The Dreamfarer

8

Mae paled, but she didn't just feel the blood draining from her face; her body sent all of the stuff to her feet, and from there she imagined it seeping throughout the floor below her, gradually staining the blue a bright but dark red.

"He... My mother told us that he was a warlock, but--"

"Do not blame your mother for withholding the information from you, Maeve," Folco interjected, his voice full of distaste. "After she realized what Dael was, on that day she came across him in what you call your Congregational room, he took the memory from her. Apparently, as her body began to die and her mind began to unravel in her last moments, his enchantment over her broke, and she remembered."

This time she was sure she wasn't imagining it. Her fury was so profound that stains of red spread out from the spots where her feet were touching the ground. The scarlet continued to crawl as her chest heaved with labored breaths, as her stomach boiled with rage. She knew she had to restrain herself, reign in her anger to use at another, more appropriate time, but it was easier said than done.

Her father was not her father at all. He was a traitor and a liar and maybe even a murderer. 

When she found the control necessary to look up once more, she saw that there was not a single trace of blue left in the place, save for the tiny specks of ultramarine that were her eyes.

Folco was nodding, one side of his mouth tilted up in a slight smile. "Very good, Maeve."

Mae felt her nostrils flare. "This isn't very good. You're telling me that my father never cared about any of us! That he was only playing a role throughout my entire life, just to serve his own twisted ends, whatever those may be," she hissed. The second part almost came out in the form of a question, and Folco bit down on his cheek again.

"That's not all true, Maeve. You see... Dael does care about you."

"Why?" Mae finally exploded, her voice rising into a shout as she pushed her face towards Folco's. "Why would he care about me and not my mother? Actually, I think the better question would be, why does he care about me and not Vivienne? We're twins! It doesn't make sense!"

Folco remained frozen for a few more heartbeats, his warm breath blowing a couple stray strands of hair away from her eyes. Then, just as she realized how very close they had become, he took a single step back.

"That, I cannot tell you yet, and not just because I don't want to push my luck with disobeying Kroma. You are not ready to fully comprehend the lengths Dael went to in order to create you, Maeve, and you may think you desire to hear what his plans were from there, but you do not. Not yet," Folco said faintly. His voice was as soft as the sand between her toes in the first dream she traveled to, and it soothed her troubled mind.

"But you will tell me eventually?" she asked. The question was a test, and Folco smiled, his teeth glowing red as he looked down at her with joy in his eyes.

"I promise you, Maeve, I will tell you everything you are curious about, and once I run out of things to teach you, we can learn more together," he replied. The grin only grows larger when he adds, "I take it, then, that you are planning on leaving with us? That you are going to come study with me amongst the warlocks?"

Mae stood still for what felt like a long while, her mind running through all of her options, through all of the pros and cons and doing what Folco proposed and journeying away from Swynborough. Finding adventure in the great unknown and learning just what she was capable of as a Dreamfarer. 

"What about my sister?" she asked quietly. That was the hardest thing for her to consider: leaving Vivienne. Especially now, when their mother just passed. She and her sister had never been separated for longer than a single night before in their entire lives, and neither of them had ever ventured past Swynborough's gates. Not many citizens ever did; what lay beyond the gates was a mystery to the most of the inhabitants of their city, and the mystery had spawned many terrifying tales over the years. It was commonly believed that if you left the city and didn't make it back in before sundown, you would never return at all.