He wants the shard. And… maybe the runebook. But definitely the shard.

  It’s not as though I have it. Not… here.

  I examined myself thoughtfully. I’d gone to bed in my gray woolen nightgown, and that was what I wore now. The other night, in the cave, I’d slept in my tunic and trousers. And that was what I’d worn during the second dream.

  It stood to reason, then, that what I fell asleep with… came with me. Somehow. Perhaps he was hoping I’d fall asleep with the sword fragment in hand.

  But at the moment… it was an entire world away.

  So surely he won’t kill me. Or… or do anything too terrible.

  Not… yet.

  I swallowed. “Do you… have a name?”

  The sharp divots of his beak curved upwards. “Most things do.”

  I massaged my temples. “Alright…?”

  There was a velvet rustle. The owl spread his wings and flapped twice, returning to his perch. “Humans. Your entire species walks around with their eyes closed.”

  “What does that even mean?” The reply came out a bit more tartly than I’d intended. I winced, hoping he wasn’t offended.

  He just chuffed another laugh. “Ah, little morsel. If I asked you for your name, would you give it freely?” Gold eyes glinted shrewdly.

  I hesitated. The response indicated that there was something important I was missing. Well, I supposed that went without saying; there was probably a salted mountain of things I didn’t understand about all this. But if simply giving one’s name in this place carried some kind of wicked magic behind it…

  I remained silent.

  “Clever mortal.”

  “Not really.” I frowned.

  The chime sang out beneath his claws. He cocked his head to one side, listening to the music. When it stopped he murmured, “Horace.” He wore the shadow of a smile, as if enjoying a private joke

  “Is that your name?”

  “No. One I… found.” His beak snapped.

  “Horace. Alright. And I don’t suppose you’ll tell me… er, the lord’s name?” The word tasted foul on my tongue. Lord. As if he was some venerable dignitary.

  Horace regarded me silently.

  I sucked in clean, fragrant air. “Alright. Well… all things considered, it’s been, er, nice to meet you, Horace.” It was the most truthful attempt at politeness I could manage, given the circumstances.

  His round eyes shone.

  “Thanks for not eating me.”

  Rallying what shreds of courage I still possessed, I walked towards the manor. The dais steps were cool beneath my feet as I ascended, shivering. At the top, I glanced back at Horace. He watched bemusedly from his perch.

  I placed a hand on the enormous doors and pushed.

  A foyer larger, and infinitely grander, than my entire house loomed before me. White marble walls stretched out, so polished that I almost caught a glimpse of my reflection in them. A tiered chandelier made of sweeping silver and dangling diamonds hung high above. Plush midnight-blue carpet laced with pearly thread swept through the room and down hallways onto either side. It continued on ahead, adorning a grand alabaster staircase that curled upwards and disappeared into shadows.

  I wrung my hands, struck still by fear and wonder. My eyes were drawn to the hallways stretching away to either side; night-black iron sconces lined the walls, each set with fresh candles. Firelight, not red or orange but the pale silver of distant stars, flickered carelessly atop each candle.

  Alright. I’m in his… house. His fancy, terrifying house. Now what?

  My gaze drifted to the staircase, to its silent grandeur and waiting darkness at the top. An endless, depthless black. I shivered.

  I need to… salt, I don’t know! I need to wake up, but how?

  Teela pounding on my bedroom door had woken me from the first dream. And in the second one… well, I still had no idea what had happened. It felt as though I’d been hurled back into the waking world. But it wasn’t something I had done. In both cases, someone or something else had woken me.

  That wasn’t exactly reassuring. But that didn’t mean it was impossible to wake myself up, just that I hadn’t managed to do so yet.

  Maybe I can find something tall to jump off of. That falling sensation always does it with normal dreams; snaps you right up in bed. I considered that more seriously, then amended, Er, but it probably shouldn’t be too tall.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  The staircase loomed, gleaming with ghostly firelight and the pale sheen of silver falling in through the great glass windows. I could climb a short way up, climb over the iron railing, and then… well, jump. Not high enough to get really hurt, of course, but perhaps enough to jolt myself awake.

  It’s not a terrible plan.

  But I couldn’t seem to make my feet move. The shadows above were too deep, too malevolently silent. Too capable of hiding terrible things. I stared into the darkness with dread.

  The anger came slowly. A spark deep in my belly. I was so tired of being afraid. So sick of feeling helpless in the face of living terrors. My life had been violently transformed into a tapestry of fear, into sleeping in caves and running for my life.

  And the Fae… I gritted my teeth, glowering at the majesty around me. The Fae lived in decadence. Doubtlessly without a care in the world. This wasn’t fair.

  I won’t just stand here, waiting for him to come find me.

  I paced through the foyer. What could I do? Horace said I was prey. A helpless, confused mortal, entirely lost and out of my depth in a realm where probably just about everything could kill me.

  My eyes fell to the floor, to the thick carpet beneath my feet. It felt plush and warm. I decided that I hated it.

  I growled and marched outside, down the carved dais and back to the treeline. Horace watched in bemused silence, head twisting this way and that, as I snatched up an armful of twigs and leaves. I stomped back inside, deposited my pile on the carpet and, before I could lose my nerve, held out one hand.

  “Veth.” My fingers twisted and the familiar, glowing lines hung suspended in midair. My chest constricted. Gold light dimmed. The shape faded into vacant air, and… nothing.

  I stared, slack-jawed and horrified, at my fingers. That had never happened before. Nothing had never happened before; at least, not when trying a rune I’d already used.

  “Veth,” I whispered again, heart pounding. Nothing.

  I staggered back, my mind racing. Did magic not work here? No, that couldn’t be right; the Fae had healed my hands. Did divine magic not work? Was I too far from the gods, too displaced from where they could see or hear me?

