Waking Dreams

By Scott Soto

Chapter 1 - Bound in Blood

While you or I might find it strange to cough out dirt and blood, it wasn’t the first thing on Jimm's mind. The first thing on his mind was an angry boy with a complexion as dark as his temper towering above him and kicking him violently in the ribs. Things two through seven in no particular order and varied degrees of desperation were: Please, don’t let me pass out; fuck, that hurt; I think I’m going to piss myself; Venn is such an asshole; did Serra see that wince; I’m so glad I turned down that ale; and damn it..

That’s odd. Why am I coughing out dirt and blood was thought eight and was immediately followed by his ninth thought, which he said out loud, “I’m going to fucking kill you if you kick me one more time Venn.”

Venn flinched as if he'd been struck and turned to look over at Jimm. When he saw the blood dribbling out of Jimm's mouth all of the was fury forgotten, his face bloodless and nearly bone white against his black hair, at before he stammered out, “I ain’t been kicking you Jimm, I was just kickin’ da mutt’s whelp…”

Jimm stood a solid five feet eleven inches tall and Venn towered above him in much the same way an oak might tower over a pond, but this was the first time the boys had ever spoken to quite like this. In fact it was the first time the two of them had spoken to each other since Venn had walked in on his little sister Serra straddling Jimm in the barn that morning back at town. It was also the first time that Jimm’s eye had ever blacked itself without anyone touching him or his lip had spit open without a fist to assist it. “Blood magic,” Serra exhaled, eyes wide in rapt fascination. Her heart beat even faster than when her brother Venn had walked in on their performance earlier that day, drawn as inexorably toward the forbidden as a moth to any flame. The girls in the group had been hanging back, not wanting to see what the boys were going to do to the pup they had found. It was an excellent vantage point to see exactly how Jimm had taken the alleged beating so far and injuries blossoming out of thin air. A number of them had already turned away from the scene and started back toward camp.

“Quite right,” Jimm muttered, glowering at Venn, “I’m sorry you had to find out you know what you know how, but I swear if you keep me bound to that mutt while you beat it I’ll fucking kill you.”

The exchange sounded playful enough but the air around the two boys was charged with something otherworldly. Jimm’s beating heart was tied to that miserable dog through his friend’s animosity, barely controlled rage fueling a link between two fleshes and transmuting all of Venn’s fury at it’s real source.

“But- but Jimm,” Venn muttered, fear overpowering the hatred that had consumed him earlier, “I- I don’t know how I did it.”

It had been nearly seven weeks since they'd stumbled into the abandon, burned out old library. They'd taken dares on who could run in the furthest, grab a book from the rubble, and get back out when one of them had emerged with Histories de Magicis. Venn had taken the Mayor's daughter Tandy for a tumble in the barnyard afterward and convinced her to steal her father's latin dictionary. After that it hadn't taken long to gather the attention of half of the kids in town. They'd only had one bad scare when half a wall had collapsed while some stupid kid was messing around but in the end they'd found two dozen books that had rubbish fairy stories in them and half a dozen more books of real, honest magic. Everyone had found a spell or two that they could work in one of the books and Venn's favorite had been Ligatum et in Sanguinem from a roped off section labeled "Restringitur" but this was the first time he'd done anything with it that Jimm had known about. If he had done anything.

Over the last few weeks there had been mishaps that needed covering up before the adults found out what they were doing out in the woods. All of the boys and girls in the field and in the nearby camp had grown close these last two months, learning and playing games of magic. The silence that followed Venn's confession spread from the field toward the camp and their friends came streaming through the tall grasses, whispering to each other in hushed voices. One of the girls, Elsie, tapped on the side of her glasses and muttered "Conspectu esse vera," as Tandy jumped to Venn's defense, stepping between the two boys before she let out a voice that was a little more than a squeak, "Venn wouldn't never- I mean he wouldn't ever-"

Elsie cut off Tandy squeaking stuttering defense with a rather girlish squeal as she fell back onto the ground. She’d had a stronger talent in examining magic than working much of it it herself but there were moments that everyone wondered if she'd been staring into the void a bit longer than healthy.

“Of course Venn can’t break the link,” Elsie laughed as she dusted off her dress before standing up, “It’s your familiar after all!”

“Well he bloody better break the link before that mutt dies,” Jimm replied sourly, “If he doesn’t let it go I’ll-“

Jimm stopped suddenly as something clicked, words sliding into place like a puzzle block falling into an open space in his brain. “The fuck do you mean it’s my familiar?”

As Elsie dove into her explanation of the complex mechanics for forming a bond with an animal, the factors that enhanced that bond, and the myriad of ways that the bond could impact both parties, histories and mythologies, Jimm realized he was fucked. His breathing was already becoming shallow and he could feel broken ribs scratching at bits inside of his chest. Terror mirrored across two beating hearts as Elsie explained that when a link was established even an unconscious empathy supported by the proper magics could form a bridge when once hadn’t already existed. Had he felt bad when Venn started in on the pup? Of course he had. He knew who Venn really wanted to kick in. All of this was exactly what-

Turning, Jimm placed his breakfast as far away from Serra as possible and he was only mildly upset that he hadn’t had the foresight to aim closer to Venn’s fucking boots. He dropped to his knees and coughed out a red-black liquid, his mouth tasting strongly of iron or copper, he couldn’t quite place it. Around him shapes moved in the darkness while the sun beat down overhead, a single point of blinding brightness in a world of gray.

A gray haze is a terrible thing to use for telling time, so he had no idea how much time had passed when he began to stir. A taste of honey filled his mouth, filled his entire chest with warmth, magic thick on the air. Hungry lips pressed against his, sucking greedily as if they might swallow his soul out through his throat. The smell of clover and licorice filled his nose as he took a breath and he smiled, reached up to grab the soft, firm flesh of the shape on top of him and hold her close. Small, powerful hands held off the advances of his too short arms and oddly inarticulate hands. At his insistence one of those powerful hands parted his lip against the sharp fangs in his mouth.

“Eh uck wahz hat tor?” he muttered as he opened his eyes. He was in some kind of tent and Elsie fumed above him. She spat a mouthful of blood across his muzzle before she stormed off. As he scratched himself behind ear in confusion, he heard her call out from around a nearby campfire, “the fucking dog’s awake, how's Jimm doing?”

To call one so bonded super human might not be a stretch, but for the first few weeks it was apparent that humans have their limitations for good reasons. When you’re young you might recall those days when you would spin and spin until the world spun around you when you stopped, some internal compass knocked outward in both directions to leave you unable to cope with maltreatment of our body's sense of self location, a bodily system designed to make human beings superior to automatons like the golems of old. It was always incredible fun, until you threw up your breakfast or broke your ankle. Sometimes it’s still fun after that, particularly if you learn to cope with the sensations that wash over you as you bring yourself back to center.

As he woke, Jimm felt through two sets of conflicting senses that the world had stopped spinning and he had been left trying to find his feet. The process was much more brutal than any of the books they had gathered suggested it would be, though it seemed to have more to do with the kind of binding than the bond itself. It was not unusual for a master to link minds with a familiar so that commands or suggestions could be nudged into the other’s mind or a call of warning could reach the master’s thoughts. Even using a familiar as a conduit for magic, a protector of sorts against the surges of backlash and a battery or generator for magical energies, wasn’t unheard of, but no true master would merge his flesh with that of a beast. That was stuff for druids and savages.

He was stuck fighting an odd sense of bio-location as he saw with two sets of eyes, heard with two sets of ears. His nerves were the pups nerves, the pup’s muscles his own. Thoughts didn’t travel but rather mingled and when he moved sometimes the wrong body moved instead of the right one. He had to relearn how to walk, how to talk, how to shut his mind away from his new companion. It was easier when the mutt was asleep and he was tempted more than once to just start drugging him, but Serra was too amused by the little tricks he was learning to work to go through with it and the power it was giving him. He could feel it growing inside of him like a living thing, wild and free.

