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Easton was having a difficult time falling asleep, forcing Caspian and me to wait with our clouds, Stormy with his usual tendency to go invisible. As was usual during our Weavings, silence reigned between us. I wondered whether Caspian was afraid of me and who I’d become; the more tense our relationship became, the more my hopes of rekindling a friendship with Angel and Iris dwindled.
I had no doubt Caspian had informed them of our nightly competitions—that I was an excellent Nightmare Weaver who was difficult to beat. If Angel had hated me before, she undoubtedly hated me now, a thought too painful to dwell on, so I buried it with all my other emotions and tried not to feel at all. Instead I tried to focus my attention on plaguing my newborn Mortal with nightmares, a task which grew tedious with each passing night, and tonight I would be forced to give him another one.
I fiddled with my nightmare blueprint, whose careful notes blurred together along with my elusive focus. I’d gained enough experience to rely less heavily on the advice Darius had graciously given me, yet I still used it anyway. It reminded me of a time that now felt like so long ago, back when he’d helped me with my weaving assignment in the Dream Realm, a time I longed to return to. And while doing so was impossible, each piece of advice I implemented contained a piece of him I could keep even though the rest of him had slipped away.
The memories of our interaction the day before returned, forcing me to close my eyes and struggle to push them away. But they wouldn’t leave so easily. They lingered, reopening my closed-off heart and allowing the emotions I didn’t want to feel to seep over me, unwanted and distracting.
I tried to focus on tonight’s nightmare, but it was impossible not to think of Darius when I could see his advice in every aspect of weaving—the best sensory details to use for a baby; simple stitches being the most suitable ones for a newborn’s current understanding; the flower details that best fit a young Mortal’s limited experiences. Not for the first time I wondered if I should follow Darius’s guidance so closely, considering it brought not only unwanted reminders of him but victories I secretly no longer wanted.
These thoughts weren’t the only changes that had been occurring within me. With each passing Weaving I grew more uncomfortable with Easton’s fear, relished less in my victories, and began to feel that the hardened persona I constantly wore was a mask for a part I merely played. And now that I’d seen Darius again, I felt more shifting within me.
A sound below pulled my limited attention away from my nightmare blueprint. Easton’s bedroom door eased open to reveal a young face I knew all too well. Sophia, a Mortal I’d spent much time worrying about back when I’d lived on Earth...and Easton’s older sister. She tiptoed closer to her restless brother and peered into the cradle.
“Are you scared to fall asleep?” she asked quietly, an inquiry he responded to with only a whimper. “I have bad dreams, too. My teddy helps.” She chewed on her lip, deliberating, before determination settled over her. She carefully tucked her plush bear beside her brother and gave him a kiss before departing with a sweet wish for him to have pleasant dreams.
Though the interaction had been short, it affected me deeply, my heart too vulnerable to effectively guard against the empathy for my Mortal and the shame over my role in his fear-filled sleep, neither of which I wanted to feel.I’dcreated the nightmares that haunted his nights, used his fear to increase my own powers, and had experienced far too many moments when I didn’t even regret it.
Just who had I become? I didn’t recognize this Eden, but I feared I was too far down this path to escape it now, a thought that only tightened the terror squeezing my chest. It hadn’t dissipated when Easton finally fell into a restless sleep shortly after his sister’s departure, as if her teddy had been what finally allowed him to settle.
Reluctantly, I shakily began to weave, my horror over who I’d become lingering to lend its strength to the dream despite my beginning to doubt I wanted to win at all.
“Eden?”
My gaze snapped up from my nearly completed nightmare to meet Caspian’s. He hadn’t even begun his own weaving but instead wriggled anxiously.
This was the first time he’d bridged our usual tense silence since the beginning. He’d been struggling to beat my dreams ever since our partnership had begun, but most of his attempts proved futile, for I continued to crush him nearly every night. I’d watched his disappointment along with Easton’s fear, both of which I’d found to be quite entertaining...or rather, theyhadbeen. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Eden?”
I blinked, having been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t realized I hadn’t answered Caspian. I rolled my eyes towards the ceiling to make him believe I was annoyed even though I wasn’t at all. Rather, I was...wary. What could he possibly want to ask me?
Despite having captured my attention, he didn’t seem inclined to speak. After a moment of restless silence, my limited patience wore thin. “What is it?” I snapped.
He flinched at my biting tone and I felt instantly remorseful at how hardened I’d allowed myself to become. I’d worn the mask for so long I wondered whether I could ever remove it and be anyone else.
“You’ve won nearly every Weaving since our partnership began.”
That was true, though the last few nights of weaving had been especially difficult as my conflicted feelings about Darius made it so my heart wasn’t really in it, causing Caspian to actually win...but the single victory hadn’t been enough to replenish his dream dust before I began dominating our competition once more.
“Brilliant observation,” I said dully.
He shifted more restlessly. “Well, because of your nearly undefeated streak...I’m running out of magic.” He tugged his starfish-shaped dream locket out from beneath his collar; his aqua-blue dream dust was nearly diminished.
“It’s not my fault you dabble in the weaker form of earning magic, nor is it my problem you’re incompetent.” I winced at my own words as I desperately tried to control the darkness that seemed to have taken control of my tongue...along with everything else.
Yet as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t push it away. Instead it gloated at Caspian’s flinch, pleased at the revenge I was getting against Angel for tossing our friendship aside. If her Pair hurt, then so would she. But the portion of my heart that had opened up from seeing Darius again caused me to want nothing more than to rid myself of these dark feelings; the darkness I carried was already too heavy a burden to have to carry guilt, too.
“No matter how hard I try, you’re too talented for me to beat you.”
I frowned at Caspian’s words, the part of me that hated being good at something I’d previously despised. I crossed my arms like a shield and leaned back. “Weaving for Easton shouldn’t be your only source of magic. Don’t you also weave for another Mortal?”
I tried to pull this Mortal’s name from the recesses of my memory from back when I used to spend time with Caspian, Angel, and Iris in the Dream Realm and listen to their animated discussion about the previous night’s Weavings, but that time of light felt far too long ago.
Caspian sighed. “Iusedto win my Weavings with my other Mortal, but ever since he became a teenager, his interests have darkened to the point where he seems to actually prefer nightmares, so my dreams fail to generate strong enough emotions in order to win. My other weaving partner, Coal, has been slaughtering me, too.”
I gave an exaggerated yawn, forcing him to get to the point. He made it in a rush of words, as if trying to get them out before he lost his nerve.
“I need to win a few Weavings in order to replenish my magic.”
