Welcome, new readers and subscribers! If you’re just catching up, I’ve posted the links to the first fifteen chapters below.
Chapter 1 - The Silver Feather (now with audio!)
Chapter 2 - The Visit (now retitled with audio!)
Chapter 3 - Callie
Chapter 4 - Oscar
Chapter 5 - Shades of Crimson and White
Chapter 6 - Dreamweaver Training Begins
Chapter 7 - The Mark of Callie
Chapter 8 - Dreams for Sale.
Chapter 9 - Dragons and Dreams
Chapter 10 - What the Warriors Knew
Chapter 11 - Haunting Callie
Chapter 12 - Oscar: Patron of the Arts
Chapter 13 - Daisies, Dreams, and Dragon Spells
Chapter 14 - In the Garden of Council
Chapter 15 - The Shadows Find Their Voice
Oscar
Oscar leaned over his machine and caressed its cold, sterile outer layer. Gears whirred to life and clicked into place when he turned the knob, controls at the mercy of its master. “It is finished,” he whispered.
Disks and files cluttered his desk. He voice-activated his computer and heard the recordings of the four men in suits once more, then turned to his captive.
“I am not my father, Lucien,” he said as the nine ropes, with the strength of chains, bound Lucien fast in the Dreamscape. Three each of silver, indigo, and blue. “Watch, Ancient One. Watch what I have managed.” Oscar reached for a loose thread and pulled it slowly. Lucien cried and writhed while the world was rewoven.
“Oscar?” Lucien raised his brows. “You are the spitting image of your father. In every sense,” he added, his voice stretched and thin, from the pain of Oscar’s magicked chains.
Oscar leaned close to Lucien’s ear. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Callie helped me create it.” Lucien’s eyes narrowed.
“Callie? How?”
“It’s not important. What is important is that in my world, free will exists in its truest form. No fear. No love. No hate. No labels on emotion or actions. Everyone can do what they want when they want to do it.”
“But dreams.”
“Dreams are for the weak. My dreams, that I create, are for the strong.”
“That you create?” Lucien said each world slowly, his brows knitted together. “You don’t create dreams. You’re human.”
“So is she. The …. What do you call her? Your Dreamscape Priestess?”
“No, she isn’t. At least, not the way you—or she, for that matter—imagine.”
Oscar turned his back and flourished his hand. “Whatever. You were a test, anyway. And one I’m proud to say has passed with flying colors.”
“A test? A test for what?”
“Well, as you said. I’m human. I don’t have the ability to walk the Dreamscape. Not like you. Not like her.” He pulled another thread, and Lucien twisted against them, his body stretching and straining against his bindings. As he contorted himself to try to break free, he couldn’t help but let out a yelp as Oscar continued to pull at the threads, tightening each one further, and each thread cutting into Lucien’s skin. “Or maybe I do. And not only can I walk in the Dùsgadh, where only Ancient Ones, The Council, and the Priestess can walk, but it seems I can capture the one I seek within it.”
“Fine. You’ve captured me. But how? Why?”
“All in good time, my friend. All in good time.” Oscar put a finger to his lips. “I’m told you’ve only just begun training the new Dreamscape Priestess. Perhaps I can help speed up her training,” Oscar suggested.
“Yes,” Lucien answered drawing out the word. Oscar shushed him.
“You should have thought of her long before now. She’s been with me in the daydream world fighting her own demons. The ones you brought upon her when she was in the Dreamscape.” Oscar tapped his fingers in staccato against his machine. “I know you were there. Had to be.” Oscar sniffed the air. “It reeked of your holier-than-thou scent.” He smirked. “Your Sarah is in the hospital, isn’t she? Comatose?”
Lucien remained silent. Oscar raised a finger. “Ah, but you didn’t do that. Your daughter did that trying to live up to in a few years what the Dream Weaver couldn’t do. Keep the worlds together.”
Oscar stood. “Shadows, report.” Silence. Rumblings. Then, Oscar leaned down close to Lucien’s ear. “Your warriors have no power in my dreamscape, Lucien. You failed. I won’t.”
©Lisa Rogers. This story has been written from my head by my hand for more years than I care to count. Completed December 2024. All Rights Reserved.
I have gone back-and-forth ad nauseum about whether or not to serialize this book and have decided to rip off the Band-Aid(tm) or plaster, if you prefer.
Disclaimer: it’s not going to be perfect, but it has been story coached, developmental, and line-edited, any typos or similar issues are mine and mine alone.
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