A week and a half after the accident, in the deepest darkness of early morning he could smell the dew on the grass and through his nose almost see the shape of the wind that had carried the grasses pollens about that evening. And as he looked at the tapestry the wind painted he saw a silhouette in clover and licorice break through it. The moon had waxed a span ago, leaving a crescent sliver of white against a backdrop of diamonds and darkness. Through the grasses and woody groves the girl’s shadow beckoned and danced the woods alive with countless mysteries. Beside the clover and licorice girl’s foot a rabbit had crossed just the afternoon before, falling in step before and after her on the trail she took were the musk of deer, birds everywhere and nowhere caught and scattered by the flow of the wind through the boughs above in patterns too complex for his nose to follow. His feet moved ever further onward, carrying him closer his clover and licorice girl. As he neared he heard a small sob and grew still before creeping out and pouncing on its source. Elsie smiled up at him.

"You stupid mutt, always coming after me when I'm running off to be by myself," she scolded gently as she scratched behind his ear, her bare body bathing in the waning moonlight and her clothes a pillowed against her.

Chapter 2 - Nightmares & Dreamscapes

Tired blue-gray eyes blink in the stillness. Darkness is illuminated by explosions of color as a myriad of roses in sapphire, amethyst, and shades of sunset explode along the walls and floor. Water falls like a river from the pond to northwest flowing in a stream to the southeast, before snaking its way across the ground to run along the steps that lead down into the labyrinth of greens, blues, and violets.

The roses hedge in twisting pathways that lead down and away as a girl follows the moss-slick cobblestones. Massive trees reach toward the open skies above him, streaking past intricate bridges of masonry that feel as though they've been folded back inside themselves. The stones themselves creak under the weight of something half seen as it lashes against firmly bedded chains. Something small scampers across the ceiling before vanishing behind a hedge as it runs toward the wall. Shaking her head, Elise stumbles forward a few steps before a crisp crunch whispers up to her.

Encroaching on the moss-strewn bricks, the flowery heads of clovers peer up at her from further down the path, away from the nearby bridge and the stream. She pauses at the crossroads, considering, when a gentle breeze carries the scent of honey to him and his feet begin moving of their own accord. The ebbing water fades into the distance and as he moves deeper into the green arms of the labyrinth, her perfume chokes his breath away.

Crunching and snapping, needles spring toward her and bite deeply onto her arm. She stares at the strange creature as it coalesces into a clawing, tugging drake. Her arm shines silver as the drake's claws scramble uselessly seeking purchase on her flesh. Her free hand moves toward the creature's eyes as she mutters something quickly under his breath. Leaves and nettles blacken, smoldering under her touch, but refuse to catch fire. The drake whips around, throwing Elsie to the ground before its bunches into itself, ready to spring.

She stares at her arm in half recognition. "Moonsblood?" she whispers as the drake launches toward her. She falls away from its grasping claws before finding her knees and standing. A wave of vertigo washes over her as she looks down the side of the walls she's standing on toward the drake. She backs away as the drake hisses and her foot comes out from under her on the leaf-covered path. Bending down on her knee and staring the beast in the face she knows that she needs a weapon to defend herself with. Her fingers grasp around something cold and the drake springs, bounding up the wall toward her.

The drake's head parts from it's body and it explodes, a pile of leaves nettles left unattended on a late fall afternoon. As the wilting cloud settles against the wall, a silver bladed katana glitters in her hands. Entranced, Elise doesn't see the wilt spreading through the clover and moss or the bushes beginning to blacken. Chains rattle and a snap echoes through the air. Looking toward the source of the noise Elise's eyes grow wide. The chimera's chains hang limp and empty.

Elise bolts upright in her sleeping roll. The light from the early morning filters into her tent and her face outlined in a halo of deep red fire that quickly darkens to chestnut. She's panting, staring at her arm. The dream had felt so real, but it was just another dream. There had been such power. Such freedom. She sighs softly as the dream begins to slip through the fingers of her waking mind. Tonight, I'll taste a different freedom. Smiling, she rose to start her day.

She knew the coming night was for her and the stars above alone.

Chapter 3 - A Sea of Starlight

The last whispers of leaves rustling and crunching gently together had already faded and though the day had been hot, at least it was dry unlike some of the less fortunate summers spent in youthful exile. The baleful yellow eye staring hatefully upon the gathered friends and lovers had long fled, leaving the kind of warm darkness under the boughs of the trees that envelopes you like velvet, caressing with every passing step and carpeting the world in silence so absolute that you don't just hear the deep thump of your own heart beating but the splashing blood coursing through you as well, like a child playing in a puddle but somehow deeper. An endless black well leading into the gentle oblivion of exhaustion where the waking mind wanders, flirting with the subconscious in a gentle seduction and, as you dip your toes into it, you feel the deep undercurrents pulling at you down into the inky starlight reflected upon the rippled waters.

The wood itself stretched away from the small encampment with a predatory grace. Trees both thick and slender towered beyond the firelight, the bare earth quickly devoured by a thick green fur creeping along both wood and stone, while coarse briars of flowers, berries, thorns, and saw-edged leaves. The trails well worn through the wild still crawled with roots and moss, and if a bramble had dared creep into the path the end of it was often cracked or broken completely by the flight of some beast. It was down one of these quiet, empty trails that a young girl danced, her eyes alight with all of the cold blue fire of the stars above as they peeked through leaf and bough and her hair caressing the wind like countless silk ribbons stained a deep red with the juice of blackberries.

Each step she took was light and full footed, neither running away nor running toward somewhere. Her body bare, gently embraced by a cloak of the living night, the youthful confidence that comes with knowing that the young can never die, and a faint scent of clover and licorice from her loose chestnut hair as it played around her neck and ears, tickling her gently with each twist in the wind. It was chestnut wasn't it? It had seemed to very red just moments before.

Her delicate feet found a stream-bed, soft smooth rocks, damp thick moss, and countless footprints of those lesser creatures that had preceded her majestic flight through the woods, thought they'd not have guessed it. The forest itself coming more awake with every step, deeper and deeper into the darkness where the stars burned brighter and now cricket and cicadas triumphantly announced her arrival to the rustling approval of the leaves above her before they parted abruptly. A deep, dark mirror of the sky rippled gently in the pool beyond the edge of the treeline and as she gazed down into it she knew yesterday was dust and tomorrow would never be. There was only this moment, shattered and broken like her reflection in the still waters as the beast rose dripping from the depths.

There were reasons why her friends had all agreed to leave society and vacation in the deep wild. They'd long ago found a forgotten library of magic tomes, and times being what they were the Arts were considered dark forces best left untouched by simpleminded Gods-fearing folk like their parents. There were dark fairy-stories told about little children who went poking around wizards and witches and warlocks. They all ended the same way, with that little boy cursed, or that little girl transformed and threatened daily with the oven and a fine coat of olive oil to help make her outsides crackle. After they'd found the Library they'd realized what nonsense it was. There were no murderous wizards baking little children in ovens. There were no alchemists playing god and making monsters. There weren't. The chimera begged to differ.

She had mistaken its head for a moss covered rock before it began to move, the green so deep it was nearly black under the light of the stars. It opened a single eye, slightly off center of the top of its head as it eased out of the deep toward her, its maw curling back into something resembling a grin and full of needle-like teeth each the length a full grown man's hand. Another eye opened, and then another as it slid up and out toward Elsie, its grin pulling back even further, teeth protruding, as the eyes continued to blossom like open sores all over its head and across its neck and shoulders. Half crawling and half dragging it hoisted itself above her, matted fur dripping wet from the the waters.

Transfixed, she stood still as a stone while her heart quaked and her lip trembled. The creature reached out with it's claw while it held itself out of the water with the other three, unwinding coils from the darkness to snake through the shoreline, and stroked her nipple gently with the back of its nail, raising gooseflesh all over her body and tightening a chill within her deeper than any fear she had ever known, then it whispered, "Run, tasty little sweetling," and she did. It's laugh was a guttural inhuman thing manufactured deep within its throat and oozing out through it's teeth down into her bones without ever truly reaching her ears.

It was still laughing when it began crashing through the forest after her.

