down and stayed with him. ¡°I¡¯m not going to lose you. You¡¯re stuck with me and I¡¯m stuck with you and we¡¯re both going to get out of this just fine. Somehow.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Ah? What, ah?¡±


    ¡°Your nightmare isn¡¯t of wolves. It¡¯s of losing him.¡±


    ¡°Well, duh! In real life I love wolves.¡±


    ¡°Then the path is clear,¡± said Akki.


    The werewolf snarled and paced back and forth territorially. It tilted its head every which way, seeming to try and sniff out a weak spot in Akki¡¯s defenses.


    ¡°You cover him and I shall slay the wolf.¡±


    ¡°No arguments here.¡± Even though she said that, Angie wasn¡¯t sure Akki would be able to do away with something so large and monstrous. But if her job was to cover Jayden, she¡¯d cover Jayden.


    Jayden flinched and began repeating his words again. It was like her dream had put him on repeat.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± said Angie. ¡°Let us protect you.¡±


    Akki and the werewolf circled each other. Akki didn¡¯t allow it too close, so it turned out to be more a half-circle than anything, and Angie splayed herself across Jayden, listening to his heartbeat, listening to him repeat himself. She took a breath, and before she could exhale the battle had begun again.


    The werewolf came at Akki¡¯s flank this time, and she spun out of the way quicker than Angie had ever seen anyone move before. The way she positioned herself was refined, every superfluous movement skipped so that only the essentials remained. Akki got behind the wolf and slashed at its tail, but it scrambled out of the way and rebounded, leaping at her. She ducked, dove, and rolled somehow without cutting into herself or any of the book displays, and was up on her feet in no time. She faced the werewolf and danced forward, jutting her sword out with stabs every step, in order to herd the werewolf back away from Jayden and Angie. Akki¡¯s maneuver succeeded, and soon the werewolf was up on two feet, its back against the display of Young Adult novels, and the bookshelf that carried them was wobbling, threatening to fall over.


    ¡°Mind the merchandise,¡± said Angie automatically, then hated herself for being so retail-trained.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Akki as if it were a normal conversation. She moved in and the werewolf tried to back up but couldn¡¯t because the books were in the way. Akki put her sword at its throat. ¡°Leave this dreamscape. Leave, and I shall spare you.¡±


    The werewolf whimpered.


    Akki stared.


    With one final chuff of its throat, the werewolf wriggled sideways out from under Akki¡¯s blade and scampered down a nearby aisle. Angie felt it leave the dream in a shimmer of senses that suddenly made her feel lightheaded. She flopped further down on Jayden.


    ¡°It¡¯s gone,¡± said Angie.


    Jayden wasn¡¯t moving.


    ¡°Jayden,¡± repeated Angie. ¡°It¡¯s gone. Hey.¡±


    He still wasn¡¯t moving. Angie pressed herself up to look at his face. It was pale. She couldn¡¯t tell if he were breathing. She put her ear to his chest and couldn¡¯t hear his heart.


    ¡°No,¡± said Angie. ¡°No no no no no. Get up! Jayden, come on! Up! Breathe!¡±


    Akki sheathed her sword. She came and knelt by Jayden¡¯s head, an expression of concern on her face. She reached out but Angie turned on her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t! Whatever you¡¯re gonna do, wait!¡±


    ¡°I was going to assist,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°Right. Sorry. I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡±


    Akki put a hand on Jayden¡¯s shoulder. ¡°He isn¡¯t breathing, is he?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Angie started CPR, cursing with every compression. ¡°Fuck. Shit. Hell. Damnit.¡±


    After eons, Angie stopped. It hadn¡¯t worked.


    ¡°Why,¡± she said, crying. ¡°Why is it that whenever I find something I like it¡¯s wrenched from me? What could the universe possibly be trying to teach me here?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Akki. ¡°It¡¯s not the universe.¡±


    Angie sat on her haunches and watched Jayden¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Akki rose and came over to put a hand on Angie¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I don¡¯t have the answers.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t have the answers then why are you here?¡±


    ¡°You called me. I heard the scream. A vitalian answers the call.¡±


    They sat there, watching, together yet alone.