  Or it’s because I’m dreaming. Or some… version of dreaming. It’s not as though I’ve tried to use runes during normal dreams. At least, not that I can remember.

  A dozen questions swelled in the back of my mind, but I had no way to find answers now. I shook my head, hands falling to my sides. Ghostly candlelight danced across the scattered leaves and sticks. I squared my shoulders.

  Well. It’s not as though I need to use my fire. I turned towards the hallway, ready to pry a candle from its sconce, and froze.

  He was there. Watching me. His head was tilted to one side, night-black hair spilling down across one gray-clad shoulder. The fabric of his vest shimmered like smoke, seeming to fade into haze at its edges.

  I bit down on my lower lip as smoldering anger melted into cold horror. The reality of my situation sank in, turning my blood to ice. I was trapped in a dream, in which I could be hurt and had no way to defend myself, with a monster. More than that, I was in the monster’s house.

  He seemed to be examining the mess on his carpet. Dark, angular brows drew together. Silence loomed like a noose. Finally his fathomless eyes flicked up.

  “What are you doing?” His voice was silk and smoke.

  I swallowed, trying to salvage a few embers of brazen courage. I was unsuccessful. Being angry and bold were much easier when faced with a dark staircase and not a bloodthirsty monster.

  “I’m… I’m trying to… set your house on fire.”

  He examined my pile of kindling, hands clasped behind his back. If he was bothered by my declaration, he didn’t show it.

  The quiet stretched on and on until I couldn’t bear it. “Just… a little bit.”

  His gaze settled back onto mine. Held me. Endless black, glittering with silver.

  My pulse fluttered. “They’re stone. Your walls. You… you probably already know that. I didn’t think it would do much, just… ruin your carpet.”

  “Ruin my carpet.”

  “Yes.”

  “You have a curious way of showing gratitude, mortal.”

  I balked. “G… gratitude? Gratitude for what?!” I didn’t give him a chance to answer. Anger clawed its way back through the shroud of cold fear. I embraced it. My fists clenched and my voice rose, echoing off the marble. “You’ve attacked my home, hurt people I love, and you’ve been… been… tormenting me in my sleep!”

  From somewhere deep within I was vaguely aware that shouting at a Fae was terribly unwise, but… well, I was already at his mercy. If he wanted to kill me, surely nothing I did or did not do would have any hope of stopping him. So… I shouted.

  “What exactly am I supposed to be grateful for?!”

  He seemed unfazed by my outburst. “Quite the list of grievances. I’m guilty of none.”

  I spluttered, gaping up. “You… well, you… yes, you are!”

  Rose-red lips twitched with something between bemusement and disdain. “I have not harmed any humans. Well, not recently. And your dreams have been perfectly safe.”

  “You and your horrible pets attacked my home!” My voice reverberated off the walls.

  “I attacked nothing. I was not the only monster present in your quaint little town the other night, I was merely the most benevolent.”

  I shook my head, trembling with fury and fear. “Benevolent? Benevolent? If you’re so benevolent, then let me leave!”

  “I would love nothing more, human.” He drew closer, lips curling with contempt. “But you have something I need, and I still have questions. Our conversation in your hovel hardly sated my curiosity.”

  I backed away as he crossed the distance between us. Glanced around, looking for an escape.

  Pointlessly. I couldn’t very well charge off through his house, and running outside… even if I made it out the doors, he’d surely catch me. Otherworldly features aside, he stood nearly a head taller than me and was undoubtedly faster.

  “L-look,” I stammered, stumbling back towards the door, “I… I’m no one. Unless you want to know about growing tomatoes or… or mixing fever tonics, I don’t know anything about… anything!”

  He paused. Tilted his head to one side. “What’s a tomato?”

  I stared. My pulse thrummed like a trapped bird. “What’s a… how can you not… it’s a red fruit that… hold on, I’m not telling you anything!” Not even something so utterly pointless. I’d give him nothing.

  His eyes glinted like a drawn blade. “No? Your friend, or lover, or whatever he is, should be fully recuperated by now. It would be cruel to let his wounds reopen just because you didn’t feel like upholding your bargain."

  My jaw dropped. My hand froze, palm flat against the cold marble door.

  There it was, then. Acknowledgment. Confirmation, from the monster’s own mouth, that our deal carried the weight of twisted, wicked magic.

  “Is that how it works, then? If I break my… my pact,” I spat the word through trembling lips, “Then what you did to Royce gets undone?”

  His voice was soft. “I don’t think you want to find out.”

  I saw it again; that endless shadow behind him. It blacked out the candles, clouded the starlit windows, swallowed up everything… then it was gone. Ivory walls and midnight carpet shimmered in dancing candlelight.

  “You should be thanking me.”

  “Thanking you…” I choked back tears. Was this to be my life, now? Dragged to this cold prison every night? Until he was satisfied, or bored- and then what? Would I be slaughtered?

  “You’re the first mortal to set foot in this part of the Night Court. Though I believe some of my fellows keep humans as pets,” he added, sounding almost conversational, “For entirely banal purposes. Amusement. Breeding.” He scoffed at the scattered twigs and leaves. “I truly don’t see the appeal.”

  “Thanking you,” I whispered again. I buried my face in trembling hands.

  He frowned down at me. “If you can’t appreciate the majesty of your surroundings, perhaps you can at least appreciate my kindness there,” he gestured towards my hands.

  I lowered them. Couldn’t find the words to answer.

  The walls around us trembled. A familiar pounding echoed from very far away. The thick carpet shivered beneath me. Silver light swallowed the room.

  As the world slipped away, his murmur echoed off the unyielding marble.

  “We’ll continue this tomorrow night.”