Casey Anderson isn't expecting much from her Mark - but when her soulmate turns out to be Prince August, the boy next in line for the throne, everything changes.
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In a world much like our own, Casey Anderson is trying to navigate her senior...
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This time, the dream sticks with me a little longer. Once, sure. I can excuse one weird dream. But twice? Practically in a row, with the same details, the same setting? It just feels...
I don't know. It feels important, with also feels ridiculous to think. I mean, it's just a dream.
Right?
I rub the sleep out of my eyes as I turn over in bed, burying my head in my pillow. It's light out, and I try to muster the energy to look at my phone for the time.
It's 7:29. The alarm I set last night is going to go off in approximately one minute. I fiddle for a moment, squinting through sleep-deadened eyes, and turn it off, before rolling onto my back.
Then I blink my eyes open again and sit bolt upright, hands clutched tight in the sheets. Because the ceiling of the room -
The ceiling of the room is covered in thorny branches. They wind up the walls and over my bed, dark leaves and thick stems.
The floor is dirt, dark and reddish like an open wound, roots like white bone tracing their way across the room.
I blink, then blink again. It doesn't go away.
Did I do this?
I must have. I must have - the dream must have been vivid enough for me to manifest this, for the terror to burst from my head and give birth to the forest eating the room alive.
I take a deep breath. I did this, and I can fix it.
I have to fix it.
Another deep breath. Close my eyes. I'm tired, out of breath - I would have said it was from the dream, but now I wonder if this is part of the cost of using the magic as well. If it takes something from me too.
I picture my room the way it was before - the pristine walls, opulent woven carpet, sunlight spilling from a window unchoked by thorny branches.
I slide my hands over the covers, feeling the dirt and leaves and imagining instead the thick quilt, soft enough to be a cloud.
And then I open my eyes.
So far, I've been pretty lucky with magic. Not that I've tried to use it much - I've been to scared, too hesistant. But it's always done what I've wanted - or rather, I've always been able to undo what I, for the most part, did unconsciously.
Apparently, that was either a fluke or beginner's luck, or maybe it's just the fact that I've never done anything as big as this before. Not to mention that I'm already tired.
Whatever the reason, the room, though considerably less forest-like than it was a moment ago, is not back to it's usual state.
Far from it, in fact: I've managed to get rid of the dirt that had been covering the floor, the bed, and most other surfaces, but remnants of the thorny branches remain.
