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Chapter 1
Dreams were far less interesting when I had to deliberately steal them.
Not that they were ever uninteresting. As a magical being, I was drawn to all things magical, and dreams were the most magical of all—entire worlds contained in a story carefully woven for Mortals while they slept, fantastic visions of wonder and mystery I used to never tire of.
Although I’d been exploring dreams my entire life, it had lost its appeal ever since the realm responsible for creating them had stolen my powers and banished me from my home based on false conclusions. Now I needed more magic, and I only knew of one way to acquire it: stealing. For whenever I captured a dream, the power used to create it would be taken from its creator and become mine.
That’s what had brought me to Earth night after night, why I was here now. I fiddled with my dream locket, nearly empty save for a single ounce of magic borrowed from Mother, just enough to steal more—but I couldn’t seem to make myself use it for its intended purpose. While I’d captured and bottled dozens of dreams in my old home in the Dream Realm, at the time I hadn’t known I was stealing magic with each acquisition to my vast collection.
I did now.
Stardust—my best friend and loyal cloud who took me everywhere—refused to bring me to Earth to knowingly commit such a devious crime. After all, she had a detective reputation to uphold. But her lack of cooperation never spared me from her usual lecture.
“Only Nightmares conduct such criminal activity,” she’d once more briskly pointed out before I’d left tonight.
“Exactly, and I’m a Nightmare.” Even though I’d been saying the words for several months now, they still knotted my stomach with unease. But like all flickers of emotion, I shoved it away; I’d long since convinced myself it was better to feel nothing.
“No, you’re not,” Stardust said. “Case in point: I hate all Nightmares but I love you. The only logical explanation is that you’re not a Nightmare at all. Even an amateur investigator could deduce such a solid conclusion.”
I bit my lip to prevent myself from pointing out that Stardust’s deductions weren’t always solid; she was my only friend from my old life—my only friend at all—and one I very much wanted to keep. Thankfully, Stardust’s loyalty proved unwavering; instead of turning me in, she became uncannily unobservant whenever it was time for my usual dream-stealing exhibitions, becoming determinedly engaged in one of her coloring books whenever it was time for me to leave.
Since Stardust refused to be my mode of transportation for my attempted-thievery exploits, I’d been borrowing my Uncle Blaze’s cloud, Sparks, which he let me use grudgingly at Mother’s insistence. His cloud had obediently flown me to Earth every night for the past three months and passed the time waiting for me by building a strange contraption made from a bundle of freshly carved lightning bolts he’d taken from Blaze at the Weather Shaping Studio.
I always chose the same sleepy village where my old Mortal, Maci, lived. I hovered outside her cottage, staying hidden in the shadow of its crooked chimney while I waited for the Weaving to end. For if I had to steal—and I’d long since made it my decision to do so—I wanted it to be from only one individual.
I peered through the slit in Maci’s bedroom curtains, secretly hoping for a glimpse of the Nightmare I’d been trying—and failing—to forget. As usual, my heart lurched when I saw him, even as both burning anger and fierce longing battled within me.
No, I didn’t long forhim. He was a betrayer. It pleased me to see how unhappy he seemed; in all my evenings spying on his Weavings, I hadn’t glimpsed his smile once. After what he’d done to me he deserved to be miserable—at least that’s what I tried to convince myself of, but there were brief moments when...
I stiffened and quickly locked that dangerous emotion back in my hardened heart where it belonged. It was better not to feel.
I watched him unpack his bag and arrange the pattern for tonight’s nightmare while his new partner watched with a frown. I didn’t know her name. I didn’t care. I hated her. She’d stolen Maci from me, and for that there was no forgiveness.
Envious loathing burned through me that I was forced to watch someone else weave formyMortal. Not only had she stolen something infinitely precious from me, but this Dreamer didn’t even deserve Maci. Despite her experience, she’d failed to win a single Weaving in the three months since she’d been assigned. Inexcusable.
The dragonfly Dreamer—as I’d taken to calling her based on her style—went through the weaving motions without any real enthusiasm, spending more time fiddling with the dragonflies residing in her hair than focusing on constructing a dream for Maci. She’d made a greater effort in the early days of her new assignment but had long since given up;hewas far too talented for her. As a result, Maci had been plagued with nightmares every night since I’d left her. Even though she always forgot them by morning they still affected her: she was now referred to by her exhausted Mother as a colicky baby prone to night terrors.
I repeatedly tried to remind myself that this was a good thing, for each nightmare a Mortal viewed granted my new home the power it deserved. But then why did I feel an ache in my cold heart whenever I watched Maci sleep restlessly night after night, Darius’s recent nightmare—plump and juicy with her fear—floating above her?
Darius had changed from the partner I’d known. Unlike when he’d frequently beaten me, his current unbreakable dominance didn’t seem to concern him in the slightest. He didn’t bother to wait, offer assistance, or do anything to level out the competition; he didn’t even look at his partner, much less talk to her. He usually completed his nightmare and gave it to Maci before she even unpacked her bag. She didn’t seem overly bothered by this. As she’d relentlessly complained to an unresponding Darius, Maci was the third Mortal she wove for each night, one whom she had no connection to considering she hadn’t been magically chosen for her.
Even though she’d already spouted this tirade countless times tonight, she felt inclined to bring it up again. While Darius mechanically wove, the dragonfly Dreamer half-heartedly removed her weaving supplies, taking an abhorrently long time to do so.
“I don’t know why I bothered accepting an assignment that’s proven to be nothing but a monumental waste of time,” she said. “I waste precious dream dust on this Mortal totally unsuited to me, only to get nothing in return.”
Darius didn’t even warrant her a glance. Unbothered by his usual lack of response, the Dreamer continued.
“I wish I could just terminate this assignment and let someone else get slaughtered by you every night. No matter whom you partner with, they’d inevitably lose.”
Darius still didn’t spare her a glance; the Dreamer might as well have been talking to herself.
“I suppose it’s not too late to go to the Council and resign. It wouldn’t matter to Maci either way; I’m not the Dream Weaver the Universe originally chose for her.”
Darius paused to lift up his already impressive nightmare quilt to study the pattern before seamlessly stitching in another detail with his usual rapid, fluid movements while the Dreamer watched with a frown.
“How ironic the only Dream Weaver suited to the task turned out to be nothing more than a Nightmare in disguise who possessed dark magic that resulted in her suspension. The fool.”
Darius stiffened and I caught the briefest flicker ofsomethingin his otherwise emotionless expression. He slowly raised his darkened gaze. “Don’t ever bring her up again.”