Chapter 4 - Clover & Licorice

The dusky summer air was full of the scent of woodsmoke, alive with the ripe hues of ceder and maple intermixed with just a hint of cinnamon, burnt sugar, alive with a proliferation or anise, lavender, honeysuckle, catnip, rose hips, blackberries and drunk on the deeper shades of raspberry brandy, strawberry wine, and honeyed mead. Two boys had found it entertaining to animate a pair of cookie soldiers and force them to fight to the death over the campfire before the victor was rewarded with a near drowning in chocolate and a swift crunch between its master's teeth. A couple lounged in the afterglow on the dirt, idly tracing fingers over each other in small arcane gestures soliciting gasps, moans, and giggles as each one activated with a brief burst of light and illuminated their small corner of darkness near the warmth of the fire while the noisy throws of drunken debauchery echoed out another tent on the opposite side of the camp. The woodsmoke did little to cover the acrid stink of sex heavy in the air from that group of pale-skinned apes and when one of the males wandered out of the tent to relieve himself in the bushes one of the females followed him, bottle in hand, rinsed his cock off with it's contents then dropped to her knees to take him into her mouth. When they woke in the morning sore, exhausted and hung over they might reconsider tampering with the forces of nature that stretch the body to such a limit of human endurance, but Dog doubted it.

Ever since he had bonded Master the others had taken it as a sign that all of the stories of the evils inherent in magic were complete nonsense. The kids had quested further into the Library by the twos and threes until they had found a vault they dubbed The Archives. It was in that dark place that the mysteries of Tantric Magic had been found, and boys being what they are wouldn't leave damn well enough alone. They'd moved their camp even deeper into the woods before they'd started practicing it to reduce the chances of someone from the village stumbling across them even further. It was one thing to piddle around with forces better left untouched, but the village elders would have someone flayed and their hide tanned for a blanket if they knew they were practicing forbidden magics of sex and body that were locked deeply away in the vault of a library full of magics, like some dark and terrible secret. So far they'd only bothered to master the wines, incenses, oils, and other charms used to inflame and heighten arousal or pleasure which was a blessing of sorts wrapped in a curse. Tantric Magic by definition drew it's power from sexual energy, which is why it had so many avenues to generate that energy with but every night with their focus so single minded it seemed to intensify even further, though Master seemed indifferent to it despite the tendrils of magic snaking through the camp and striking out at unsuspecting victims.

The clover & licorice girl always left as they were getting started, as did a few of the others, to give the magic some time to dissipate and blood time to cool before returning to sleep, but something was different tonight. The last sliver of the moon had gone black, leaving just the stars above to light the dark of the woods in an ocean of black and charcoal, but he could still see the dance of her passage, written with clover and licorice on the wind and moss, kissing a branch here and a leaf there. Master had fallen asleep and wouldn't miss him until morning, Dog convinced himself as he bounded after the clover & licorice girl. This was the scent of the girl who had breathed life back into him and once his Master understood he'd abandon his plaything and take the clover & licorice girl. It seemed like there was fire in the air as he hunted after her movements, each more wild than the one before in some frenzied dance. He paused at each piece of clothing she'd discarded and drank deeply of her scent before he stopped, catching something different on the wind. He darted over brook and under bough after her, ignoring the musk of deer and rabbit that lesser mutts would have happily bounded after. The wind had shifted and her scent was laced with fear.

It wasn't a bad dream, to run to the rescue of one of the pretty little girls who lived in their camp and pretended to understand how magic worked. He'd had simmilar dreams before, following girls after dark and watching what they did when they thought no one was looking, sneaking up to them and cuddling against them. In the throws of the new magic one of them had even tried to lure him with the taste of peanut-butter. She had gotten considerably more than she'd intended, but seemed satisfied enough when he was through with her. Each dream was the same, colors washed away the aroma of the world heightened beyond a full bouquet, and fleeting when the day returned as dreams tend to be. This was the first time that- MASTER. Jimm's eyes snapped open as his mind sharply closed itself to its invader as his heart thumped violently in his chest, a trapped crow seeking freedom. What a strange - MASTER!

He sat up and shook his head to clear it a bit. The thin blanket fell off of him and framed Serra next to him. She was a vision of lust with her wild mane hair and supple nipples dark against bare breasts, lit as she was by the light drifting into the tent from the campfire. Still sleeping she reached down and wrapped her fingers wrapped around his manhood as he tried to rise, holding him fast. He sighed sweetly as she brought him to her mouth and let himself drift, to check on the damn mutt. He wasn't in camp? Further then... MASTER! Awareness flooded him, the girl, the path, the terror, a glimpse of something inhuman. He tore Serra off of him and gathered mana in his fist, his mind reciting the words faster than lips could possibly follow and he ran naked out into the camp, plunging his fist into the flames, as he pulled his hand away he took a handful of the embers with him and left the campfire flickering silver and blue. Soulfire. Alarmfire. Questions were being asked, but he couldn't hear them. She was running from it. It was chasing toward them. It had already eaten her and was following her trail. He didn't know. The Soulfire would give the others a link to follow him. He'd slow it down and hope that help was sober enough to be of use.

The darkness swallowed him and he relaxed his eyes to the familiar charcoal gray and black of his dreams. He nearly flew as he followed his memories through the woods toward the beast, moving like an animal through the trees and over the stream. Fire erupted across his chest as he felt a rib snap. He missed his next grip and careened into a tree. The world went fuzzy and for a moment he caught another glimpse of it. His skin prickled and the Soulfire dimmed for a moment as his determination wavered. She had curled tiglty into a ball at the edge of a clearing and was bleeding badly through her fingers where they clutched the back of one of her thighs. It had been playing with her when Dog had fallen upon them and now it was playing with Dog... But... But it was close.

Dog smiled up at the monstrosity, an evil thing made of claws and teeth and coils and so many eyes. He could feel his Master approaching. The chimera laughed, a gutteral inhuman thing that reverberated deep within the bones as it scooped up Dog and brought him toward its gaping mouth. And Dog replied in Jimm's voice, "Per patris ossa montibus." The chimera froze, mouth gaping open and eyes wide, fixated on Dog or twisted to look as closely at him as possible as he continued, "Eradicetur ad terram. Chains erupted from the earth, formed from the mind of the caster and given shape and purpose by the words recited. They swam over around and through the Chimera, piercing bone and flesh as they bound it to the ground. As Jimm stepped into the clearing he and Dog spoke with one voice, "In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt."

The chimera twisted against its bonds, writhing, but it refused to burn. Dog had fallen exhausted against Elise as soon as the chimera had released him and now that she wasn't quite so afraid that it was going to devour her on the spot she had taken one hand to cover her breasts and was fixated on the hand covering her thigh while she chanted something under her breath faster than Jimm could follow. He wrenched his eyes away from her and tried to form the image in his mind again, the hungry inferno that could devour this monstrosity and erase it from existence while the chains still held it.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." An eye blackened.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." Smoke escaped from its maw, trickling through its teeth.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." Moss wilted around it.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt. In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt. In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." An eye turned a blistered white, fur singed, the beast bellowed in rage and metal screamed as it tried to break free of its chains again.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." A second voice joined in and a scattering of eyes blackened as fur singed. From the corner of his eye Jimm saw Venn standing next to him eyes too focused on the monstrosity before them and lips quirked in a smirk.

"In patrios cineres, fiam animum incenderunt." The chant continued, four now instead of one. Then seven. Then seventeen. Then more. Some slurred slightly and some groped each other, though none could say if it was from fear or arousal, but everyone agreed this monster needed to burn.

And so it did.

Chapter 5 - Bump in the Night

She had no idea how long she had been lost in despair, in madness, before she had begun to count her own heartbeats. The air was heavy and warm, but seemed to bleed the warmth from her as well. It wrapped around her like a cocoon with a force that masked all sensation. She could will her fingers to move, her legs to bend, her mouth to open and close, but she couldn't feel anything. She couldn't smell anything in the air, or taste the air in her mouth, or feel the air fill her lungs. She couldn't feel her own fingers if she willed her hand to close, or her face if she reached toward where it should be.

All darkness had been bled from her world, leaving a blinding white abyss, that was more the absence of sight than its presence, like the spots you see when looking at a bright light for too long. Even when her eyes were closed she still saw nothing but the blinding white light. Even when she knew her hand should be before her face, her eyes refused to confirm it. She heard nothing but the coursing blood through her body, the sound of her own breathing, and the beat of her own heart. It had driven her to madness and drug her squirming back to sanity.

She wasn't sure how long she existed like this. It was impossible to gauge time at all, except by the counting of heartbeats, and even that was called into question. One part of her mind clung to a single thought with all of the force and determination that gravity itself uses to hold rocks to the earth. That part of her mind tallied seconds using her heartbeat as a guide. She paced her own heartbeat at roughly four beats per five seconds once when she lived in a world full of golden light and color. She hoarded her heartbeats until she had another measure to count them against. The other parts of her mind contested for supremacy amongst her mind.

