Arc 2: Chapter 6: A Dream of Dei
I try not to dream. There are too many things in the world that can use them as doors into you, and in my line of work it’s best not to take the risk.
Charms and spells can help keep your mind safe from intrusion. Travelers and farmers will ward their beasts for the same reason. Knights will inscribe their armaments with holy scrawls or embed them with blessed medals to ward off unwelcome spirits in the wild.
The world’s thick with old memories, old wrongs, and all those ghosts are more than ready to complain at you about it. Traveling anywhere can be a risk. Near every village has a witch or hedge mage who will make curse traps for a pittance.
I have my ring. It traps the dark dreams, and the dark things that might use them as doors into my psyche — but it traps the good ones as well, rips them right out of my head. I don’t ever remember them when I wake. When I sleep, I sleep black.
Sometimes, when I can’t stand the quiet in myself any longer, despite the danger, I’ll take the ring off and welcome it all in. The dreams, the nightmares, the memories that can feel like both. Doesn’t matter much. My waking life is often a nightmare ugly as anything my mind can conjure.
Often, anyway.
I’d given my ring to Maxim to help the old knight find some rest. He slept on the small bed in the cottage’s one room. Though he stirred and muttered, he’d managed to fall unconscious sometime in the night. I sat awake against one wall, content with a blanket and a roof over my head, rubbing at my naked finger, watching the wisps play in the hearth. The fire crackled, warm and welcoming.
I fell into it.
***
Bird song tickled my ears. Warm sunlight kissed my skin. A soft breeze brushed against my cheek.
No. The soft breeze was a teasing breath pushed through pursed lips.