I take limping steps through the field of flowers, trailing behind Saegor. He has Tia hoisted onto his neck, her red hair spilling over his dark locks. She laughs at some joke he makes. Then, she points to the cottage.

  I stumble onto my knees.

  Calm down. Adjust. You can handle this.

  The sensation of invading another person’s dream is… perverse. Unlike the times when Thrae visited me, I feel like an outsider here. Every step I take is a rule broken, a law transgressed. Every breath I take is stolen.

  But I must endure.

  I rise.

  And then, I see what might be the most beautiful sight I’ve ever borne witness to.

  Her hair is white, gold, and black. It curls onto her shoulders and frames her smiling, heavenly face. Kind purple eyes peer out, looking towards Saegor and Tia. She wears nothing more than a drab kitchen frock and yet, her beauty is so unnaturally alluring that I actually have to tear my eyes away from her. It's not… normal. Not the same type of easy attraction I have to Sorina. But it’s not malicious, like Thraevirula’s beauty always feels.

  It's like I’m gazing upon an angel. A sight that human eyes are not meant for.

  “I see you’ve kidnapped my daughter,” the woman says. Even her voice is perfect—melodious and smooth, generous and fluid. Often, the heavens would be described to us in Adachi during sermons. Always standing at the back of the crowd, I never caught any sermon in its entirety. Yet, one thing I always remember them saying was that the highest of heavens would have rivers of milk and honey that run through gardens of paradise.

  Her voice, her face, her everything is that milk and honey.

  You’re doing it again. Control yourself. This isn’t normal.

  I bite my tongue. It readjusts me to this mortal—no, this dream plane.

  “Only because she’s too cute not to kidnap!” the mancer responds. Tia giggles.

  “Hmm. Well, my very cute daughter has to do the dishes now, so off you get Tia.”

  “But maa—”

  “No buts. You can play with Saegor later.” Tia’s mother—the woman who birthed the Witch of Plagues—lovingly picks her daughter up from Saegor’s back and gently places her down. She fusses over some grass in Tia’s hair before sending the red-haired girl off running.

  I expect my perspective to change—to follow Tia. In my own dreams, when I played spectator to them, I could only see what my younger self saw. Anything else was blotted by the void of memory.

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  Yet, for some reason, when the door shuts behind Tia, I’m still standing with Saegor and the witch’s mother.

  A blue bird twitters down from a lonesome tree by the house. Saegor stares at it for a few moments, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, before Tia’s mother clears her throat.

  “It is good to see you, Saegor.”

  The young mancer flushes red. It's so strange to witness him now as a mere youth—a young, seemingly plain looking man who blushes at the greeting of a woman rather than gorging himself on flesh and blood.

  People do change.

  You are testament to that.

  “As it is with you, Lady Hypna. Or, should I congratulate you on your new moniker?”

  She laughs. “Please, Saegor, I doubt those vile people call me that as a complement.”

  “You should take it as one. You’ve done a great service for us.” He nudges his head towards the path. They begin walking along it, with flowers outlining the dirt. Those flowers emit a low haze of glittering purple fog. “Besides, I quite like the ring of it. Picture this: our enemies cowering in fear, belaying sleep for they know of one fearsome, monstrous—”

  “Monstrous huh?”

  He clears his throat. “Monstrously beautiful enemy.”

  She slaps his arm.

  “What? I thought it was a good save.”

  “I never said it wasn’t. But, please, continue.”

  “They’ll whisper your name around campfires. Shout it from the ramparts. When they hear it, they shall weep and mourn and prepare themselves for a terrible, terrible death,” he closes his eyes and poses, as if some stage actor in a tragedy.

  Hypna laughs. “Oh Saegor—I didn’t kill them. I just incentivized them never to touch the Entity’s children ever again.”

  “You say that as if it's a better fate.”

  She pauses. “They were… monsters. You said it yourself, right? Otherwise, you know I’d have—”

  He takes her hands. “Of course, Hypna. Of course. You did the right thing, no doubt about it. After all, can you imagine if they did that to Tia?”

  Suddenly, the gentle breeze falls. Yet the temperature somehow drops.

  The glittering fog disappears. The brightness of the flowers around us fade—then they fall limp and die in a black circle that extends from one epicenter.

  And suddenly, Hypna is no longer the most beautiful woman in the world.

  All it takes is a frown.

  And in the darkest of shadows cast by the sun, I see what makes this woman the mother of Thraevirula.

  I wish I could unsee it.

  Saegor is delighted. “And that, Lady Hypna, is why you should cherish the moniker. For those who hear of the Witch of Dreams will never lay a hand on you, nor your daughter. And even if they try, I won’t let them.”

  He kisses her hands.

  The flowers bloom again. The fog returns. The breeze cools the bead of sweat that drips down my spectral form.

  I remember to breathe.

  Hypna blushes. “Thank you, Saegor.”

  “Anything for you, my Lady.”

  ? Mysteries of Sacra ?

  by Robert Wolf

  Thrown into a world of beasts and magic, Kai must fight to survive and find a way back.

  ***

  Power is everything. And Kai is about to learn what it costs.

  What to expect:

  In a world where kindness is weakness and morality is a luxury only the strong can afford, Kai must decide who he wants to be, and what he's willing to sacrifice.

  Umbra, fierce and loyal, and Scry, wise and offlandish, refuse to let him lose himself to the darkness growing within.

  But every step forward brings him closer to a prophecy no one dares to speak.