Waiting

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to me.

Twisted Soul

Life is meaningless. From the time that you draw your first breath things turn against you. You never truly get what you want because once you get it you already want something else. I used to want friends then I got them, but I never really fit with them.

He moved to the window. Stars were shining trying to compete with the half moon. The courtyard was a fairy world of whitewashed stone and utter shadow. His eyes returned to the night sky.

He felt the wind teasing his hair and getting into his robes. It was biting cold. It would snow soon and then the outside would transform into a winter wonderland.

There was always something that kept me apart, wealth, good looks, intelligence. They all had their predestined spots in life. I was just a floater. There was no way I was going to follow the Soulless One yet at the same time no chance in hell that I would join the never-ending light.

He turned away from the icy glass as it betrayed the emotions in his eyes. A steel curtain dropped over the silver irises enhancing the color, but hiding the life.

I did my best to get rid of my so called friends and for the most part it worked I had never got seriously close to any of them. My main goal in life is to die alone. I do not want crying family or somber friends. I just want to be utterly alone. The sarcastically funny one no longer exists.

Proof of his exile was evident. There was once a time when he could not walk down the hallways and be alone. Now he always was. True there was the occasional time when people did walk with him simply because they had the same destination.

Even then they would be careful not to walk to close. He had not felt the comfort of another human hand since after his sixteenth year. A year and a half is a long time to go without contact.

My mask is on my true colors carefully hidden. No one will notice that their hues grow dark. Perhaps I can slip away completely unnoticed. Not even make a ripple of concern in their lives.

He had always had a mask of some sort on. His own father helped him construct the royal heritage that he had shown all those years. His father was gone now. It hurt too much to use that mask.

He had not been allowed to see his mother since he left for his sixth year at the boarding school. In all fairness his mother had warned him.

“Return to that school and I will never be near you again.” She had kept her word. Dutifully every holiday he returned to the cold palace and every time he returned a little darker.

She might as well have died in that battle. She was not even alive anyway. Isabelle had strove for life while recovering from her injuries. Then she learned that Laruent, her beloved husband, had been killed. The light left her eyes and even with all the will leeched out of her son’s she slipped into a life of memory and pain.

There I go thinking about others again. Never have a care for myself. I hate my life, nice as it may seem to an outsider perfect even. It is as unreal as my dreams. I can hardly stand it as my life slithers into darkness. I don’t want to be here when it hits bottom. One little slash and I can receive my greatest wish.

Dreams were not enough to live for. They were almost as bad as memories. Almost as painful and just as vivid. His dreams would leave with him. The thought stayed his hand.

He did not want his dreams to die. He had worked so hard to keep them through the worst parts of his aristocratically disguised life. Everywhere he turned there was another obstacle in his path. Now there were none.

His pale arm seemed to shimmer in the moonlight. He flexed his fingers. A fist formed and his blue-blooded veins stood out proudly from his white flesh. He uncurled his fingers and the veins melted back. Four crescent shaped indents graced his palm.

They were only testament to the strain his muscles went through. He stared at the wounds watching them fade back to white leaving his palm perfect as always. The straight razor on his desk glittered, a silent promise. He would not even have to get up and get it.

It was so easy to lean over and grasp the mother of pearl handle. The razor’s weight was comforting. He was glad that he had been moved out of the nursery. Grown princes got their own rooms on the fourth floor. He could imagine himself back in the dungeons of the east wing where the only window available was too awkwardly angled to see out of.

It was a small blessing that he would be able to see the night as he fell into eternal darkness. The stars would light his way. He felt a cold line on his wrist and realized that he had placed the razor on himself. Just a little bit of pressure and it would be started. His fingers closed into a fist again and the veins rose eagerly towards the cutting edge.

A thin red strand appeared. It had not even hurt. He lifted the razor and examined the mark. One single drop of blood ran down his arm. He looked at the blade and saw the faint red on the very edge of it. He was not as blue-blooded as he thought. A low chuckled wrapped itself around the room. He was going to be free.

So what the hell am I waiting for?

The Dream Vortex

The girl was twisting upon her bed of furs. Her silver white hair tangled with the short brown bristles of her pillow. Her eyes were clamped shut and had been so for seventeen years. No one knew the color of her eyes. Her body contorted and writhed. The delicate chains on her ankles and wrists clanked softly as they were alternately pulled and released.