 Betrayed

    Oriana Nesbitt kept a Tarot deck next to her pillow when she slept. She didn¡¯t have any crystals or salt, nor protective oils, just the deck. It sat in the dark without even a touch of moonlight next to her head, loose, no cloth bag or wrap of silk to appease it. The night the issue started, The Moon card was at the top of the deck. She¡¯d had a date that went well earlier that evening, and dreamt of the man. His name was Daemyn, and he¡¯d been the pinnacle of gentleman during their restaurant outing. He¡¯d even brought roses.


    The dream began under a half-moon, and the restaurant¡¯s windows made prisms of rainbow light on the floors. There were no other lights except those of the sky. Daemyn sat in the chair across from Oriana as he had earlier that evening, and his face was a sculpture of shadow. He said nothing. There was wine on the table, and he sipped. His fingers curled around the glass looked pale in comparison to real life, and there was a sound, a ringing, as he drank.


    Oriana didn¡¯t know what to say. It seemed Daemyn was looking past her, though she couldn¡¯t see his eyes. Behind her, she heard a door open. It creaked on rusty hinges, sounding like wood even though in the real world, the entrance had been made of glass.


    When Oriana turned, intent on seeing what Daemyn had his attention fixed on, there was nothing there. Nothing but the open door. The moon was gone, and in its place was a starless sky. Clouds thundered with whiskers of lightening, a precursor to what Daemyn said next.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want you.¡±


    Oriana turned around. His face was fully illuminated, and he wore a smile like a salesman.


    ¡°I only want the chase,¡± he said.


    Then the dream ended. Next to her head, The Moon card had flipped off the top of the deck and was staring up at her. Both canines on the card, a wolf and a dog, seemed to have their fur ruffled. It made Oriana feel embarrassed. She swept up the card and replaced it at the top of the deck, then went about the rest of her day.


    She got five texts from Daemyn, and everything seemed normal. She texted back apprehensively, but nothing ill ever came of it. In fact, they set up their next date: a movie.


    It was a horror flick, which both of them agreed on because neither enjoyed romance. The choice of genre delighted Daemyn, and he paid for the popcorn, snacks, and tickets. On top of that, they had a wonderful time afterward discussing the director¡¯s choices for the monsters, pacing, and jump scares. At the end of the night, Daemyn dropped Oriana off at home with a kiss and a snug hug, and Oriana closed the door feeling as though everything about her life had finally fit into the perfect container.


    But then the doubt set in. Oriana paced around her house, analyzing every syllable of what was said during the date, looking for clues as to Daemyn¡¯s true intentions. The dream loomed in her psyche, a shadow deep like his face had been in the dream, foreboding every nuance. So Oriana turned to her Tarot deck. Without casting any protection, no circle, no calling of the corners, nothing of the sort, she sat cross-legged on the carpeted floor of her bedroom, Tarot deck in hand, and began to shuffle.


    In order to shuffle correctly, one must do it seven times in a riffle shuffle, to randomize the cards, then cut the deck in thirds to align the cosmic energy. Oriana simply shuffled a couple times hand over hand and pulled the card at the top of the deck, asking out loud what Daemyn¡¯s true motivations were with her.


    Two of Cups.


    The Two of Cups is known as the relationship card. It¡¯s a card of true love, of romantic and other emotional partnerships, and when upright indicates that everything is going well. An equal give and take, either in friendship or in romance. But the little white booklet that came with the deck, which Oriana had open on the floor before her, said only this about the card: partnerships.


    ¡°Partnerships?¡± Oriana flipped the page in the booklet. There was no other detail besides a tiny black and white picture of the card itself. ¡°That¡¯s it? What kind of partnerships?¡±


    At that moment, with Oriana¡¯s hand tilted just so, the top card fell off the top of the deck and landed inverted on the floor. She didn¡¯t see it. It was the Hight Priestess.


    She collected her cards and put them back on her bed, wondering what to make of the reading.


    Another dream visited that night, featuring Daemyn. It began with a winding staircase unlike any Oriana had traversed while awake, going on and on and on, which ended at a single black door. The handle was red. She opened the door, her hand stinging at the touch of the knob, to find a room with only a bed. The bed had satin red sheets and Daemyn hunched under them in a position of obvious intercourse with somebody below him.


