Iris. Not safe. Wake up. Iris.
"Go away," she mumbled, rolling over in her sleep.
Iris. Wake up. Iris.
Shh. Don't listen to them. You're safe here, Iris.
Another voice emerged from among the whispers, a voice that spoke different words. Comforting words.
A gentle hand caressed her cheek. She nuzzled into its warmth. "Char..."
It's not him. He's safe. You're not. Wake up, Iris.
"I'm trying to sleep..."
Then sleep, Iris. Sweet little Iris.
Fingers combed through her hair, their strokes rhythmic and soothing.
"Mm..."
Iris, take the amulet. You're not safe. Hold the amulet!
"I don't want it..."
This?
The chain tensed around her neck as the amulet left her chest.
Iris! Iris, wake up!
"Leave me alone," she moaned, burying her face in the pillow.
You are alone, Iris.
Warm breath tickled her ear, followed by a deep chuckle.
Alone and isolated. Just the way I want you.
"Mm..."
She furrowed her brow, the low threat working its way through her subconscious, where the whispers were screaming at her.
Iris! Wake up! Iris!
Sleep, Iris.
That voice was softer, and somehow stronger. It overwhelmed the whispers and the sense of unease, driving them out of her mind.
Sleep.
A hand pressed the amulet to her chest, leaving it there and returning to caress her cheek again.
Sweet little Iris.
Then there were no more whispers, no more voices, just a deep darkness.
Until morning came.
Bright light flooded the room. The fairies were flitting about, tying the bed curtains back, opening the drapes, lighting the wall sconces.
Iris groaned and sat up, holding her pounding head. The pain was so great, she couldn't see straight. Even the fairies' soft golden light hurt, and just watching them move made her nauseous.
But they were tugging at her sleeve, pulling her out of bed and over to the dressing screen, and she didn't have the strength to resist them.
She stumbled over her own feet, falling to her knees. Her stomach was churning. The chamberpot appeared before her just in time to catch her vomit, and even after her stomach emptied, she was still retching, dry heaving until her belly hurt and her throat burned.
When the gagging finally stopped, she sat back on her heels, holding her stomach and rocking back and forth. Everything felt worse. The cool, damp cloth wiping her lips clean and the sweat from her forehead provided little relief.
"What's going on?" she whimpered.
The knock at the door felt like a stab to her brain. She crumpled to the floor, holding her hands over her ears. The latch clicked, the sound echoing through her head.
YOU ARE READING
The Hidden Crystal
FantastikIris is an orphan, leading what she considers a normal life. As the oldest in Father John's care, she works hard to help bring in the money needed to feed and clothe the younger children, and she does it without complaint. Everybody in town knows an...
