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That night, after hours of struggling to get to sleep, I fell into a fitful doze and dreamed of Celeste.
The witch was walking along an empty beach, her long hair blowing about in the wind. It was nighttime, and the ocean was a huge dark mass that seemed to flow seamlessly into the sky. However, I could see Celeste clearly because of the faint glow that emanated from her skin. I still wasn’t used to seeing Celeste in her true form; I had come to associate her with an old crone partially hidden by a cloak, not a tall, beautiful woman in an elaborate gown.
For once, it didn’t seem as if Celeste could even see me. At least, she wasn’t looking at me. That was a little strange in and of itself. Even stranger, she was talking to another person who walked beside her on the beach. It was a t