    Oriana awoke suddenly but without a sense of alarm, which was surprising given the content of the dream. She inhaled, feeling the breath in her lungs, and turned over to face her Tarot deck. The cards were splayed face down, not stacked in a neat pile as they had been before she slept, and in the center of the pile was The Devil card, face up. Oddly, she wasn¡¯t fearful of the card. She felt it was trying to tell her something. So she reorganized the deck into its neat little pile, turned on a light, and consulted the little white booklet. All it said under the entry for The Devil was: evil.


    She looked at the card itself. At its center was a man with the head and legs of a beast, an inverted pentagram about its forehead, bat wings stretching out from its back. Horns. To either side was a man and a woman, respectively, both naked with tinier horns on their heads, and both loosely chained to the throne on which the central figure sat. The star on the forehead and the looseness of the chains stood out to Oriana, but she couldn¡¯t discern why. On the cusp of her hearing, she heard a faint whisper, so soft as to be indetectable to the naked ear but loud enough to not be her imagination. She couldn¡¯t make out the words, only the intention, and the intention was to warn her. Though of what, she couldn¡¯t be sure.


    She put the card back in the deck and went back to bed. Sleep came easily, but for the rest of that night she had no more dreams. In the morning, the deck was stacked as she¡¯d left it, neatly.


    The next date they had together was at an art museum. It was a medium-sized venue, painted all white to display the art more vibrantly, and she and Daemyn walked the wandering halls arm in arm. Oriana was tense. She couldn¡¯t forget the dream of him being on top of someone.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked Daemyn.


    ¡°Hmm? Nothing. Nothing.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound like nothing.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Um. How¡­ I mean, why¡­¡±


    ¡°Spit it out, you goof.¡±


    ¡°Why do you like me?¡±


    Daemyn stopped short.


    ¡°I mean.¡± Oriana pulled her arm out of his. A large painting, larger than either of them, of splattered, mixed paint loomed behind them. It was mostly blue and red. ¡°It just doesn¡¯t make sense for you to be so nice to me.¡±


    ¡°Yes it does. Why wouldn¡¯t I be? I love you, Oriana.¡±


    Oriana balked. Wasn¡¯t this too soon? They¡¯d only been on a couple dates, after all. This was red flag material if ever she¡¯d witnessed it.


    ¡°Look,¡± said Daemyn. ¡°Life¡¯s short. I like you. I thought you liked me. I¡¯m man enough to know when I¡¯m falling for someone. We like a lot of the same things too. It¡¯s turning out perfect so far. Why not just roll with it?¡±


    That night, Oriana consulted her cards. She closed her eyes when she shuffled, not focusing on any question except the rising sense of anxiety in her chest and what it might mean, the flutter of the air as it jittered down her throat into her lungs, the way her heart beat unevenly, at times too fast and at others too slow, and the name Daemyn, Daemyn, Daemyn. Then, with one deep, unexpected yogic breath, Oriana stopped shuffling. It was as if she and her surroundings had before been off-kilter and now were in total balance. She was in the exact right place at the exact right time, and there in that blissful pause was her answer.


    She flipped over the top card. It was The Lovers. Putting that face-up on the carpet, she instinctively drew the next card. It was The Moon.


    The reading was over. She knew it the way she knew how to breathe. The reading was over.


    The cards sat plainly.


    She flipped through her little white booklet. The Lovers: a lover. The Moon: secrets.


    Little white booklet pinched in her fingers, Oriana stared past it at the cards.


    ¡°A secret lover?¡±


    Her gaze fell on the domesticated dog on the card. It stayed there. She didn¡¯t know why. Dogs made her think of loyalty and friendship, and these concepts lingered in her mind as long as she stared at the little dog. It was howling at the moon. Its tail was upright, might be wagging. Happiness. The howl too, was another clue. For Oriana, it made her think of companionship, always knowing one howl would be answered by another. Energized serenity, an emotion Oriana had never before felt, swelled from her core outward until she was enveloped in it. The phantom sound of a howl cleared her mind of all else, and the tune of it moved throughout her whole body until it matched the envelopment of that serene, energized knowing. This was more than loyalty. This was dedication rooted in the understanding that the whole pack would always be together, no matter how small or large it was, no matter the distance between each member.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    This confused Oriana. The definition of secrets from the little white booklet and her impressions didn¡¯t match.


