4.Waking World
1418 Words
I exhaled slowly, running a hand through my long, thick obsidian hair until the familiar motion steadied my breathing.
"It's just a nightmare, Aezania," I whispered, chastising myself. "Nothing more."
The words sounded far more convincing in my head than they did aloud.
I glanced toward the bedside table.
The crystal remained exactly where I'd left it, nestled beside the tiny vase of white daisies.
Still.
Ordinary.
It almost made me laugh.
"You've managed to frighten yourself over a rock."
Shaking my head, I reached for the small clay pitcher beside my bed and poured myself a cup of cool water.
The first sip soothed the dryness in my throat.
The second slowed the frantic pounding in my chest.
"There," I murmured. "See? Everything's fine."
I set the cup down and stole another glance at the crystal.
Nothing.
No heartbeat.
No voice.
No strange smoke twisting inside its polished surface.
Just a black stone catching the moonlight.
"I blame Azure."
The corner of my mouth twitched.
"If he hadn't told me those ridiculous stories about the Crystal of Chaos, I wouldn't be dreaming about mysterious voices."
The thought eased the last of my unease.
Dreams had a funny way of borrowing from the day's events.
I'd spent the afternoon hearing tales about No Man's Land.
Of course my imagination had woven them together.
It was perfectly sensible.
...Mostly.
I rose from the bed anyway.
Crossing the room barefoot, I picked up the crystal once more.
It was cool against my skin.
Nothing unusual.
Holding it up to the moonlight streaming through the window, I turned it this way and that.
The silver wisps rested motionless inside.
"Well," I said softly, feeling rather foolish for speaking to it, "you're certainly quieter now."
Silence greeted me.
I smiled to myself.
"Good."
Setting it back on the bedside table, I adjusted the little vase of daisies beside it before pulling the curtains together just enough to
soften the moonlight flooding my room.
The cottage had settled into the deep stillness that came only in the middle of the night.
Somewhere downstairs, the old grandfather clock chimed.
One...
Two...
Three.
Three in the morning.
"No wonder I'm dreaming nonsense," I muttered.
A yawn escaped me.
The warmth of my blankets suddenly sounded far more appealing than standing barefoot on cold wooden floors arguing with my own imagination.
I climbed back into bed, nestling beneath the quilts with a contented sigh.
This time, sleep was slower to come.
I found myself staring at the ceiling, replaying those two impossible words.
Little Heart.
The voice had sounded...
Lonely.
The realization caught me off guard.
It hadn't been angry.
Or cruel.
If anything...
It had carried a weariness so profound that even remembering it made something inside my chest ache.
I frowned into the darkness.
"Whoever you are..."
I whispered to no one at all,
"...I hope you find your way home."
The words slipped out before I could think better of them.
A strange thing to say after a nightmare.
Embarrassed, even though no one had heard me, I buried my face into the pillow.
"I'm talking to dreams now."
With a quiet huff of laughter, I closed my eyes once more.
Within minutes, my breathing evened.
Sleep reclaimed me.
Outside...
The night remained peaceful.
Inside the little cottage...
Nothing stirred.
But deep beneath No Man's Land...
In a prison older than memory...
A man bound by celestial chains slowly lifted his head.
For the first time in millions of years...
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"...Home..."
The word was barely a breath.
Yet every ancient rune carved into the walls of his prison flickered once...
As though they, too, had heard her.
The first thing I heard was birdsong.
Soft, cheerful chirps filtered through the open window, accompanied by the familiar rustle of leaves dancing in the morning breeze.
Golden sunlight stretched lazily across my bedroom floor, warming the quilts tangled around my legs.
For a blissful moment...
I forgot about the dream.
I lay there listening to the peaceful sounds of the Sunlands waking around me—the distant crow of a rooster, the faint bleating of
sheep somewhere across the valley, and the rhythmic clink of someone already hard at work in the neighboring cottage.
Home.
Safe.
A smile found its way onto my lips.
