Wyvern Tails and Phoenix Feathers

The Daughters, Chapter 6 - Annette

Her eyes were open and her vision was hazy. She was a little girl, but she didn't know why. A nagging memory suggested that she was older, but that couldn't be true. As she sat on the edge of her bed, her feet were dangling above the floor. Tiny silk flats kicked beneath the hem of her little blue dress; her hair was curled and decorated in ribbons. The sky was white outside her bedroom window but her room was blue. Everything was too blue.

In the distance, she heard an unusual sound, rhythmic and familiar, yet unnerving. Whip, puncture, friction, tug, whip, puncture, friction, tug.

The door to her room opened. Magister Toras entered, followed by grandfather. They were young as well; Magister Toras still had a full head of hair and her grandfather hadn't developed the hunch in his posture or need for his cane. He was able to crouch in front of her, though his knees popped. There was pain on his face.

"I'm sorry, Annette," he said. "Your mother; she's not well."

The rhythmic sound continued just behind her ears. She turned her head but only saw blue stone walls. What was that maddening sound?

"Where did mum go?" she asked.

"To a place where she can rest and get better," her grandfather replied. "You can still visit her."

"I want her here with me," said Annette. She crossed her arms, but she knew no amount of pouting would give her what she wanted. Not this time.

Magister Toras bent to her eye level. He wore a look of practiced sympathy.

"She'll always be with you," he said.

Annette wanted to kick him in the chin, but the disturbing noise was so pervasive, she could hardly focus. But she recalled suddenly what sound she was hearing; it was old embroidery thread scraping through dense wool.

When she turned her head again, the room had changed. She was no longer in her childhood bedroom, but in Magister Toras's office. He was pacing in front of a wall made of dark stretched canvas. Her mother was suspended, bound to the wall by a thick cord. A large needle punched through the cloth and dove around her body, slowly mummifying her.

"Please no," her mother begged. "Let me stay. I'll be good. Let me be with my daughter."

"You've dug too deep, Lin," said Magister Toras. "You brought this on yourself."

The needle plunged right beside her ear and blindfolded her eyes with the cord. She screamed.

"Please! Annette!"

Annette tried to run; she desperately wanted to help her mother, but in one step she was falling. She tumbled into open air, her body twisting and contorting before landing on hard dirt and dried leaves. She was back in the vineyard outside of Daronis Setti's tower. Before she could stand, she noticed she was sandwiched between corpses. To her left, Renard was naked and charred. To her right, Oran Highwater was pale and poisoned with foam leaking from his mouth.

It was an odd sensation to know she was dreaming, but not able to wake up. She felt as though she was suffocating. The corpses of Oran and Renard stared into her eyes.

"Get up," said a voice.

Annette wrenched her head up from the earth, but it was the only part of her body that she could move. The blue woman Vulka was seated cross-legged on a lounge chair. She appeared more annoyed than concerned. Still, of any of the women in the heath, Annette was glad to find Vulka had come to her rescue. She struggled to execute the woman's command. Her body was still motionless.

"I can't," she said.

"You're only dreaming," said Vulka.

"I know, it's just-"