    Hesitantly, she put her deck away. In bed, she pondered.


    The bed in the dream had different sheets than her own. Silken, red, rippling under her touch, Oriana found herself naked upon them, luxuriating in the smoothness that caressed her skin. Compelled by an impulse she didn¡¯t understand, she rose and left the room. At the doorway, she glanced back. It wasn¡¯t her room. It was larger and less furnished, the bed being the centerpiece. No mess or clothes on the white-carpeted floor, no large standing mirror. An open window let in the cool nightly air. Stars hung like nooses beyond the sill.


    She stood there, naked and alone.


    Her heart beat with a hollow distortion.


    Then Daemyn was entering the room, moving past her. A figure in shadow sprawled backward on the bed. Oriana couldn¡¯t see any details beyond that it was female in shape and had its legs open, ready.


    Daemyn accepted the offer with vigor and laughter, and Oriana stood in that frame of the doorway an outsider, unnoticed. She covered herself with her hands as best she could, wracked by sudden shame. They on the bed moved faster, throbbing and twisting in ecstasy, their moans a song of joy. When they climaxed, Oriana screamed.


    It was an anguished scream, not one of terror, but nonetheless it was answered.


    A woman appeared before Oriana, her hair an absurdly long blonde curtain that billowed, her pale skin a contrast to the mess of fleshy grotesque scarring that was her neck. She had eyes like mirrors and bowed upon entering the scene.


    ¡°I am Akki,¡± she said. ¡°Slayer of Nightmares.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± said Oriana. She didn¡¯t know what else to say, but the fact she¡¯d screamed and someone showed up, unlike all the other times in her life, felt novel. She didn¡¯t know what to do with it. ¡°Um. Thanks for coming.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± Akki turned around. ¡°Ah. He¡¯s an interest of yours, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Akki tilted her head. She crossed her arms. There was a sword at her side, belted to her snug, moveable clothing. The designs of both were not of the human world, a graceful intricacy seldom found.


    Oriana had the urge to shove her forward. To make her do something about this. But Oriana was also too meek to act on it. She stood there and fidgeted.


    Akki didn¡¯t advance.


    Oriana waited while heat swelled in her chest. Adrenaline and anger mixed with shame.


    ¡°What scares you about this?¡± Akki turned back around to face Oriana.


    ¡°That should be obvious!¡±


    Akki made a contemplative noise. Her arms remained crossed. On her, it was a pensive pose.


    ¡°I can just tell it¡¯s going to happen soon,¡± said Oriana. ¡°And I don¡¯t want it to.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Why not!¡±


    Akki tilted her head and raised her eyebrows, her expression twitched towards amusement.


    ¡°It¡¯s a betrayal,¡± said Oriana. ¡°That¡¯s why!¡±


    Akki glanced over her left shoulder. Daemyn and the female figure were still going at it. They¡¯d begun again after the first climax, slowly at first and now gaining speed. Their noise escalated, but in the dream it took on the essence of a background sound. Akki¡¯s words were far louder. Closer. ¡°You¡¯re misunderstanding. What is it you see?¡±


    Then Oriana woke up. A frown pulled on her face. ¡°Misunderstanding what?¡±


    The clock on her nightstand read 3:33 AM.


    She didn¡¯t want to go back to sleep.


    She grabbed her Tarot cards.


    No matter how many times or in how many ways she shuffled, she only pulled The Moon inverted.


    Her little white booklet didn¡¯t have the meanings for when the cards show up upside down. When staring at the card provided no insight, she went back to bed.


    The next morning, she met up with Daemyn, and he brought her coffee. It was her favorite blend, and she had no idea how he¡¯d learned what that was.


    ¡°Lucky guess,¡± he explained.


