16
I manhandled my way into Darius’s dream, dragging ether around me the moment I entered.
His mind was a mess of images, lights, and sounds.
With the fury and the fire of all the step classes I took in high school, I stomped and clapped my way through his mind, separating the images, lights, and sounds, spinning them off into nowhere until there was nothing around me. Just fog. And darkness.
Was the mage here?
I couldn’t tell.
Darius’s mind was still too thick for me to penetrate. A dream was forming, but it felt organic. Like the kind of dream that grows on you—the kind of dream that recaps everything you experienced before you fell asleep.
The kind of dreamless, mind-restoring sleep that everyone experienced most nights.
“If you’re here, come out and get ready to fight,” I said.
