So Thraevirula’s mother is the Witch of Dreams.

  Thinking about it, that makes a lot of sense. It explains Thrae’s expertise with dream magicks. And perhaps, it explains her… tendencies.

  Still, at least I can confirm one thing: Saegor was lying. Or at least, he was hiding the fact that Hypna was a witch.

  I sit amongst the field of flowers as Saegor half-talks, half-flirts with Hypna. The flowers—blue, white, orange, green, purple—sway in the caress of the wind and their floral scents are rendered so vividly, even in this dream. This memory.

  What even is the difference between a witch and a female mancer? Is there a difference? Or is it just a moniker given to mythologized female mancers?

  Not for the first time, I wish Sorina could be here. Then, I’d ask her all the questions that flood my mind.

  One of the most prominent of them being: what now?

  I’ve entered Thraevirula’s mind, but I have no way to control what memories I peer into. No way to shift to later or prior memories.

  So… what if I’m stuck here?

  I shake my head. Don’t think that way. Just… figure it out, damn it. You always do.

  The blue bird chirps next to me. It too seems ignorant of my spectral form. I tilt my head at it.

  “Any ideas?” I ask.

  The bird chirps. Then, it flies off.

  I sigh. Of course it doesn’t—

  My body is flung. My chest spins and I plummet into the cottage, where the bird now sits upon a window sill. I raise my arms to brace, but of course, my body goes through the wood-thatched walls and stumbles into the cozy kitchen, where a great many pans are piled up. Frothy soap runs down their length. A pie that bleeds blueberry paste sits on the dining table.

  Tia runs past me as I grab for a table to restabilize myself. My hand passes through that as well. I sigh, cursing the dream logic for its stupid rules, before the sounds of excited whispering steal my attention.

  I turn to see Tia cupping her hands to her ear and leaning close to the bird. It hops around, gesticulates with its wings, and chirps incessantly. But she nods, as if she can understand the creature.

  “Oh. So the mancer was flirting with mother again?” she says in a teasing tone.

  Alright. At least one thing is confirmed: I’m still bound by her perspective. It's just that, her perspective is broadened by powers such as this.

  I watch Tia clean the rest of the dishes for a few minutes. She hums about the task innocently. Then, she steals a lick of the stray paste that lines the crust of the pie.

  I remember the tea table and how she always savored those pastries. Back then, she seemed to be doing it for my viewing.

  Yet here, it seems so innocent.

  I shake my head. I guess we were all children once. Even the Elders—actually, let’s not go that far.

  After all, you at least know what Kai did as a mere child. Imagine what Masaru did? Or Daichi?

  Some of us are just born evil.

  The cottage door swings open and as night besets the land, the three occupants of this memory all sit around the table, eating roast lamb and pie for desert.

  And they’re all laughing. Smiling. Like a family.

  I sit quietly in the corner, observing their antics. When the pie comes out, Tia flicks a piece of it at Saegor.

  “So when are you and mommy getting married?”

  Saegor stops cutting into his roast. Hypna’s fork clatters to her plate. “Tia!”

  “What? Isn’t that what adults do when they like each other?”

  Saegor laughs and flicks a piece of his roast at Tia in response. This incites a small food fight between the two of them. Hypna tries scolding them, but she can’t help herself from laughing as well.

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  Hypna will die. Saegor will become Thraevirula’s ultimate enemy. And Tia will become a witch who plagues children and turns them into monsters.

  I start laughing too. But mine is a different laugh than theirs. Theirs is full and hefty and comforting.

  Mine is dry.

  …

  “Alright Tia, it's bedtime. Come on.”

  “Is the mancer staying with us?”

  “Yes but just for the night.”

  “Is he sleeping in the same room as you—”

  “Bedtime Tia!”

  The mischievous red haired girl giggles her way back to her room. But, given the fact that I still remain in the kitchen, she must have some manner of seeing us. I look for the bird, but can’t find it.

  I expect Saegor and Hypna to talk some more—but the mancer just retires himself to bed as well. Leaving me alone in the kitchen with Hypna. She begins humming while cleaning the table, wiping the crumbs off. It reminds me of how my own mother would hum to me, even in our darkest times.