    ¡°A good one,¡± said Oriana, breathing in the steam. She took a sip. Perfect, especially after a crap night¡¯s sleep. Her mind spiraled to the dream, the Tarot.


    ¡°You okay?¡± Daemyn sipped his drink, his hair mussed in that attractively lazy way, his eyes searching hers.


    ¡°I had a dream last night. About us.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± A smile showed behind the lip of the cup. His eyebrows waggled. ¡°Tell me more.¡±


    ¡°Are you cheating on me?¡±


    He choked on his beverage.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± said Oriana. ¡°Sorry, I shouldn¡¯t accuse.¡±


    ¡°The fuck is this coming from?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. Sorry. The dream really bothered me.¡± She didn¡¯t tell him that she¡¯d sometimes had dreams that came true, or that she¡¯d done a reading to interpret it. In fact, she kept her divinatory interests private on purpose. She didn¡¯t want people thinking she was crazy. ¡°It was a nightmare.¡±


    ¡°Nightmares aren¡¯t real,¡± he said with fervor. ¡°And I¡¯d never cheat on you.¡±


    His tone was absolute, no allowances for doubt or argument.


    They finished their drinks in silence.


    Her next Tarot reading involved the deck once again throwing The Moon inverted at her. When she tried to clarify what that meant, leaving the card on the floor while she shuffled to find another, the Seven of Cups appeared. She consulted the little white booklet, finding only that The Moon still meant secrets and that the Seven of Cups meant options.


    ¡°Secret options,¡± she said to herself, trying to remember what her question had been. She¡¯d been thinking about Daemyn and her roundabout accusation. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s considering other options? Besides me?¡± Contemplating the cards, she felt very confused. It was as if the Seven of Cups amplified the feeling, but even with that amplification she didn¡¯t know from where the confusion had originally sprung. The way she¡¯d laid out the spread, the silhouette of the man in the Seven of Cups had his back to her and The Moon card. To Oriana, it looked like he was seeking elsewhere, and she couldn¡¯t keep herself from spiraling back into the mindset that Daemyn resembled the silhouette. Even so, a magnetic sensation kept pulling her attention back to The Moon inverted. Her gaze lingered there. The imagery of the moon itself on the card was hypnotic, fixed, and she could almost hear the illustrated waves splashing against the river shore.


    She heard her own voice in her ear, clear as if she¡¯d spoken out loud to herself, except she hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°Fixation makes stagnant waters.¡±


    She had no idea what that meant.


    She was spooked. She put her cards away.


    In the middle of the night, she called Daemyn. He answered on the first ring.


    ¡°You seriously weren¡¯t lying when you told me you¡¯d never cheat?¡± asked Oriana.


    ¡°I seriously wasn¡¯t lying.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯ve got options around you. Besides me.¡±


    ¡°Where are you getting this?¡±


    ¡°I just know, okay. I can¡¯t explain it.¡±


    ¡°Oriana, you¡¯re acting paranoid. There¡¯s no one else.¡±


    ¡°But I know it. I know there¡¯s someone else!¡±


    ¡°No you don¡¯t. You had a dream, that¡¯s it. A dream is a dream is a dream. Nothing more to it than your brain rearranging itself. Did you have another one? Is that why you¡¯re calling me at his ungodly hour?¡±


    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t have another one.¡±


    ¡°Then what brought this on? I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing to convince you I¡¯m so unfaithful.¡±


    Confusion is accurate, said Oriana¡¯s mindvoice, abruptly and without invitation.


    ¡°Are you going to clue me in or not?¡± said Daemyn.


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you how I know. I just know.¡±


    ¡°Then we have a problem. I¡¯m not going to let you jerk me around like this. I like you, Oriana. Maybe even love you. Or I thought I did. Now you¡¯re freaking me out and it¡¯s unfair.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m psychic,¡± Oriana blurted.


    The pause contained only a sigh.


    Oriana wanted to wrangle those words back into her mouth. She¡¯d never openly admitted anything of the sort to anyone before.


    ¡°So let me get this straight,¡± said Daemyn. ¡°You¡¯re psychic, and you just know that I¡¯m some douche who would cheat on you? I got this right?¡±


    Oriana couldn¡¯t get herself to speak. All that came out of her mouth were squeaks.


