Chapter Eight: The Dream That Bleeds
680 Words
Scene 1 – Memory in the Mouth of Fire
Ehia no longer trusted sleep.
The veil had become restless—glowing faintly at night, threads shifting when no one touched them. She tried to stay awake. Tried not to listen.
But on the third night, sleep pulled her under like the tide.
And she dreamed.
Not of the palace. Not of the bride.
> Of herself—in another time.
She stood on a cliff of red stone, a younger version of herself, barefoot, staring at a burning village below. Screams echoed through the night.
Behind her, a voice:
> “You chose the flame. Now live with the ash.”
She turned.
And saw the bride.
But her face was different. Older. Familiar.
She looked like Ehia.
Then the dream bled red.
A thousand veils flapping like wings.
And fire raining from the sky.
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Scene 2 – The Council Divides
At dawn, the palace awoke to chaos.
The elders had gathered in the high courtyard. Word had spread that the veil had been damaged, and half the noble houses blamed the bride.
“She is cursed!” shouted Elder Boku. “She brings storms and silence!”
“She passed the fire!” snapped Elder Meji. “She holds the gods’ favor!”
“She is not of us,” another hissed.
The Oba sat silent, his face tight with war between duty and desire.
Ehia was called to speak.
She stepped forward, her voice even.
“If we break the veil before it is finished, the spirits will finish it for us—and they are not kind.”
A hush fell.
Then the Queen Dowager rose slowly, leaning on her gold staff.
> “Let her finish,” she said. “But if the veil chooses wrong, I will burn it myself.”
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Scene 3 – The Secret Room
Later that evening, Nso pulled Ehia aside.
“There’s something you should see,” the girl whispered, leading her down a hidden passage behind the weavers’ hall.
They stopped at a stone wall. Nso pressed her fingers against a faint leopard mark.
Click.
The wall opened into a narrow chamber lined with ancient silk scrolls.
“Your mother came here often,” Nso said. “She never let anyone see what she was working on.”
Ehia unrolled a scroll.
It wasn’t a weaving.
It was a map.
Drawn in gold thread. Marking three sites beyond the city.
One marked with a spiral.
Another with a fire.
The last… with two veiled women standing back to back.
Beneath it was a word in old tongue:
> “Reunion.”
Ehia’s fingers trembled.
This wasn’t just about marriage.
It was about binding history.
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Scene 4 – The Bride Confronts Her
That night, as thunder built over the palace, the bride came again.
No guards. No warning.
She walked straight into Ehia’s loom chamber, her veil soaked with rain.
Ehia didn’t flinch.
“You ruined the cloth,” she said coldly.
The bride’s lips curled. “I revealed its truth.”
“You’re afraid,” Ehia said. “Because it’s choosing me.”
The bride moved closer. “You think you are special because it speaks to you?”
“It sings to me,” Ehia said. “And it screams when you’re near.”
A beat.
Then the bride leaned in, whispering something only the veil could hear:
> “She remembers.”
The veil twitched.
And then—
It bled.
A drop of red from its center.
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Scene 5 – The Spiral Site
The next morning, Ehia slipped from the palace before first bell.
She followed the map, riding a quiet mule along the cliff’s edge until she reached the spiral stone carved deep into the hill.
There, in the center of the circle, lay a broken loom.
Not hers. Ancient.
And at its center—
> A single thread of firegold silk.
She touched it.
The ground shifted beneath her.
And the whisper returned:
> “Finish it... or she will.”
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- Writer