Blood so much blood. Enough to drown in. Enough to kill. For all she knew she was in Dante’s river of blood between the sixth and seventh levels of Hell. The red serum was warm and sticky. She was covered in it. No matter how she moved there was still more.

Three figures stood around the bed. To the right of the girl stood a tall pale woman with bright red hair and topaz eyes. She was clad completely in light teal armor a mace held in one hand and a shield in the other. She was the cleric, the healer, there to make sure the Vortex could recover from anything she might commit upon herself.

A bright colored light came towards her. She knew this light. She reached out her hand, but the light kept dancing away. She pleaded. She lifted her hands in supplication and still the teal light kept its distance. She knew she was crying though it was hard to tell.

To the left of the centerpiece in the circular room one identical to her with different coloring. This one had dark gray hair and white eyes. She was wearing a decorated green robe. She carried a long staff and an open book. She was the enchantress, the teacher, there to instruct the Sleeper in her constant slumber of the things she would need to know to survive.

A second light joined the first. They hovered together like fireflies. This newcomer was a dark green perfectly complementing the color of the other. She jumped trying to catch this one. She missed by so much room that it broke her heart. The lights had never stayed this distant from her before.

She wanted them to come closer. She needed their comfort and strength. She could feel herself losing the battle against the current. The level rose and she could no longer stand on the rock beneath the bloody river.

She looked around wildly for a jut of stone or a tree that she could latch onto. Finally a gnarled tree appeared at the steep shore of the gushing blood. She clung to its black branches for dear life.

Kneeling at the foot of the bed of stone a wood elf stationed herself. Shorter than the other two and darkly skinned she had blood colored hair and the yellow eyes of a wolf. She was dressed in black chain mail and was armed with an enormous sword covered in red runes and a normal sized blade graced with lightening. She was the ranger, the protector, there to fight off any fear, any danger that the Dreamer could not handle by herself.

Finally the black light entered. She knew this light would stay close by. While the other two kept to themselves the ebon spark floated right in front of her face. It allowed her to capture it in her bloody hands. It danced between her fingers.

She opened her hands. She was sinking in the blood. Her clothes were dragging her down. Frantically she tried to remove them when she realized they did not exist in this world. The branch snapped. Her anchor was gone. The river closed over her head without a bubble to indicate that she was even there right under the surface.

The sisters were Fayette and Desteniy. The one apart was known as Niane. The women looked at the female on the bed with an air of distinct sorrow. Finally Niane spoke.

“Can one of you please stop this?”

“Not until she is done. You know full well Ranger that we can not disturb her while she communicates with her sibling.” Fayette’s voice was heavy. Niane’s rust colored brows came together on her dark forehead.

“Something horrible has happened.” Desteniy spoke her voice monotone.

“Soon it will be time to awaken the Dreamer.” Fayette answered. Her voice sounded as a copy of her sister’s.

“It is too soon.” Niane leaned over the bed slightly watching the sheen of sweat rise upon the pale flesh of the girl.

“It might be too late. We need to rouse her so she can get used to the world of reality.” Desteniy spoke again.

“We have to give her time to change her image so that she is comfortable here.” Fayette glanced knowingly at the wood elf. The three winced as an inhuman scream filled the air.

It went on and on until the two sisters were clasping their bleeding ears and kneeling by the bed. Niane had a pained expression, but refused to show her pain more than that.

“What is he doing that would make her react like that?” The sisters shrugged, answering as best they could while still protecting their ears. Finally after what seemed like hours the slim body collapsed and the chains ceased their noise. The trinity looked at their charge unknowingly mimicking the exact position of another.

The Awakening

The guardians knew something horrible was happening. Their charge twisted and turned her body flailing over the furry bed. Yet her arms stayed stock still. Red blood was pouring out of them from gashes that kept multiplying.

Fayette was kneeling over one arm trying to staunch the blood. Desteniy was on the other side trying to do the same. Niane knelt over the girl holding down the writhing body with her own.

“It won’t stop flowing.”

“There can’t be this much in her. It is leaking from something else.” Three sets of eyes met as realization dawned.

“Her twin.”

Later after the blood stopped flowing and the Vortex drifted back into stillness the bloodied caretakers decided that now was the time. There was much to get prepared and obviously not enough time to do it well.

They would have to skip many parts of the ceremony and just pray that they did not matter as much as the old book said they did. The sisters prepared the room while Niane searched for the components needed for the ritual.