What if I have no body, she pondered, I can't hear myself no mater how many times I call out. I can't feel myself. I haven't eaten anything since coming here. Did I ever have a body to begin with? It was a frightening path of questions that would have her unable to sleep for... Have I slept? If I sleep then why don't I dream? If I dream, is it always this place? Haven't I dreamt of other things before? I have hands don't I? Why can't I dream of what my hands look like?

The part of her who counted heartbeats trembled when thoughts strayed in this fashion, terrified that she might be right and the count of heartbeats were off. How do I even know they're called heart beats? Am I feeling them or hearing them or both? If I can feel my heart beating why can't I feel anything else? Does that mean I do have a body.

In the middle of one of her many revelries she may have felt the air vibrate had she been paying attention for it. The change in pressure against her was so minuet that it went unnoticed as she continued to debate within herself. She was back to questioning whether she had ever truly existed to see anything when a shaft of golden light had pierced through silence and stillness for a span of several heartbeats before it was gone again. She blinked her eyes, not believing what she had seen, while her mind continued to count heartbeats as she waited for the light to return. It was only in heartbeats that time could truly be counted.

I have hands, she thought to herself, I have such beautiful hands.

Chapter 6 - Unbound Principles

"Septimus genus Magus, Hames Clar, assumpta mortuus, eius chimera assumpta obnoxius et. 27133," Elsie read aloud from a book bound in pale leather dyed a deep red. The writing on the spine of the book named it "Tabulae" and they had found it in a ruined section of records labeled Tabularium. It seemed to be a list of magical incidents. She had begun reading the incidents aloud for those who were working to find new knowledge in the burned out ruin.

"You think that was the same chimera Jimm killed back in the woods?"

She looked up from the book over toward Venn. He was raiding the vault again. "Did you make sure to only take things that still had labels on them? You almost killed everyone with that 'wizardly ale' you brought back last time."

Venn laughed heartily, the light of a broken mirror scattering across his face and down into the vault behind him. His eyebrows were still in the process of growing back. "I did. There are a few unmarked bottles on the floor from when ah..um.. Tandy and I were fooling around in there last week but I'm sure I'll figure out what they are."

Elsie shook her head. Those two were going to get everyone killed, or worse, caught by their parents. It didn't matter if you were of age for a quick tumble in the hay when one of the tumblers was the Mayor's daughter. If anyone suspected what they were up to they'd petition the governer to have the army come down and burn out the library, maybe even the entire wood. She shuddered to think what could happen if any of the people back at town found proof.

"So, the chimera?" Venn pressed.

Elsie repressed a shudder. That beast had been horrible. Whispering. Laughing. Touching her... The shudder escaped unbidden as she huffed, "I don't know. I don't even know if a Seventh Class Mage means he was some kind of bad-ass or some weakling. There aren't any entries in the book at all about First or Ninth class mages. There was that Third Class Mage, Willias whatever, who imprisioned people in trees and statues and oil lamps and such. It kept popping up every few pages, but it doesn't say if what he was doing was a bad thing or even if it was difficult. It could even mean that a Seventh Class Mage specialized in meddling with natural magics directly while Third Class Mages specialized in some kind of sealing magic. I just haven't found enough to go on yet."

"How many of each have you found so far?"

She paged back to an earlier spot and froze.

"Jess, can I see the notes you were copying for me?" Elsie called out. After a moment with no response, no sound from where Jess was sitting Elsie stood and walked over to her.

"Jess?" Elsie beaconed again, gently.

Jess' dirty brown hair had recently been kept close cropped to keep it from getting mussed while she was tumbling with her Tantric pursuits in the evening. It seemed ethereal as it swayed in the open breeze where she sat. It was the only part of her that moved. Her eyes stared into a distance unfathomably far away, lost to everyone around her. Her breathing itself seemed to have stopped. Frantic, Elsie reached to shake her friend. As her hands grasped Jess' shoulders she found herself across the room, coughing. Venn dropped his prizes and ran toward her shouting, "The hell was that?"

"Rogue.. Element..." Elsie coughed. Venn paled before he repeated her, shouting the words. It was one of the alarm signals they had agreed on while they were exploring the library. It meant that someone had found a patch of magical principles unbound from reality, like the chimera or the bottle of ale he'd brought back with them.

"Everyone's clearing out," Venn whispered to Elsie as the other kids began making their way toward the entrances, "What do you need me to do?"

"See," Elsie coughed as she took off her spectacles and put them on Venn's face, "Conspectu esse vera." Elsie eyes closed. Her breathing seemed regular enough and as he placed his hand on her chest her heart beat strongly under it. He turned toward Jess.

The world was out of focus. Venn had always had strong, good eyes and he'd never worn eyeglasses in the past, but as he looked, for the first time he truly saw. There were webs woven of written words all over the library walls, floating through the air like gossamer. There was ink smudged on Jess' thumb, and marks smudged across the page she had been writing. The page itself glowed alight with magic. Whatever had triggered it had reached out and gathered up threads of half woven spells and linked them together around Jess. He stepped carefully through the broken skein of magic that wrapped around her, following it step by step towards something that he might be able to undo. A cornerstone. Something. Anything A passing cloud ended his search with a crunch as it disrupted the wrong element of the spell.

He didn't remember eating so much that morning as he emptied it across the floor. He couldn't remember whcih bottles and flasks he had grabbed originally, so he grabbed all of them wtihin reach of his pile at the opening of the vault. He couldn't remember carrying Elsie out of the ruined library.

He would never forget the red puddle of blood and bone had become of Jess when principles of magic that had entrapped her had finally come undone.

That night not even Tandy could coax him to sleep.

He saw Jess every time he closed his eyes.

Chapter 7 - Eclipse

"The shadow of death, Eclipse, wielded by Ordinem Electi... The Order of the Chosen...was unleashed upon the great city Ravenwood. The leaders of Ravenwood were given one opportunity, and a grace of six-hundred days while the armies waited outside of their gates. No merchants or travelers were harassed as they entered the city and no citizens were granted passage to leave. Days gave way to weeks and weeks to months but still the strange siege continued. No blood was spilled for nearly two years before the great darkness brought fear of magic to the world and laid waste Ravenwood."

Elsie shook her head as Serra finished reading the passage aloud. Three weeks had passed since Jess had her accident; the lies had been easy, though the lesson was hard. The books of magic they researched refused to be copied and those who researched them had begun committing them to memory. Every time a page was turned it revealed new information and the previous page vanished. You had to be sure. Elsie bit her lower lip gently as she closed her eyes, reciting the words in her mind. "Again, please," she sighed.

Jimm ran his fingers through his hair as Dog nuzzled against his foot. Tandy had been arguing a lot lately about their studies and it wasn't getting any easier. She had insisted on coming with him and Venn when they'd gone back to get what was left of Jess. She thought Venn was just messing around when he had told her to just bring a mop and a bucket. Jimm shuddered just thinking about it and wished Venn had been joking.

Everyone seemed to have their own fears about everything, from Serra and her possession stories to Rael and his fear that the wrong enlargement spell could drive away women instead of pleasing them. Rael was an idiot, and probably deserved whatever he got for drawing so much interest in the Tantric Magics, but Serra had a good point. There were reasons why magic was feared, and they needed to be careful while working with it. The ruined library where they worked was a tangled mess of magics that they didn't understand and hadn't read about yet or tried to invoke in any shape or form. They needed to move everything from the library to somewhere more secure.

Brand had voiced the idea he was preparing to present to the others. Brand who was so fascinated by some of the magics had them burned into his skin to make it easier to draw on them. Brand who had already survived two magical accidents because of those scars he had given himself and their warding effect. If they were to truly live with magic, they needed to make a place to call home. A place that could give them working stations that were properly warded against dangers and free of the tangles of wild magic.

He was already late to the gathering, and Elsie had already begun reciting her latest translation for everyone to listen to.

