The guards turned to go but lingered, their eyes darting not towards me, but to the bed with a flicker of unease. “Sleep well,” one said in a poor attempt at civility before shutting the door behind them with a soft click that felt far more final than a slam. A shudder ran through me as the heavy lock turned.
I waited three full breaths…then I moved, first to the bed, the most obvious trap. I circled it slowly, then dropped to my knees and peered underneath, candle in hand. The shadows clung stubbornly, making it difficult to investigate, but the flame chased them just far enough for me to reveal nothing beneath it.
I remained unconvinced.
Experience had taught me that traps rarely wore obvious faces, but were cleverly hidden in layers of silk, the scent of lavender, or beneath the guise of velvet-draped pillows with fine down stuffing…until you laid your head on them and never woke up. Death in disguise.
I examined the bedposts, inspected the corners of the mattress, and ran my fingers along the seams of the embroidered pillows. I detected no trace of poison, enchanted runes, or invisible substances or spells…but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
With a sigh I considered the puzzle from every angle, trying to fit the pieces into something that made sense. But for all my effort, my mind remained a tangle of confusion.
A dungeon to a guest room, from shackles to silk. An elaborate, roundabout way to execute a criminal that defied every rule of consequence I’d ever known. But in a night full of riddles and contradictions, it made far more sense than treating a thief like an honored guest.
Suspicion practically demanded I spend the night in the chair. But my exhaustion lured me to the bed like a finely cut gem beckoning a thief’s fingers, invoking the same emotions I experience in those rare moments when I stumbled upon the perfect object tucked just slightly out of sight, daring me to find it.
I stood beside the luxurious bed for several minutes before resting a tentative hand against the duvet, woven from rich satin and impossibly soft beneath my touch. I felt with my magic for any hint of malice, some stray emotion from the last person to sleep here, but sensed nothing.
I suddenly became aware of how heavy my limbs had become and the weight of my eyelids, brought by a long day of travel, scaling the walls and sneaking into the palace, my capture, and the hours of uncertainty after having been caught as I awaited my fate.
Despite my misgivings, I eased onto the edge of the bed, ignoring the satin nightgown draped over the foot and promising myself I’d only rest for a moment. The mattress cradled me, a cocoon that lulled me into a deep slumber.
But sleep didn’t come…at least not the kind of slumber that brings rest. Instead of being enfolded in darkness or drifting into a dream, I felt myself tumble sideways into something far stranger—a liminal space suspended between breath and heartbeat, between thought and forgetting. I wasn’t fully asleep, nor was I any longer awake.
The room around me faded, its edges dissolving like fog in rising sun. The castle shifted—not in a flicker, but gradually, dreamily—like a memory remembering itself or a story waiting to be told. Though my body remained tossing restlessly beneath the covers, my mind wandered on a journey of its own, far beyond the confines of stone and silk.
Corridors opened to me—long, vaulted halls that hadn’t existed in daylight. Windows looked out on starlit courtyards where time rippled like water. Even the tapestries had transformed, now embroidered with shifting scenes: a broken crown, roses swallowed by vines, landscapes without a time and place, and a pale figure walking alone into a storm.
The indistinct images blurred around me, like paint spilled in rain. But gradually the indiscernible shapes began to take form, lines sharpening until a silhouette emerged. At first, I thought it was just a shadow cast by torchlight, until I realized it was a formless man standing at the far end of a curved hallway, half-shrouded in mist—silent and unmoving, but watchful.
An indiscernible ache bloomed in my chest, sharp and soft all at once. I didn’t know him, and yet…something in me recognized him, as if we’d once met before. This strange familiarity beckoned me forward, the same curiosity that always tingled in my fingertips before touching an object, the promise of a story waiting to be uncovered.
I took a step forward. The figure immediately turned and began to walk, vanishing around the bend. Even without words, I sensed his silent invitation to follow. The castle unfolded like a dream not yet fully formed. The halls I passed through lacked detail, walls shifting with every step, as if this strange realm hadn’t quite decided on a setting.
The strange figure was always there, yet remaining just out of reach, waiting around each corner to guide me deeper.
Through rooms that shimmered and warped like reflections in a rippling pond. Down staircases that spiraled endlessly. Past doorways that opened to reveal glimpses of the impossible—an endless corridor of closed doors guarding silent occupants, though I couldn’t see a soul; a library of books that whispered their contents aloud in forgotten tongues; a courtyard where stars bloomed from the soil like fragile wildflowers.
And always…the man I followed without any understanding as to why.
Sometimes he was more defined—a silhouette outlined in moonlight. Dark hair, broad shoulders, and a posture carved in grief. Though I never saw his face, I felt his presence—kind, but lost and unbearably lonely. He never spoke, yet the weight of his silence said more than words, as if he were trying to tell me something he no longer remembered how to say.
Eventually, he paused outside a door carved with ancient sigils. This time, he didn’t move on, but waited for me to reach him. I approached slowly, gazing at him curiously. Slowly he turned towards me, meeting my eyes. I stared into his fathomless grey eyes, so foreign and yet so familiar, feeling an indescribable urge to ask him something, though I wasn’t sure what. One corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a gesture that tugged me yet nearer.
Wordlessly, he pushed the door open. I caught a glimpse of a dark chamber, and beyond it the moon gleamed through a glass door that led onto a balcony. I paused, feeling a strange sensation of returning. That balcony…I had a fleeting image of myself, clinging to a thick vine as I hauled myself onto it with a triumphant grin.
I blinked and the image faded. My gaze returned to the man quietly watching me, as though waiting for my reaction. Caution urged me to turn and leave, but I was far too curious. Besides, this was just a dream…I couldn’t truly be harmed.
With every step I drew closer, the castle began to tremble, as though something buried deep within it had begun to stir. I reached for him and he lifted his hand towards mine, but just as our fingers were about to touch, the vision shattered. The last image I saw was of the fading image of his face, his lips parting as though to call out to me. But before the sound reached myears, he vanished into the night…as if he’d never been there at all.
I woke with a start, breath ragged and heart pounding frantically. The bedchamber was quiet once more, the strange enchantment that had surrounded me lifted. The dream had passed, but the echo of his presence lingered like a shadow stitched to my soul.
CHAPTER 4
Between the haze of tangled visions and dreams—so entwined I couldn’t discern what was real and what wasn’t—I must have eventually slipped into a restless sleep. My next awareness opened up to a sliver of dawn peeking through the satin curtains.
The first thing I noticed through groggy and disoriented senses was the ache filling every inch of my body, as if I’d spent the night undergoing brutal martial arts training in my dreams. I groaned as I tried to sit up, pain flaring across my muscles.
I pushed up my sleeve and blinked at the trail of dark bruises mottling my skin, splotches of purplish-grey blooming like ink spills. Further inspection revealed more along my arms, my legs, my torso—and based on the throbbing tenderness, also all across my back. I always had a scattering of bruises from my ventures, and last night’s encounter with the guards had doubtless added a few more, but I’d never experienced this sort of full-body ache that reeked of magic.
