The Dreamer's Blood

Chapter 4: Written Words

Chapter 4: Written Words

"Willden," said a voice. The room was very dark, lit only with a couple dim candles. The air was cold and I felt my hand brush against an icy stone wall behind me. "They will be taken to Willden." The voice sounded familiar and I remembered it belonging to a black haired woman with a scar from a dream I once had. Suddenly recalling the dream, I shrunk back against the wall.

The woman's face became more visible in the darkness when she took one of the candles and held it close to her. She reached with her free hand to a nearby table. There were several stacked books and some vials holding strange, colored liquid. She took one with a deep purple fluid into her white hand and handed it to a cloaked stranger across from her. He reached out and accepted the vial.

"Drink this," the woman said. "Then prepare to depart. Skrill has a wyrm ready for you."

"Thank you, Priestess," the stranger raised the vial and drank the liquid.

"And remember, another mistake will not be acceptable. You shall destroy him this time, along with all of Estile."

"Yes, Priestess. I shall not disappoint you again."

"Make sure of it. Otherwise you will be taking his place in Felhiem." The stranger nodded, turned, and disappeared into the darkness. I heard a heavy door close behind him.

There was a pause as the woman set the candle back down onto the table. Then she raised her head and called into the darkness, "You may come out now." At first I thought she was talking to me and I flinched as I stood ready to make a run for it, but then I saw something shift in the far right corner of the room. A person stepped out and slowly made their way towards the woman.

"Me? You want me?" the person asked. My eyes widened as I instantly recognized the boy's voice.

No, it can't be . . .

He stepped into the dim light of the candle.

"Yes, you," the woman replied as a smile spread across her face. I watched in horror as Skip's eyes turned from light brown to glassy black.

* * * * * * * *

I was fed up with these dreams and, as lame as it may sound, being scared out of my mind.

The library was closed after school on Thursdays so I turned to the next best thing, the Internet. I sat down with my laptop and a can of soda and typed "dream meanings" into the search engine. Losing blood signifies loss of strength, paralysis represents helplessness, and a knife is emotional conflict. Darkness, to my absolute surprise, represents nothing positive at all. A forest signifies being lost, mountains are obstacles, and grasslands represent my feelings about how good or bad a situation is. Well that's helpful. Strangers are new experiences, evil people are negativity, and demons signify that my personality is noticeably antagonistic to anything positive. So now I feel like crap. Thanks a lot, dreambible.com. I didn't even bother attempting to search "best friend turns to the dark side at the hands of an evil woman." I can come up with my own depressing meaning for that, thanks.

I slammed my laptop shut in frustration and walked over to the bathroom to change the Band-Aid on my neck. I had told my parents that a frisbee had hit me in gym class. It was a very sharp Frisbee. I knew it was stupid, but it was the best I could come up with. The truth would have left me under house arrest for the rest of the year.

I crouched down to reach a low cupboard and grab a fresh Band-Aid. I stood back up and when I looked into the mirror to see what I was doing, I discovered something rather disturbing. Written across the mirror in either paint or blood, I didn't really care to know which, were the words 'Okven ett San'wor.' The surprise of the dripping, red letters caught me so off guard that I toppled backwards, tripping into the bathtub, and put my hands up just in time to catch the falling shower curtain.