"At the dawn of the first day of the third week of the fourth month of the second year of the siege upon the great city of Ravenwood, the armies of Moor’s Reach have begun to ripple in the distance, camps and men parting in great wave, and closing again behind a small object as it rolls ever closer. Steam coils around this... war cart like fog in the early morning. It's as black as midnight and as the horses and men driving it pull ever closer to the city walls the soldiers and campsites give them an ever wider berth. The enemy host has quieted and whispers while the men make gestures of fortune, luck, penance and forgiveness and the Sun itself seems to hide from some terrible presence.

"My lantern is beginning to frost. Our soldiers on the parapets are frantic. Our flaming arrows gutter out before they bolts shatter like glass against the darkness below. Someone has ordered a white flag raised, but the enemy has given no response.

"The cart has stopped a bare twenty-three paces from the gate and the the cold is eating into my bones. My archers tell me that the horses continue as if possessed, digging furrows into the ground as they try to pull a wagon that won't move until men walk up to each beast, calm it, and cut it free from the wagon. They speak of light, runes of some kind, glowing as an ember would from the wood of the cart.

"The two men have sheathed their blades and turned back toward the cart. They look to be saying some kind of prayer. They're-"

The silence settled on everyone gathered. Rand, the youngest among them and latest addition to their family at the turn of his seventeen birthday last month spoke first.

"Well, what's it say next."

Elsie swallowed and blinked tears from her eyes as they looked up from the smeared page.

"It didn't say anything next."

Chapter 8 - Three Days Later

Jimm hadn't slept since the meeting with the others. The new facets to the story of that deamon, Eclipse, had unnerved him, true, but that wasn't what had kept him sleepless. The vote had been nearly unanimous and it was time for them to finally establish their new home. Once it was built it was only a matter of time before the outside world knew of them, and the magics they had weren't those of old. They had power, but no finesse and no control. The prospect left him in cold sweats as he thought about what might become of them.

Brand had insisted on overseeing the excavations himself as the bones of their city were laid into the ground, each tunnel burrowed from one foundation site to another. At the encampment's heart, beating with a mind of its own, was the clearing and spring where Elsie had been cornered by the monstrosity, the place of unity and peace where they proved that they could stand against the ideas of the past regardless of their differences. The stones of the archways and passages below the earth were marked with old runes, forming the bones of every spell they might lay fresh into their new home's construction.

It was one of Brand's former lovers - Emi? Was that her name? Or Lil... something. Jimm couldn't remember, regardless as she came running toward him. Her slight build was still more than ample, bosom near to bursting from the top of the well cleaved shirt and all of her splattered with dirt stains that covered half of her freckles as it darkened her blonde hair. Since his fight with Serra on the evening of the decision they hadn't spoken except to say their goodbyes. It had been three days since then and despite the constant flow of adrenaline and the purpose of the work he was drunk on exhaustion. He certainly wasn't ready for her to jump toward him and wrap arms and legs tightly around his neck and waist.

Jimm looked up from their tumbled pile, bewildered and breathing deeply from the scent of her hair as the girl squealed, "Brand found spell-steel! It was..."

His eyes locked with two sapphires sparkling in the light that trickled down from outside of the tunnel and it took him a moment to realize that they belonged to the girl. Spell-steel. Dreams came to life, myths and legends of old. It meant hope. Freedom. They would be able to forge instruments of magic for the defense of their new home. The heavy chains that had pressed down on his body for the last three days were sundered and fell weightless from his shoulders.

"...forge. Once he's picked a spot we-" Jimm hadn't heard the girl's words and at the moment he didn't care what she was saying. They were going to live and life deserved a fitting celebration. His fingers laced through auburn hair as he caught her by the back the head pulling her close so that his lips could silence hers. Her mouth seemed startled at first, as did her body as she felt his pressing against her. It took only a moment for the tension melted away, butter on the heat of the bed of a pan. Her tongue tickled and teased his mouth and she nibbled on his lip as her hands pulled him close against her. Her soft breasts pressed against him so tightly that he could feel her heart pounding as if it were within his own chest.

He found himself standing with his back pressed against the cold earthen walls of the tunnel. Her lips parted from his and she pulled back, fingers frantically, desperately, playing at the laces on her shirt, her nipples as perked as her interest before she let out a squeak as his fingers wandered lower. The squeak turned into a soft moan on her lips as he reached down beneath her and began stroking the soft wet mound of her sex. Patience forgotten and lips trembling in desperate need her fingertips shone with a silvery light and the laces fell from her top, spilling her soft freckled breasts out into the dim light of the tunnel. He could only admire them for a moment, from their gentle curve to the soft perky nipples, before she pulled his face against them. He smiled and she found his mouth sucking tenderly against her and for a moment they were lost in each other, enjoying the simple pleasures that such personal contact brings before the heat of passion burns it away.

She was pressed against him so tightly that she couldn't help but feel his desire pressing back against her. Her hips rocked against his body, first with the rhythm of his hand, fingers guiding her, then with a greater urge. Her hand ran down the side of his body before she reached into his pants and laced her fingers around his member. Another moan escaped her lips before she could press them against his ear.

"If you're done checking for bears," she teased, "perhaps your little wolf would like to investigate this hole for himself."

"Oh, yes," he whispered back.

The way she petted his 'little wolf' left him breathless as he panted and slid his fingers aside, stroking her clit as he brought them to his laces. He had barely touched them before the wolf was free from its confinement and chasing his pleasure deep into the recesses of her body.

Chapter 9 - Sins of the Father

"An 'lo, all the assembled soldiers united against the darkness were granted a glimpse of The Glorious Tapestry of Life and each was called forward to find the threads that were all of the paths they had chosen and all that they would chose in the future. As they approached they found that the tapestry itself was taller than mountains and longer than time itself. As was fitting for such a masterpiece each life was not a single thread, but countless threads woven together into a yarn and this yarn stretched back for generations to the very creation of life as we know it.

"As they traced their own threads within the yarns they despaired, for the path was too tangled to navigate with their eyes, and so the Keepers commanded, 'Those of you who would not despair in ignorance of your path may step forward and touch your thread and in touching know your place in The Glorious Tapestry of Life.'

"As the first of the soldiers stepped forward, a recruit who had lied about his parentage out of ignorance, the Keepers warned, 'Beware, for the magics that humanity has called into the world have left all who were to have descended from Ravenwood moth-eaten, and the threads of those responsible, of everyone with the blood of magic, have warn thin. If one of the blood should touch their thread it would surely snap and he would fall dead for all to see."

High Magistrate of the Faith, Delorios Woods, paused for his audience, surveying the crowd gathered for his sermon this glorious day. The pious few who attended all of his sermons, mostly courtly ladies of lower birth, were scattered throughout the congregation, eyes betraying their foreknowledge of his words. They were the closest thing the Faith had to a woman in service since they had reformed two generations ago. The others ranged from the curious to the covetous, the devoted and the devious, queerly dressed ambassadors from city-states engaged in negotiations, men at arms fresh from their post and those preparing to leave for battlefields long marches away, and high on the Dias of the Glorious Dawn, her Governance Temperance Evangeline the Seventeenth speaking with one of her agents.

Even distracted it was always a victory to have her Governance Temperance in assembly. The coffers filled twice as quickly when those attending feared she may notice their lack of faith with her own eyes. The Magistrate hid a smile behind the mask of his eyes before he continued, his voice grave.

"Despite the warning the boy stepped forward, unafraid and reached out to grasp at his own tenuous fate. There was one other soldier there who knew the boy from his time together growing up in the same village and held his breath, for he knew that the boy was orphaned when his parents were slain after slaying and devouring several young women in the area around their home. A quiet settled on the field as the boy smiled before he collapsed, breathless, on the field.

"The second boy, eager to take advantage of his foreknowledge to attract the attention of his superiors by being the first to recover from the shock and prove himself before them shouted, 'Only the abominations lying in wait to turn upon us need fear this test!'

"Ignoring the grief in the eyes of his fellows, the boy strode forward and reached for where he could feel his own thread humming. As he pressed his finger against it the world slowed to stillness and a silence so deafening that it drowned out the high wine his thread was crying out. It was in that cry that he heard the truth.

"He heard his mother scolding his father for tracking mud and dirt into the house when the path from the tavern was covered in gravel and well swept. He heard the fire crackling as his father threw torn shirts and trousers into it rather than waiting to have them mended. He heard sobs and screams and rending flesh. And then he heard no more.

"The first boy was rising again as the other soldiers looked on in shock. He bowed his head solemnly as the high tone rang out like the death of a tone echoing through his bones, tears flowing from his eyes.