  With a sigh, I kick myself up and start pacing around the table. Hypna’s eyes remain diligently downcast while she scrapes off some stubborn stains.

  What in the hells am I supposed to do? At this rate, I’ll wake up without having learned anything of consequence. Well, besides the fact that these people used to be… people.

  I shake my head. Now’s not the time to be sympathetic. Remember, at the end of the day, Thraevirula works with Masaru—

  “Is my cleaning really that interesting?”

  I freeze.

  Hypna’s eyes are still downcast. Is she addressing Tia? Maybe she knows her daughter is peeping on her somehow?

  The black, white, and gold haired woman places her cloth down and looks at me. “I see you, interloper.”

  What the fu—

  Her hand snakes to my throat. Suddenly, my body phases into the dream’s reality, and all sensation of touch is wrought with painful clarity.

  Hypna seethes. “What are you doing in my house? Are you after my daughter? Me?” She pushes me against the counter. Even though she is a bit taller than me, I didn’t expect her to have such strength.

  In all fairness, she did catch me by surprise.

  I sweep her hand off with a circular motion of my wrist—a movement derived by Eternal Spring—before backing away from her.

  “How can you see me?” I wheeze.

  Rather than answer, she extends her hand. Blue light blooms forth in stringy waves. Aether.

  “Wait—”

  She doesn’t.

  In the next moment, my back smashes against glass as I’m flung from the window. The sensation is… difficult to describe. I’ve fought Aether users before, but on a rare basis. Their magicks come from the realm of Aether and often, it is said that Aether is the rawest material of magicks—akin to runic being the language of magicks.

  Soulfire ignores the body and attacks the inner.

  Aether assaults the exterior. I feel that now, the sensation of being hit by a battering ram.

  I tumble down the slope, smashing a plethora of flowers beneath me. After biting my tongue on accident, I punch my arm into the ground and drag my fall to a stop. Breathing comes slow and heavy. My stomach reels. I check under my uniform—a large, rounded bruise twists into my chest.

  I hope this doesn’t carry over into reality. But god it feels real here.

  I wipe the blood that drips out my lip from the swollen tongue. Then, I stand, facing my new enemy.

  She descends the hill with unbothered steps. Between her hands, she shapes the Aether to her liking—twisting the strings of it into a ball of energy.

  “Is that—is that you Thraevirula? Are you doing this?” I ask.

  Hypna pauses. “What did you just call me?”

  “Thraevirula.”

  Her shaping slows. I take it as an opportunity to extend my hand. Alright. If you have to fight, then use the tools you know.

  The last time I fought Thrae in the dream, I tried summoning lightning. That didn’t work because I had no conception of how dream magicks, nor dream logic really operated. But now? Well, I know better than to just imagine that I can summon lightning from my fingertips. Because in reality, I can’t.

  But I can use angel dust to do so.

  Hypna starts muttering to herself. “That doesn’t make sense,” she eventually says. Then, she shakes her head. “You’re trying to mess with us. But I won’t allow it. I know what your people do—I will not let such a fate befall us.”

  Come on, come on. Work damn you—otherwise she’s going to kill me.

  And although I’ve never died in these sorts of dreams, I don’t want to find out what happens when I die while infiltrating someone else's dream. Let alone the Witch of Plagues’ mind.

  My fist grasps a string.

  I look to see, with some relief, the amulet sack in my hands.

  “Don’t move,” Hypna warns. “I don’t want to have to kill you.”

  Unfortunately for her, through the sack, I can feel a whole wealth of amulets jingle inside. An utterly stupid amount actually—more than I’ve ever received before.

  I start laughing.

  Ah. If only I could use lightning indefinitely in the real world.

  But this will be a close second.

  With that, I break one of the amulets through the bag. And I breathe in the red essence of angel dust while the Witch of Dreams mutters a soft curse and prepares to levy Aether at me.

  For once, I’m glad.

  I’ve been spoiling for a fight.