Radicle (Terminal trilogy #2, can stand alone)

Dream skin

The sun had gone down, but navigation was made easy by the light-panels that lined the roofs in the inner sphere. We made our way back soon enough, and I tried to settle into bed. But I couldn't sleep.

It was hard to sneak out of the house. The wood was creaky and breakable, and we all slept in the same room. But it must have been deep night, for no one was awake. I slunk outside and aimlessly wandered the streets for a few moments. A couple of guards were out as well, keeping watch, and several were also pacing the streets.

I turned and made my way to the woodland. It was gated off with a series of white pained sticks that were more symbolic in nature. Only woodsmen and foragers were supposed to head into the woods. Anyone else and illicit activities would start spawning there- not like they didn't already, of course. But the men who stalked the woods at night took care to keep hidden, so if I was accompanied I did not know.

There was a rather beautiful spring deep in the forest, right in the midst of the river. I had been there at least once, but I did not know when that had been. I just knew where it was without thinking.

The water was cold, black and green. I took off my clothes. The hair on my legs stood up the moment my toes entered the water. By the time I was in I was already shivering- but in a few sweet passings, I was used to the sensation. I lay back and closed my eyes and just floated- the night was dark, after all, and there was very little starlight.

I breathed out and it was almost like ice. I could sleep like this- and so, I did.

But then I was dreaming.

And while I did occasionally dream, I had been warned to wake as soon as I could- dreams were dangerous places, the realm of the dangerous succubi and the falsifying demons. Anything you saw or heard in a dream was sure to have been planted there. Even the occurrence of having a dream was a bad thing- everyone knew those who were loyal to Michael were never plagued by the illness of dreaming.

I was sitting in a field- so far, so good- but I soon noticed something was wrong. Down below, in the distance, there was a gathering of ghost lights, keenly unnatural and deadly to the serenity of the stars. And next to me there was... a girl? But something was wrong with her. I couldn't figure it at first, but then I remembered. A child. Angels could not have children. I had almost forgotten that they even existed. Or had I ever known?

The girl child had small flowers in her hair in purple and white, and a smattering of freckles across her face. Her hair was a sort of murky blonde, and she was laughing gleefully. She turned to face me and her smile widened-

What sort of devilcraft was this?

I stood up. I was being punished for fleeing my house, that was it. I had to wake up and return back before Michael got angrier.

Usually when I dreamt, I woke by killing myself in some way. But I didn't have my sword with me in this dream. The ring on my finger was entirely useless. I tried my wings, but they were missing too- was Michael really this angry with me? I was going to have to beg for his forgiveness.

It was hard to move in this dream. Everything was so slow, and it was like I had to move on a path. I simply wasn't able to head off in some areas at all. Just up the hill, down the hill.

There were explosions in the sky, but they didn't kill me. I was sitting down again suddenly, and I felt my face force itself to smile.

Had I come to Hell early? All the words that were spoken were drowned out by the explosions. I had to laugh though-this dream wouldn't let me do anything else. Finally everything ceased: the night, the explosions, and the sky itself.