Then...
Little Heart.
My eyes flew open.
The words echoed through my mind with startling clarity.
Not loud.
Not haunting.
Simply... there.
I stared at the wooden ceiling above me for several long moments before letting out a slow breath.
"It was a dream."
Saying it aloud somehow made it easier to believe.
I pushed the quilts aside and swung my feet onto the floor.
The cool wood beneath my toes grounded me immediately.
Crossing the room, I pulled open the curtains completely.
Morning flooded inside.
The gardens below were already alive with butterflies drifting between lavender bushes, and beyond them the endless green hills rolled toward the horizon beneath a cloudless sky.
Beautiful.
Ordinary.
Exactly as it should be.
My gaze drifted to the bedside table.
The crystal sat where I'd left it.
Silent.
Unremarkable.
I picked it up.
Cool.
Smooth.
Nothing more than polished black stone.
"...You're causing entirely too much trouble for something that fits in my hand."
I slipped it into the drawer beside my bed.
"You're staying there today."
Satisfied with my decision, I dressed quickly in a soft sage-green dress, braided the front sections of my long black hair away from my face while leaving the rest cascading freely down my back, and hurried downstairs.
The comforting scent of fresh bread greeted me before I even reached the kitchen.
Grandmother stood by the counter kneading dough with practiced hands, humming quietly beneath her breath.
She looked up the moment I entered.
"There she is."
"Good morning."
I crossed the room and kissed her cheek.
"Mmm."
She smiled.
"Good morning, little star."
She reached up to smooth a stray strand of hair away from my face.
Then...
Her smile faded ever so slightly.
Not enough for most people to notice.
I noticed.
"What?"
Instead of answering, she studied me for another heartbeat.
"You didn't sleep well."
It wasn't a question.
I blinked.
"...Was it that obvious?"
"You've had those little shadows beneath your eyes since you came downstairs."
I instinctively touched beneath one eye.
"I suppose I was tossing about a bit."
"A bad dream?"
I hesitated.
It felt silly now that the sun was shining.
"It wasn't... bad exactly."
"No?"
I leaned against the counter.
"It was just strange."
Her hands slowed against the dough.
"Tell me."
I let out a quiet laugh.
"I dreamed I was in the flower meadows."
"A pleasant beginning."
"It was."
I smiled faintly.
"Then that crystal Azure gave me appeared."
For the briefest instant...
Her fingers stopped moving altogether.
So briefly that, had I blinked, I might have missed it.
"The crystal?"
"Mhm."
"I picked it up..."
I frowned, trying to remember every detail.
"...and I heard a heartbeat."
Grandmother remained silent.
"So I held it to my ear."
Still she said nothing.
"There was a voice."
That finally made her lift her eyes to mine.
"A voice?"
I nodded.
"It only said two words."
"What words?"
I laughed awkwardly.
"This is going to sound ridiculous."
"Aezania."
Her tone was gentle.
"What did it say?"
I looked down at the wooden floor.
"...Little Heart."
The kitchen fell strangely quiet.
Even the birds outside seemed farther away.
When I finally looked back up...
Grandmother was smiling.
But it wasn't quite the same smile as before.
It was careful.
Measured.
"As dreams often are," she said softly, returning her attention to the bread dough. "Our minds borrow pieces of the day and weave
stories from them."
"I know."
"The market."
"The crystal."
"The tales Azure told you."
She dusted a little flour from her hands.
"It seems your imagination simply stitched them together."
I nodded.
"That's what I thought."
"And yet..."
I smiled sheepishly.
"The voice felt so real."
Grandmother reached across the counter and took my hands into hers.
Her palms were warm from the kitchen.
"My sweet girl."
"There are many things in this world that sound real while we sleep."
She squeezed my hands gently.
"But dreams only have as much power as we choose to give them."
I smiled.
"I know."
"You'll forget it by tomorrow."
"I probably will."
She smiled again.
"Good."
I believed her.
I always did.
- Writer
