Mythshaper

Ashlyn

Arilyn jolted awake with a shrill cry, his body jerking upright. Quickly, Ashlyn dropped to her knees next to him and caught him before he could collapse back.

Her son’s heart pounded, the thumping too loud in her ears. Still catching his breath, he forced himself to stand, acting as if it was nothing, perhaps to reassure her. Even though he barely showed any outward signs of anxiety, Ashlyn knew too much about the horrors of the world to let him pretend it was nothing.

She waited, brushing her palm on his head slowly, as Arilyn went through the breathing exercise she had taught him.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Um, sorry,” he mumbled, a tad apprehensive. “Was investing the point into Weight. I’m fine. The nightmare was a bit...”

His gaze turned to the Dreamweaver. Magus Prisca stood up, her expression as severe as a winter morning.

"Nayan wept," the Dreamweaver swore, closing her eyes. Her left eye twitched as she clutched the armrest of a chair and sank into it.

"What was it this time?" Jinn asked, coming to stand beside them, a crease forming between his brows.

"A battlefield," Arilyn muttered. "It was a battlefield, all dark, like the first two times, but..."

He seemed to be missing words to describe it, or was still too disoriented to put them into words.