"The boy's commander stepped forward and asked the question the others had waiting on their tongues, 'What have you done?'

"The boy looked up at the faces that stood arrayed around him and took a deep breath before he called out, 'I gave him the courage to face the fate of those who stand against us.'"

The Magistrate paused once more, for effect before he finished.

"That boy was his Governance Sethos Evangeline the First of his name. May his light guide our crusade forever onward."

Chapter 10 - Like a Candle in the Breeze

The air hummed with tension as steel crackled, white hot in the heart of Brand's forge. Sweat trickled down his bare chest as his body glowed with a faint pale light from the runes inscribed on the delicate bodies of the two lovely girls who were helping him with his work. In the darkness surrounding their light ten voices chanted in nearly inaudible tones. Word had slipped past Tandy's father's lips and into the ears of one of her Governess' agents and what had started as a dream was quickly turning toward nightmares. Brand's muscles clenched, tightening as he struck against the blade again, arms trembling from the hours of life he had already pounded into metal.

The precision needed to work spell-steel wasn't to be trifled with and each blow from his arm had to be perfectly timed against the blade with the bend of the magical energies that flowed through him. Each movement, every breath, part of a ritual that brought him closer to the power that they would be unleashing against their enemy. For the love of those who embraced him as he worked and the others he had come to call family he stared into the abyss. He blinked the darkness from his eyes and reached up to wipe the sweat from his brow only to find one arm tangled around Ema's waist, fingers twined with his rather than hammer, and the other wrapped around Lillian, breast cradled in hand rather than tongs .

"The sword," he muttered as he stirred from their embrace.

Ema's hand squeezed his as she arched her back, bare breasts dark shadows against the inky void of the room. Her eyes opened, a brilliant icy blue that seemed to glow from within, as she slipped her fingers from his and curled around to face him.

"Your sword," she breathed as she ran her fingertips up his thigh the runes emblazoned across her body coming alight with the same blue glow of her eyes, "is a very fine thing indeed. Shall I polish it for you?"

A green glow, like sunlight filtering through an emerald, lit up her smiling face from the side as Lillian began to stir. Eyes closed and her own set of runes blazing she whined softly, "Ema, you've already polished his sword, won't you help me fit it into my sheathe."

Brand frowned as he shoved both of them back a bit harder than he intended. Lillian opened an emerald eye at him, gaze mirrored in Ema's expression, and both shared a mischievous smile.

"My sweet Lily," Ema purred, "I do believe our Brand would rather watch Jimmy playing with his own sword than let us play with his tonight."

Lillian mocked a gasp, then took an outrageous tone as she declared, "Em! I do declare that you must be right! How scandalous! Shall we fetch Jimm for you so that you can examine his sword more closely my sweet Brand?"

Both girls expressions were gravel locked in concern for a full three heartbeats before they burst into a fit of tearful giggles. Concern melted from around Brand's eyes, replaced by a blankness of expression.

"Then...The sword?" he persisted, a glimmer of hope flickering in his voice.

Both girls leaned in and kissed him sweetly, one nuzzling against his neck while the other nibbling his ear.

As she nuzzled, Ema replied softly, "You exhausted yourself making it, my love."

Lillian smiled and whispered into his ear, "It was beautiful, my darling, a work of art."

"We treated it just like you told us to."

"And when Jimm stepped forward and drew it from it's scabbard..."

"It sang."

Brand blinked for a moment or two. They had said it as one, their voiced humming together. It sang. "How do you mean?"

Lillian's eyes were already starting to mist. She buried her face against Ema and Ema's slender fingers began brushing their way through Lillian's hair.

"It. Sang," Ema said softly, "When Jimm drew the sword from the sheathe it felt like the sword was whispering a prayer, or humming, or nearly ready to dance. It felt like the warmth of a summer day, like wet grass in the morning, like sex in the afternoon. It felt good, and right, and pure like no song I've ever heard before. You. You gave it a song of homecoming. Of strong walls and safe streets. Of confidence and authority like something my father's voice would have carried when he was worried about me without being afraid for me. It sang!"

Chapter 11 - Cracked

A mingled turquoise glow in alternating tones of azure and emerald throbbed through the darkness. A heady light, full of an intoxicating radiance. One million one hundred ninety-seven two hundred and forty-four heartbeats. Seventeen days seven hours forty-two minutes and, the gentle thrum of her beating heart silently updated the tally, almost thirty-six seconds. It wasn't such a long time to be in the dark.

She followed the light as it crept up from her delicate toes and the arches of her feet. It danced around her ankles and gently caressed her calves. The soft mound of hair between her thighs was tinted and the curves of her hips were hugged by it. Her belly button shadowed gently against her tight stomach and she hugged her slender arms around the fullness of her breasts as she bathed in the loving warmth of the light. Breathing it in for the first time since she had found herself again thirty-four and a half billion heartbeats ago she could taste magic in the air.

Something tickled through the air, something familiar and foreign and nearly musical. As she reached toward the vibration the woman bathing in turquoise light gasped. There was nothing there, but she could reach her hand no further forward and something pressed against her shoulder as she tried to reach. Frowning she turned and twisted, blinking her eyes as she explored her chamber. Smooth sides, flat bottom, rounding and narrowing before tapering toward the source of the light, the magic, the familiar sensation tickling her ears that she couldn't quite place. A bottle?

Her mouth opened and she covered it with her hands. She could feel her lips brushing against her fingers, her own breath warm on her hand, and then suddenly her body was shaking uncontrollably. The tickle in the air erupted out of her chest in a fit as she clutched her sides. Why am I in a bottle? How did someone- A bottle! All of this time and I've been trapped in a bottle! She could feel her mind fracturing again, she was shaking apart from the inside. Her throat felt raw. She couldn't breathe. Breathe? How long has it been since- Darkness enveloped her world once again. It caressed her, warm against her skin. It settled into her like an old friend ready to keep her safe.

The shaking stilled as she held herself in the darkness. One corner of her mind continued to shake and tickle at her subconscious, threatening to bring the fits again. She carefully fragmented it and tucked it away where it could amuse itself while she was thinking. She had to set a second part of herself to guard against it. Every time she thought of the bottle it redoubled, welling in strength and threatening to overwhelm her again.

No distractions, she ordered herself. For the first time in over thirteen hundred years she knew with complete certainty that she existed. For the first time in over thirteen hundred years she could feel her own body and measure the confines of her prison. She smiled to herself as a small thread that had been locked away breached her defenses.

Her giggles rang like a bell in the dark silence of the bottle.

Chapter 12 - Broken

By the magic of architecture was Temperance saved from the endless droning of Delorios Woods as the very walls reflected and redirected his voice around to the congregation below. There were days when she attended at her lesser Dias so that she could give him the opportunity to bring her closer to the forefather, but even on the most engaging of days he was often dry at best regardless of how well she fortified herself in drink before arrived. She never really missed anything important. The stories might change but their patterns never seemed to as Delorious spoke against the evils of magic as he reinforced how noble, wise, and just Lord Sethos had been.

Her inquisitors had brought their proof earlier that week, torn and broken though it was. Temperance waited patiently as the bleeding pile of rags, a mayor of some small nameless town near the fringe of her realm, shuddered to his knees.

Silence fell on the Dias and was quickly broken with a grunt as an inquisitor kicked the mayor in the gut with the toe of his boot.

"It's not my fault," he grunted, "It's not. I run a good town- a good-"

"A heretic town," the inquisitor growled.

"We-" the man coughed, "We run a clean village."

"Tell the truth, Riven."

"Last- last summer some of the kids- the kids got a fool no- notion into their heads. Went c-camping and a bunch of them never came back. They started charging their parents for help with chores. Started getting uppity, like they were better than us. It's not my fault. I just wanted to get my daughter back from them. I didn't know about... I didn't know. I don't know..."

"Mister Wilds. Tell. The. Truth."

"It's my fault. I- I should have- I should."

"Enough," Temperence's voice was stone and thunder, breaking away any argument that might have been left.

Please," Riven Wilds sobbed, "please don't hurt my Tandy... Not my Tandy..."

Temperance arched her eyebrow and turned her gaze toward one of the inquisitors still standing on the Dias with them. A small frown etched across her lips. "Let Woods deal with the heretics as he sees fit."