    ¡°I can¡¯t fucking believe this,¡± said Daemyn. His tone became wistful, forlorn. ¡°I really thought you were the one.¡±


    ¡°Daemyn,¡± said Oriana, but she couldn¡¯t get herself to say any more. Pleading begged to be let loose off her tongue. It was conquered by shame.


    ¡°No.¡± Daemyn exhaled sharply. ¡°I¡¯m done. I¡¯m not putting up with this bullshit. For the record, I¡¯ve been faithful, never cheated a goddamn day in my life on anyone, including you. Anything you just know about me is baseless. Goodbye.¡±


    He hung up.


    No one had ever hung up on Oriana before. She cried.


    In her dream, she saw the feminine form beneath Daemyn. Akki was also there. As Daemyn and the woman reached crescendo, Akki led Oriana to the side of the bed. She had to yank. Oriana didn¡¯t want to go, didn¡¯t want to see the details of the act. She even closed her eyes, which did absolutely nothing in the dream to cloud her vision. She saw them pulsating, embracing, kissing intertwined. She wanted nothing to do with it. But her sight wouldn¡¯t quit.


    ¡°Look past him,¡± said Akki. ¡°Look who he¡¯s with.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter who he¡¯s with,¡± said Oriana. ¡°It¡¯s over.¡±


    The woman moaned. It sounded familiar to Oriana, which made the whole thing more disgusting, but she couldn¡¯t place where she¡¯d heard it.


    ¡°Really look,¡± said Akki. ¡°You won¡¯t be confused anymore.¡±


    ¡°Confusion isn¡¯t the problem.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if I know the culprit now. I can¡¯t prevent it from happening.¡±


    ¡°If you look closer, you might not want to prevent it.¡±


    Oriana wanted to throttle her.


    ¡°Please,¡± said Akki, and moved aside.


    Oriana hated this dream. She wanted it to end. She thought maybe if she humored Akki, it would. So Oriana looked.


    Beneath Daemyn was another Oriana, thoroughly enjoying herself. No wonder she¡¯d recognized the moan. The difference was in real life she¡¯d only ever expressed it with herself. But not here. Here Daemyn was tending to every part of her. He was gentle and graceful and powerful. He caressed as much as he pinned. He was slow and sensual after every bout of thrusts. He both fucked and made love.


    The Oriana watching fell to her knees. Level with the other her¡¯s face, she saw the joy there, the release. The slowly delivered, satisfied sigh. Daemyn¡¯s gruff exhalation was music.


    ¡°I could¡¯ve had this,¡± said Oriana. ¡°But I ruined it.¡±


    Akki knelt by her. She put a hand on Oriana¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°God.¡± Oriana¡¯s voice broke and turned into a desperate whine. ¡°He loved me. He really really loved me. How could I have been so stupid?¡±


    ¡°You were misled.¡±


    ¡°By what? My Tarot?¡±


    ¡°Your fixation.¡±


    ¡°Stagnant waters,¡± mused Oriana. ¡°What¡¯s it mean to make stagnant waters?¡±


    ¡°It generally means they turn toxic.¡±


    ¡°So I was so fixated on what he might be doing I ruined this for myself.¡±


    Akki squeezed her shoulder.


    ¡°How do I fix it?¡± asked Oriana.


    ¡°I imagine communicating would help,¡± said Akki.


    ¡°I think I ruined that too.¡±


    ¡°Apologies.¡± Akki rose and bowed at the waist to Oriana. ¡°If it¡¯s beyond redemption in the waking world, then this is beyond me.¡±


    Oriana frowned.


    ¡°However.¡± Akki straightened back up. ¡°It¡¯s not beyond you.¡±


    ¡°You think I could make it work? Make him listen?¡±


    ¡°I think if you love him, it¡¯d be wise to try.¡±


    A morning dawn lit upon Oriana¡¯s face. She remembered she¡¯d left the blinds open. Without transition, she was awake on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. No more dream. No more Akki. No more hope except that Daemyn would hear her out, one last time.


    She called his number and listened to the end of the line ring.