They’re still about Diran, so I don’t really want to talk about them. This one was only different because it was about the Black Burrows, too. Usually, my dreams revolve around the Eastern Tower, but last night, they decided to dredge up old memories of me loosing my arrow into Diran’s back on my very first assignment.
“Just... more vivid,” I say. “Cancassi said the tincture did the same thing to them. I sleep, but... it’s not exactly restful.”
Arlon makes a quiet noise of sympathy. “You don’t have to do this sending spell, Dom,” he says gently. “You can just sleep if you need to.”
I straighten, shivering as the plug shifts inside of me. “No, no, I’m fine. I can do it.”
Arlon’s eyes search me before he sighs. “Alright. Galiva will be back from the palace in a couple of hours. Rest until then.”
I nod before I gratefully retreat under Arlon’s desk. The small space has accumulated a few more pillows in the months I’ve been home. It’s a comfortable kind of nest, and I bite back a moan as I settle into it, the plug rubbing in just the right way. I lay down before I grab a pillow, resting it against Arlon’s boot.
The teasing haze of pleasure never quite goes away, but I’m able to doze in spite of it. And at least for a while, my fragmented dreams are peaceful.
They meander in that nonsensical way until I’m in the heart of the Crux, surrounded by gently glowing magiline on all sides. Tendrils of the glowing stone seem to reach through the earth, spreading like roots. The stone hums a long, low note that seems to resonate with something in me. An unfamiliar but comfortable sort of harmony.
I follow the sprawling root of magiline easily, scurrying down it like a mouse through a tunnel. It goes on and on before it’s broken by the clank of a pickax.
A piece of magiline comes free, falling into a dust-coated hand. And as that hand lifts, the dream stops being so peaceful as Diran’s hungry face appears.
“Incredible,” he says before tossing the chunk of magiline onto an already full cart of it.
“What do you think?” Lucien asks as he rubs dust from his sweaty face.
Diran looks around, and suddenly, I know I’m in the Black Burrows again. It’s the same sinuous tunnels, the same dark passageways.
“I think there’s more,” Diran says before he goes to the cart, hands brushing over the pile of softly glowing stones. “I think this is just the start.”
These past few months, I’ve wondered how things would have turned out if I’d aimed true in the Black Burrows. How things at the Tower may have gone if I’d killed Diran then.
I fall into the cart full of magiline, and suddenly, the feel of it around me is no longer peaceful. It tightens, constricting, trapping me again. I fight against it, only to wake with a jolt.
Pain sings from my elbow as I bang it on the corner of Arlon’s desk. My eyes water, but then I realize someone is knocking on Arlon’s door.
“Alright, Dom?” Arlon asks, amused.
“Yeah - shit. Yes, sir,” I say quickly. The pain in my funny bone is already starting to fade, but the unease from my dream lingers. “Just surprised me is all.”
The door opens, and I realize it must be Galiva. No one but Arlon’s apprentice would be bold enough to walk in without an invitation.
“I think we’re all ready,” she says as I pull myself out from under Arlon’s desk. She takes one look at my disheveled appearance before her grin turns sly. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Just my nap,” I mutter as I get to my feet, biting back a moan as the plug reminds me of its presence. Inside of my cage, my cock throbs in protest.
Galiva chuckles as she watches me brace against Arlon’s desk. “Come on, Dom, you’ve only been at this a week.”
I give a small laugh as I shake off the dream as best I can. Galiva’s coming up on the end of her chastity stint for her conjuration mastery, and I have no doubt that Arlon is putting her through it. She seems as composed as ever, but gods only know what all she’s got going on under that skirt.
“Take a minute to wake up,” Arlon says, amusement still coloring his tone. “How was the palace, Gal?”
“We’ve gotten another urgent missive from the Chamberlain,” she says before she hands the sealed letter over.
Arlon groans and takes it, but not before I catch sight of the King’s rearing griffin stamped into the wax. It’s become a common sight lately.
“How urgent?” he asks.
“She only said to look at it as soon as possible,” Galiva says.
Arlon tosses the letter onto his desk with a scoff. “Then it can wait untilafterwe finish the sending spell.”