Chapter 13 - A Righteous Fervor

There was something primordial about water, something eternal. Even if you managed to coax it back into the air it still hungered to fall back to the earth and join its brethren. Water knew of the world in a way most things never would. It was more than an outside observer, water was life.. Water knew all of your secrets.

It had taken this particular drop of water nearly four hundred years to get this far. It had tasted ash and fresh cut grass in the winds as it fell from the heavens. It swam with fish and frogs and young boys with giddy girlfriends. It had known men and monsters and roots and leaves and moss and earth. It had been one of the countless who had squirmed, fighting its way through the very rock itself, gathering minerals and sediments as it bullied its way by. It was gathered now on the precipice of its existence, unaware that once it took the first step into the open air its doom was only seconds away as it whispered the darkest secrets it had ever heard. It fell, silent into metal that shone white with heat and screamed out its secrets- secrets it had heard long ago. Secrets echoed by a chorus of water drops in the heavens above that darkened the skies far above the ground.

Across the verdant hills and beyond the safe walls of New Ravenwood a darkness had descended upon the border town of Wilds' Reach. Dim light cast gray shadows where buildings once stood and raindrops rang hollow on dead wood and empty hearths. Five weeks since mayor Riven Wilds had disappeared with rumors of an inquisition, his body had been returned with letters of the hunt from Her Governance and an army of fanatics.

"Boy, just tell me where your auntie is and I'll forget I e'er saw you."

The boy lay motionless on the ground, blood trickling from his nose and ear.

"What, no smart-ass remark this time you little puke?" His boot caught the kid in the ribs and sent him tumbling toward the well, resting with his arms in uncommon and unnatural positions.

"Fuck. You do another one?" A second soldier walked over dragging a slight struggling form behind him. He shook his head before picking the lifeless body up and dumping it into the well.

"It's not my fault. He wouldn't tell me-"

"Where she was?" The second soldier interrupted, gesturing to the girl bound hand and foot on the ground beside them.

"You little bitch. Do you know how many kids I've had to kill to find you?" The soldier grabbed her by the throat and pushed her back against the well, draping her bound hands over the crossbar for the water pail.

The second soldier sighed as he turned his back to the first. "You think you can fuck the wickedness out of her or something? You're and idiot you know that?"

The first grunted as the wet sound of fabric tearing and the girl let out a gasp of realization. "Magistrate's orders. We're to sanctify the wicked."

The second solder shook his head, and walked down the road as the roared, "Fucking bite me? You tight little whore. Bet those are tears of pleasure ain't they, you little slut?"

The second soldier wasn't there as the girl slipped her hand from the bonds and drew the knife from the belt of the first soldier. He wasn't there when the captain found the girl standing over the poor bastard after she'd opened his throat for him or when the captain declared that she was "A lying little whore" who had "bewitched him, then fucked him before she slit his throat."

By the time the second soldier had come back from his rounds the girl's broken neck hung awkwardly from her shoulders as the rain washed the indignity from her body. The water droplets fell red from her thighs as the rain clouds drifted. Across verdant hills and behind safe walls, deep under the earth a droplet of water screamed in pain as it kissed white hot metal.

Water didn't sugar coat the truth, didn't hide behind excuses. "I am Caldera, the mountain slayer," the steel sang and a chorus of mages echoed, "Saxa liquefacta, montem interficientis."

Water didn't apologize or seek forgiveness. "By my fury, mountains will tremble and give way," the steel continued and the mages rejoiced, "Per furorem meum, montes contremiscent et viam dabit."

Water didn't seek a high road when the path before it was obvious. "By my will their crowns will burst," the steel promised and the mages agreed, "Per mea voluntas coronas suas findetur."

Water took action. "Per mea manu sanguinem eorum fluent," the council vowed and Caldera whispered her agreement, "By my hand their blood will flow."

Water raged, and so would Caldera.

Chapter 14 - Consequences

After three weeks of horses, wagons, and hiking from the Governess' Estate down to the camp of these "snot nosed children," the Magistrate stood before them and flanked by half a dozen soldier while four-hundred and ninety-three more stood waiting outside of their gates. They would stop cavorting around like animals and go home to their families for their punishments, then never speak of this nonsense about magic ever again before they started a riot, or they would answer to him. The governor had given him unrestricted authority in this matter, and told him that if they refused to relent he had leave to burn the taint of their witchery from the world. He told them as much and reveled in the power he had been granted to wield. There were thirty-four children here, the youngest nineteen and the oldest a bare twenty-four. They would bend to his will or he would cut them down like stalks of sun-ripened wheat before he burned this place to the ground.

On his arrival he had announced that they were to return home of their own accord and submit to purification and had decreed that they would "all pay in service to Her Governance for the crime of practicing magic within the realm." He had already made an example of one of their number, left her to the hands of an enthusiastic supporter of the faith. She had been given the opportunity for sanctification and had decided to commit murder instead and now this, this child dared to look him in the eye as he addressed him.

"It's not our fault that someone else can't find the magic in their own lives. Nor is it our fault if someone else fears us for the magic we try to bring to every moment. There are many terrible men who have had equally terrible dreams, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world should stop dreaming," Jimm had emerged from the new library they had constructed in a ring around the forge which was the heart of New Ravenwood, and his voice reverberated across every stone and board down through the iron scales of the Magistrate's armor as if it had been struck from steel itself, "The magic and dreams and imaginations aren't good or bad by themselves, it takes people to color them by giving their actions shape and by judging their outcomes. To outlaw magic, is to outlaw dreams and imagination, and I won't stand for it."

"You-" the Magistrate quivered, his eyes pinpricks and his face flushed as he trembled in fury, "You dare to challenge my authority."

"You have no authority here," Jimm said simply, "You on the hallowed ground of New Ravenwood, in Republica, de Magia. If-"

"Kill them all!" shrieked the Magistrate to his guards. These children think they can make a fool of me, with their pretend magic!

"Like you killed Tandy?" Jimm whispered softly under his breath as a spark ignited a cold fire behind his eyes.

The Magistrate turned and ran, frenzied toward the army he had left waiting outside of the gates of this haven of evil. His legs buckled beneath him as the ground gave way, but the soldiers ringing the fledgling enclave didn't pay him any attention. "Bastards!" screamed the Magistrate, "Cowards! Kill them! Kill them all!"

"As you wish, Magistrate," Jimm whispered into the man's ear as he walked past. He let out a sharp whistle, breaking the spell that had ensorcered the eyes of the militia and drew their attention to himself and the Magistrate behind him.

"I will give any man who wished to die upon a sword the opportunity to draw it and fall upon mine before I kill the rest of you. I will not say that it will be more or less kind than what I have in store, but I grant you this honor before you die," the boy called out, "The honor of choice."

Some of the men laughed at his false bravado, after all what could a child of twenty do against battle hardened soldiers. A few of the men drew swords and steeled themselves for their orders. Their captains began to approach to help the Magistrate and ask for guidance. They hadn't been informed that any bloodshed was required on this mission. Someone, braver and more foolish than the others or perhaps wiser and much more afraid, shot toward the boy standing in front of the Magistrate with an arrow.

As Jimm clasped his hand tightly around the hilt of his blade, time seemed to slow, then stop, but in that moment between moments Jimm continued to move. He drew his sword clear from its sheath and across its platinum length were countless inscriptions, wedded to the metal in gold and silver. The largest of these inscriptions was the name of the sword itself, deep within the fuller of the blade to protect it from being marred. All of the other inscriptions referenced it to give it the strength and virtues that were promised and as it was drawn free it seemed to sing its name aloud. Lustrum syrtis, comedenti hominum. Quagmire, eater of men.

None had seen him move, but he was suddenly standing among them. Those who had drawn their blades bled from mortal wounds while the man who had drawn the bow breathed painfully in abject terror, as he looked down at three feet of gleaming metal piercing out from just below his sternum and angled slightly to the right. The runes along the edge of the blade burned hotly and the man screamed as the heat of the magic seared the wound shut before Jimm pulled Quagmire from him. Kneeling Jimm whispered to the man, "It is by this holy sword that our fair city shall always be protected. Watch well and see the fate of those who would dare attack us in our home."

