Nezzar

Part One: The Exchange

It was midnight when Hazael began.

Within the circle of a dozen black candles and intricate chalk symbols and lines, Hazael sat crossed-legged. It was dreadfully cold in Albisin's secret study but Hazael did not attempt to start a fire. It would be unwise to leave evidence of his unsupervised presence.

A large worn scroll lay spread before him, its content bearing ancient rites on how to conduct a different type of dream-walking.

Tonight, Hazael had a target. Daniel. As the head eunuch had promised several weeks ago, the best of the noble-born had been given a tour of the city, complete with the freedom to commune with the locals. The Judean boy and his friends were the only ones who enjoyed the benefit. As for the favour Hazael had asked of Daniel, the boy had blatantly ignored his existence since their meeting at the dining area.

Hazael resisted the urge to descend into anger. It was better to conserve his mental strength for what lay ahead. What he was about to attempt was risky. Yes, Abilsin had taught him how to astral project and he had practised twice under strict supervision, but Hazael had no guidance regarding projecting into a person's dream. And there was the possibility of slipping into madness should he make the wrong move.

Drawing a strong long breath, Hazael took in the smell of burning wax, smoking sage, and stale air. Then he exhaled and loosened his shoulders.

When his eyes fell shut, he began the incantation. At first, nothing felt out of the ordinary but he pressed on. His voice remained even, the words foreign on his tongue but pronounced in the exact cadence he'd heard Abilsin use.

Then it happened with the same suddenness he had felt the two times he had projected under Abilsin's watchful gaze. Hazael's eyes were shut but also open. The only part of his physical body that moved was his lips. The incantation continued pouring forth in the same flat tone.

The first time Hazael witnessed his body sitting still while his spirit hovered above, roaring panic had snatched him back into his body. That was not the case today. There was no panic, instead, his practised calm remained. Not wishing to waste a moment, Hazael compelled his lips to mention the name of the destination he desired to appear. It was past midnight already. Surely, Daniel would be asleep.

With a rippling blur, Hazael appeared within the Judean boys' quarters. His feet floated over the marble walkways as he traced a finger across the white granite walls and lit bronze lamps. There was a large bath chamber down the corridor to his left. Hazael paused, taking in the polished stone slabs, waterwork pipes, and silver jars containing soaps and oils. Envy raised its head but Hazael knocked it back down, refusing to be distracted.

Turning away, Hazael sighted the sign. A black crescent, dripping like it had been hastily painted over the last door to his right. Too easy. Hazael floated through the wall of the room. There was a sleeping form beneath the open window across the door. Hazael drew closer.

Daniel slept on his side, bedsheet pulled to his chin and hands tucked beneath his pillow. A small satisfied smile grazed Hazael's lip. How helpless indeed. Perhaps, he would destroy the boy's mind after he got what he came for.

Hazael stretched a hand. If he could just—

"What are you doing?"

Snatching his hand away, Hazael whipped around and gaped.

There was a glowing being before him. His robe was white and shone so brightly that Hazael had to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the onslaught.

"Does my light bother you?" he asked with a chuckle. "You may look now."