Dream Wakers: The Veiled Prophecy (Book One)

Chapter 6

Lillian woke at sunrise to take a walk in the forest before work. She had spent most of the night peeking from underneath her covers, praying the shadow moving in her room was only her imagination. The musty smell of the church dampened her exhausted mind and she wished her haunted memories would have stayed in the city where she left them.

"It's just ridiculous," she mused to herself, scolding the fear she should have long outgrown.

The dense footing below cushioned her step and the cold air pressed against her forehead.

"Really, Lillian," she spoke to the surrounding greenery, "you must find a way to stop it. You cannot work without proper rest. Stop obsessing over it, and the dreams will fade."

Birds chirped sleepily from their cozy nests. She walked through the mist, watching tiny droplets weave between the whispering trees. Despite the dull ache in her bones, the world was at her fingertips and she slipped into the sing song pattern of procuring healing lessons from the Earth. The trees that grew above her had weathered many storms, and the dew soaked grasses had been flooded by rain on a regular basis. They had not only survived what overwhelmed them, but flourished in the aftermath. They had learned to adapt and thrive from what should have killed them. Lillian would survive and grow from her set backs as well.

When she returned home, her cheeks were flushed with rosy invigoration. She made a quick cup of tea and headed out for work. It was almost a mile to her shop, and she had grown fond of walking there. The sun was bleak in the morning light and Lillian softened to the metallic overtone it gave the world around her. The steam from her tea escaped her travel mug and warmed her lip as she sipped. Not a soul stirred in the waking of a new day. The seclusion of a small town was a gift not taken for granted and she owed it all to Aillig. He had left her everything in his will. It hadn't been much, but enough to start again.

Lillian unlocked the door to her apothecary. Customers wouldn't come for another hour, so she headed towards the back to work. Clear glass bottles fell away to darker tinctures and essential oils as she wound further into the shop, and she beamed over the varieties that stocked her oak shelves.

She twisted the knob to her procuring room, and something slipped by the corner of her peripheral vision. A tickle spread from her chest and made her arms weak. She rushed through the other side of the door, closing it quickly behind her.

Lillian pressed against the old wood, listening in the darkness for the shuffle of feet. After a moment, she sighed, shaking her head as she pulled the cord to her light.

"You are not a child anymore. No one is here to get you and there are no such things as ghosts," she scolded herself.

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes before blowing out her nerves.

"Now," she muttered, "what was it that I last dreamt of mixing?"

Lillian pulled out the notes from the last herbalism dream she'd had. The last dream with Aillig. The weight of her silky black hair swung in its plait as she plucked bottles from her shelves and lost herself to another new creation. The herbs called to her as she uncorked them, and Lillian's green eyes brightened in the depth of her mix. She could feel the herbs rise to her nose and expand towards her chest, loosening the tension in her strong walking legs. The walls of the room fell away. She could see the forest behind her house and could feel a fresh rain against the damp bark of the trees. The sun peeked gently through the density overhead and Hoot's low call was gentle in her ears. Her pupils dilated and for a second the silhouette of a man stood in front of her.

Lillian gasped and the mixing room returned to sight. She could feel her heart slamming against her chest as she blinked to gain composure, systematically reading the labels of the herbs she'd mixed. She had always created imagery of her mixing, but in all her life she had never seen a person in any of them. A last time, she looked at the bottles in front of her.

"Kava, rose hip, blue mallow. None of these should cause hallucinations," she stressed to herself.

The bell rung on the other side of her door and she glanced at the clock. Time had lapsed too quickly. She opened her procuring room and moved toward the front of her store. Though startled by the vision, her mind and body worked clearly. The new mix had successfully relieved the anxiety of shadows and old memories. Lillian shrugged to herself and prepared for another work day.

........

His eyes flew open, hoping to see her standing with him in the woods. His heart slammed dangerously against his broad chest, breaking in disappointment as the walls of the prison returned.

"What did you do?" he commanded, handing a small vile back to the old man.

"You are so dejected from the famine of war that it seems you have forgotten the heart of your own culture. You cannot recall the sacred teachings of your druids? You do not remember the very earth oils your beloved creates?"

Brightly silvered eyes shone in single minded silence. He didn't like his attention to detail challenged. Not when it came to her.

Nodding, the druid continued as he tucked the liquid away.

"The Hooded Spirits must not have had the time to explain before returning to the Isle. Sacred Heather thins the veils between time and aids your ability to reach her without relying on the realm of dreaming. Her herbs do something similar, but she doesn't know it. The synchronicity of your experiences brought you together. The connection you share with her is strong and it will need to be now that the prophecy has wakened."

"How do you know about her," the man shouted, feeling violated.

"I have lived many lives my young nobleman. I know many stories. You and she are one of them."