The Fire Within

Dream

The moon sat high in the sky, a red tint notifying all that the blood moon was upon them. It shone down on a stone altar, candles casting a faint glow around the forest clearing.

Upon the table, a figure struggled, it's arms and legs bound and head covered by a hood. From the whimpering it was no doubt a woman.

Surrounding the clearing were hundreds of figures, some masked, some cloaked and some dressed in everyday attire. At the head of the circle there stood a man.

His long, lavish robes and painted face revealed that he was none other than the leader of this group. He walked slowly, his robes disturbing the dry colorful leaves of Fall. He approached the young woman, his demeanor cool and collected as someone else appeared at his side.

Sister Winifred bowed, her hands revealing a carved dagger. He took it gently 8m his gloved hands and let his eyes fall back to the lamb before him.
It had to be done, it needed to be done. They would be saved, all of them.

Without breathing he threw his arm downward, ready to plant the knife straight into her stomach. Her hand however, broke free and caught his wrist. Surprise bolted through him as his eyes fell to her face. There staring back at him was Evelyn, her eyes wide.

“Tobias?” she cried.

Papa shot straight up out of his dead sleep. A cry escaped his lips, so sudden he even surpised himself with it. Falling back into his blankets he exhaled deeply, his bare hand flying to his chest.

His heart thumped angrily against his chest as he fought to remember his dream. Winnie, Evelyn, the Dark Rite. Yet as he lay in his bed, the images from his dream floated like the night outside his window.

A firm knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Papa said, his voice bristled with sleep. Ithica appeared, her dark hair pulled into a braid.

“Papa is everything alright? I heard you cry.” Ithica started gently, walking over to him. She placed her candle on his night table and smoothed his bedclothes.

“Yes, I am fine. You shouldn't trouble yourself.” Papa said, gesturing to the adjustments she was making.

“It's my duty to take care of you.” she reminded softly. Papa smiled slightly.

“Now what did you dream about?” Ithica asked, rounding the bed and taking a seat facing him. Papa sighed, running a hand down his bare face.

“It's all a blur. I dreamed as if we were in the Old Times, before the Vale, before my father. I was performing the Dark Rite and the lamb, she was--” Papa broke off, his voice faltering. Ithica exhaled deeply, knotting her fingers.

“Evelyn?” she inquired softly. He nodded.

“Something's different though. It is as if the wind has shifted. You don't think,” Papa started, looking to Ithica for her opinion.

She knew exactly what he was speculating, yet the Princess had been missing for years now. Nothing in her bones suggested this day would be any different from the rest. Ithica's brows furrowed as she scanned the stone walls around them.

“No, Papa. I'm sorry but I don't think she's coming back.” Ithica responded truthfully, her shoulders falling. Papa, who had been sitting up to hear her reply slumped against the headboard.

“You should try to get some rest,” Ithica suggested, standing. Papa shook his head.

“Dawn will be here soon. I'll stay up.” he replied, pushing away his covers and approaching his chair by the fireplace. Ithica sighed and grabbed her candle.