☆ WATTPAD FEATURED & WATTYS 2022 SHORTLISTED ☆
[ 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙥𝙤𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙮𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙘 𝙛𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙮 𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙡 ]
❝ You are a beginning. ❞
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Sharp and opinionated Purple is one of the last residents of what's left of...
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"WHAT VISION?" DEMANDED the soldier.
"I do not know," the Wytch admitted flatly. "Visions are bestowed upon, not sought."
Adam Persad had just about had enough of her vague riddle-like responses. "And how would I go about having a vision if I can't fucking sleep?" he hissed, increasing the pressure with which he held a strip of cloth he had ripped from his shirt around his arm.
"I..." she dithered, disorientated by his sudden agitation. "I suppose you cannot...I do not give visions."
"Who does?" Adam growled.
"Wytches believe that it is Morpheus," she answered nervously. "The god of dreams. Others believe...that is through Dreamcatchers, from whomever governs the World-Weavers."
"Dreamcatchers?" he echoed.
Adam had heard of those —human-like creatures of magic who were the only species who didn't possess such abilities. They blended in well with his kind —one could only tell them apart occasionally from their hair or eye colour; and their blood of string.
To his knowledge though, Dreamcatchers had fled the Gamma Plane when the war began —and had had no incentive to return.