The scream had drawn attention through the confusion and drawn it toward the young mage. Men were running toward them and reaching for their weapons before they stumbled. A new kind of terror filled the eyes of the men around him as they splashed through the ground as though it were muddy water, every movement drawing them deeper into the earth.

"We need not turn our sword to plowshare, for it will give to the earth any crop we so desire. Tell your governor that the southeastern corridor is now home to the Republica, de Magia and we would like to be left in peace so that we can ensure the prosperity of all," Jimm whispered to the man who lay wounded on the ground next to him as his comrades were swallowed in a sea of green and brown, "The Magistrate won't be making the return journey."

Chapter 15 - Tandy

"Threads of fate are woven but action grants them weight, Intentions color them, and our visions grant them shape.

"All things may pass or come to end, but need not seek despair, For we are the light we bring and our breath one with the air, As many countless stars shine on in the darkest night, It's from them we're born - stardust granted life.

"All life is a chain of memories that makes us who we are, And no matter how long that chain grows we're never very far, From the people of our yesterdays, the ones who we love still, Whose life was sent to help us wind these bumps and outgrown hills.

"Their smiles light us up within and we carry them with us too, And even when a day looks gray that radiance turns it blue, For light isn't a fickle thing as it reaches down from heaven's skies, And as surely as it sets the sun is soon to rise.

"A heartbeat born of a lover's kiss or the end of perfect starts, All were born of stars, and are forever in our hearts."

As Jimm's words faded he motioned for Venn to come forward to say goodbye.

Chapter 16 - Freedom

The world was cast in cold granite arches, steel poles bristling with knives, living statues, and a polished silver sphere hung in the sky. A shadow moved through the gray world, dancing in the silver light and listening to the voices of people that she once knew. The light coming from the hearts of her old friends felt warm and bright, like sunshine on a brisk summer morning as it embraced the curves of her body while she walked among them. Through the silence of the tunnels, cradled in the arms of the universe, her peace was interrupted by a curious noise, ringing faintly like a silver bell.

She turned her focus back toward the world of men and smiled as it came into focus. Darkness lit by light unseen when she was living, circles and runes woven into the very earth and stone to keep her family safe within their walls. As she drifted weightless and ethereal through the hall the walls felt solid and familiar around her. Two figures walked through her as they smiled and flirted but until she reached the alcove and found the third figure sleeping soundly it hadn't dawned on her that they couldn't hear the soft ringing noise that beckoned her.

The walls of the alcove were adorned with precious artifacts that had been rescued from vault in the Restringitur section of the library. Still cooling among them the mountain breaker, Caldera, lay three days fresh from the forge. The head and shaft of the hammer glowed red in the darkness, with runes blazing white across her. Drifting near the hammer made her feel at home. It had been Brand who she had first visited when her soul had left her body that day, he had been her beacon home with his heart blazing so brightly as he poured himself into his craft. She had stayed with them through the night, adding her voice to their promise for vengeance, but memories weren't what had roused her from her slumber. She rested her fingers on Caldera as she searched through the artifacts. The hammer sung to feel her touch again and she heard the soft bell ring in response, closer, then the crack of glass.

Through the ruddy glow of a distant light a savage smile broke across a time-forgotten face. The sweet angel on the other side of the void never stood a chance when the seduction began. Five soft fingers reached for the pulse of magic within the drifting soul and caressed a gossamer cheek. A voiceless incantation echoed empty through the space between, and as the words found meaning of their own the crack between worlds grew larger. Her hand drew the spirit down into the world she had made her own and with a kiss the fates realigned. Glowing in the embrace of a beautiful soul, twisted into a terrible mantle caught between ecstasy and agony, a dark form embraced the red light of a new world.

A bottle. A smile as sharp and deadly as a blade curved across a face unmarked by time and a soft giggle escaped from the delicate frame of the girl who stood in a soul's twisted embrace. They thought they could contain me in a bottle!

They did contain you in a bottle. She scolded herself. And they stripped you of Eclipse. Of true power. But what has been taken... Her eyes drifted to the hammer, the glow from the metal the only source of light in the room and absently she stroked the soul that clung to her. Tandy, the dark form whispered, would you like me to take your hammer with us? The soul shivered and gasped in pleasure as they reached for Caldera.

Movement. Her eyes, cold violet eyes, caught the mouse in the corner and her will called Tandy forward to deal with it. Brand keeled, unblinking eyes wide and mouth agape in a breathless, silent scream as Tandy caressed him and tugged gently on his soul. His vision clouded as the dark woman clasped the hammer and Caldera's voice filled the paired souls with familiar purpose.

Enough. She scolded her sister soul. Tandy released Brand's life back to him with a parting kiss before curling back around her mistress. The dark beauty stroked her pet's soul gently as she walked out of the alcove. Your friends will be my friends, in time. They are my brothers and sisters. And you, my sister, were their first casualty in this war. I can feel the terror you hide behind your smile. The taint still waiting to be purged away with cleansing fire. We will break the Faith and make sure they never threaten our family again.

Chapter 17 - Home

Terror wore the faces of men he had known. Grasses grew from their empty skulls as they jutted from the earth. Tree roots wove through their ribs and anchored them in the ground. Worms nibbled on their toes while they screamed. Their spirits hounded his retreat, biting at his ankles and heels. Every root that jutted from the earth was reaching for him. Every muddy puddle that sucked on his boot promised to swallow him whole. His chest ached as he heaved, the gaping hole clean and nearly as bloodless as his face, but his hands... his hands were stained with blood that would never come clean.

He didn't bother with roads or winding pathways, but rather flew as a carrion crow might, perching here and there for breath and water. Exhaustion gnawed on his subconscious like a graveworm crawling through his eye, but still he ran. Time fractured and flickered indiscriminately between day, night, and twilight and even the birds mocked him by singing the wrong songs at the wrong times. Shadows grew into creatures with sharp claws that tore at him and in every pool he saw her reflection.

Coward. He knew his sins as he committed them. He was just as guilty for the girl's fate as those who had carried out the deeds. Traitor. He had brought the wrath of magic down upon their realm through his inaction. He had been spared when everyone had been threshed like ripe wheat to give their realm one chance. The one who had approached was so calm as the earth devoured so many. So calm. He had been death himself, unbiased and unhurried as the scythe cut down those whose time had passed. Sword and plowshare both, he had planted a crop of rotting bones where an army had stood.

He ignored the well traveled roads, the townships and inns, the people. People. He had to get word back and plead for the end of what had been started. What if she won't listen to me? Unbidden, his trousers darkened with blossoming warmth. He had to get to Her Governance. He would offer his life to convince her, it was a small coin to ensure his family was safe from their wrath. He had to be close to civilization. He had to speak with her before it was-

A blinding light broke through the treeline from the west. A dusty hurricane threw him through the wood and across several trees. His body twisted unevenly, limbs snapping like sticks of kindling and his ears ached as a thunderous boom echoed past.

Rocks and splinters dug hungrily into bruised and bloodied flesh. He coughed up dirt only to breathe more of it in again. He reached out to roll his body over and screamed as agony washed away the last remnants of unconsciousness. No, screamed doesn't quite cover it. It was a primal thing, a howl caught someplace between anguish and denial, pain and foreboding. His body thrashed as he let it out and by some luck this rolled him onto his side so that he could take a better inventory of what new life lay in wait for him. Blood and dirt covered the twisted claw that his broken left hand was settling into. His right arm twisted in two directions he was fairly certain would be considered unusual and had already begun to purple. He could feel the toes on one of his feet but the other remained a mystery to him. His eyes stung with ash and soot. Soot?

His surroundings came into focus as he pushed past the pain. While one arm was broken his other hand was merely skinned, or so he prayed. It accepted his weight as he moved himself to a more seated position. As he glanced down he saw what was wrong with his other foot. He'd dislocated it once before in a training exercise but it would take time to get into a better position to set it.

The trees spoke of familiarity as he rummaged around their roots for supplies. He was near the Vale of Sylvania Emerald, perhaps in the Emerald Wood itself. It was as near the capital as he could have hoped for but with sunset on the horizon he would need to work quickly to establish himself for the night.

Whatever accident had happened would have teams checking on the Vale and if he was lucky he would be- something cold and hard caught in his throat as the soldier blinked a strange light from his eyes.

The first rays of dawn cut through the savaged treetops.

Fabula Historia

Completed Novella - Waking Dreams