Redemption

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Unknown Connection

I bolted upright in the truck, gasping for air. Micah and Fletcher stared at me with wide eyes and worried looks, as I let out sobs of terror. They tried to console me, to convince me that I was alright, but I was still recovering from the nightmare and didn't hear what they said.

"I killed him!" I panted. "I killed that boy!"

"What are you talking about?" Micah asked, his face filled with concern.

"They didn't know anything! Why would I do that? They didn't know anything!" I exclaimed, wiping the perpetual streams of sweat and tears from my face.

The sight of Micah and Fletcher hovering nearby, trying to calm me down, helped bring me back to reality. Despite how real it felt, I was not the deep-voiced man on the throne who was brutally murdered people for information. I was Alexis Thompson who, until recently, had no idea this type of power even existed, let alone how to use it. Reminding myself of this helped ease my hysteria.

After several minutes of sobbing, I was finally able to tell Micah and Fletcher about the nightmare, leaving no detail out. I mentioned the young family who shook with fear. I described the powerful feeling of sitting on the throne, and my pleasure at watching the family tremble, completely at my mercy. I explained that I murdered the boy in cold blood by using dark magic on him.

"It's like I was there, but I wasn't. It wasn't my voice or my body that conjured the spell, yet I could feel the power coursing through me as though it were my magic," I admitted, remembering how natural the darkness seemed.

Worst of all, I remembered feeling pleased watching the pain I inflicted on the child and his family. "It was obvious that they didn't have any information. If they did, they would have given it up to save their son. I just don't understand why he would still kill that boy... why I would kill him."

"It was just a bad dream, Alexis," Micah said reassuringly.

"It wasn't a dream, though. It was... more. I could feel the cold metal of the chair beneath me, the heaviness of the gold ring on my finger, the magic that flowed through my hands as I took that boy's life," I said, shaking my head as though I could shake the memories from my mind.

As I spoke, I found myself feeling increasingly more embarrassed and ashamed to repeat the dream. I feared that they would laugh at my eccentric dreams, or worse, would grow frightened of the dark thoughts forming in my head. What if they decided they wanted nothing to do with me, that I was becoming too much like my parents, and that they should leave before it was too late?

"That's impossible, Alexis. You haven't moved from this truck. We've kept watch all night," Micah reassured me.

Fletcher, on the other hand, didn't look so sure.

"I need you to tell me everything one more time, down to the smallest details," he said earnestly.

I shook my head, and my pupils dilated in fear; I didn't want to relive those events again.

"I know that it's hard," Fletcher said, grabbing my hand and rubbing it comfortingly. "But it's important."

I took several deep breaths, bracing myself, before delving back into the dream. I gave an impressive amount of detail, down to the color of the stone in the ring, and the fog rolling in on the green hills beyond the window. I knew the metallic smell of the iron throne, the sounds of the guards' armor as they shuffled. What sort of dream would linger in my memories so long and with so much clarity?

"What is it?" I asked, seeing my own anxieties reflected on Fletcher's face.

"I think you're right; this wasn't just a dream. I think it was a vision. Many people don't realize this, but visions come in many forms. You can have visions of the future and the past like your mother did, but very rarely, a witch with the gift of sight can also see through another's eyes.