Chapter 44: DreamscapeINSTEAD OF BEING drawn in, I’ve pulled the dreamscape to me. I can end this. I will end this. I see it all now: the threads, the way they wrap and bind, muddying the scene with braided, entwined longings when really, each has a single source.
It’s so simple. It’s our longings—literally our dreams—that kill us. I can see it through the shadowy fog of the Mara. I see the insubstantial vision of a single dancer’s dream, bound to him in threads of wanting that the beasts chase back and use to tear him apart.
I take the thread and pull, tugging it away from the Mara. The dancer wakes, shrugging off his dream and continuing almost without missing a beat.
The Mara go after another victim. This time, I twist the length of the thread to loop around them in a noose. When I d