“We must purify this place as fast as possible Niane might return at any moment.” Fayette nodded at her sister and they began to cleanse the room. Desteniy scrubbed the floor where blood had spilled over from the bed. Fayette lit incense and candles to clear the air from the coppery smell. Flowers were placed around the walls and draped over the door.

The fur on the bed, drenched in the girl’s blood, was removed to reveal deep grooves cut into the stone. One ran from the top of the bed to a shallow basin where the girl’s head was now laid. The second ran from the left side to underneath the girl’s body joining the one that ran from the right. A network of thin lines spun a spider’s web under her body.

Runes covered the carved niches shining with a soft blue light. None of the guardians knew what the runes meant, they were far older and had captured Dreamers since the beginning of time.

The girl in all her naked glory appeared unreal bathed in the shining runes. The heavy iron door opened and Niane returned. With her an old woman dressed in rags, a young female dressed little better. They fought on the chains that bound them until they caught sight of the chamber.

In Niane’s arms lay an infant slumbering deeply. Desteniy unchained the young woman and held her to the Dreamer’s left; Fayette guided the old woman to her right. Niane moved to her head with the child cradled safely in her embrace.

“To you Sleeper I offer this old blood to make you wise and value life.” Fayette slammed the old woman’s head into the groove. Thick blood ran from the crushed skull startling the young woman who began struggling.

“To you Dreamer I offer this matured blood to make you strong and capable.” Desteniy ended the woman’s fear in death. The second groove filled and joined the first; the blood mixed swirling together in a flawless dance.

“To you Vortex I offer this new blood to make you innocent and forever young.” Niane dropped the child and smashed her small head. The baby never had the chance to cry. Blood saturated the stone bed and its occupant. Silver white hair turned into dark red as her body sank into the warm sustenance.

The runes shifted in all the colors of the spectrum giving off a faint hum. The three watchers joined bloodied hands and bowed their heads in concentration. Niane opened her eyes and squeezed her companion’s hands. Silver eyes stared at the ceiling, they were unfocused and distant.

“Is this a new world?” A quiet voice, husky from disuse broke the silence.

“This is the true world.”

“You are the lights.”

“Yes.” Mercurial orbs fastened on Fayette.

“Where is he?”

Silence.

“We are not sure. Niane found you alone.” The steady gaze moved to the ranger.

“Where did you get me?”

“A group of gypsies had you for sale.”

“I must find him.” She sat up hampered by the chains at her wrists and ankles. Before the three could move the shackles were unsnapped and the girl slid out of the bed, blood streaming from her body creating a macabre path behind her.

Dawn painted light over the mountains containing the Hall of Dreams. The entire structure was shrouded in ever present mists only the very top of the spires peeked out into the sunshine. Inside a flurry of movement heralded the first successful Awakening.

The guardians were putting together everything they could think of that she would need while the girl herself sat on top of the highest roof and gazed at the reality surrounding her. It had been a struggle for her to realize that her powers were limited in this world. She was no longer able to manipulate the world by pure thought.

She felt the cold tendrils of fog wrap around her ankles. She glared half heartedly at them. The wispy fingers ignored her heated gaze and continued their icy massage. Her gray eyes closed and she felt the tug of incorporeal worlds calling her back to them.

“Keaira.” Silver eyes snapped open at the ranger’s voice. It was still hard for her to associate her spheres of light with these mundane forms.

“You must return inside. The snows will sicken you.” The girl turned towards the mail clad woman beside the window. Keaira struggled to remember the name attached to her closest guardian.

“I like it out here.” Keaira turned her eyes back to the glistening landscape.

“So you will waste time here and allow your brother to fall into death?” Niane’s voice cracked sharply with disapproval. Keaira’s shoulders stiffened and she made her way back inside the tower. She passed Niane without a sideways glance and paused at her reflection residing in one of the many mirrors. Sun streamed through the archway of glass and turned her silver hues almost golden. A pale blue dress melted over her ivory skin, clinging to curves and hanging straight to the floor. Her eyes connected with yellow ones and then dropped to the outfit the ranger had been holding. A short pleated grey skirt and pleated shirt. A black sash was slung over Niane’s right shoulder.

“Those are the garments of servants.” Keaira stared disdainfully at the cloth bundle. Niane sighed and handed the clothes to her snotty charge. Keaira threw the outfit onto the floor. Turning towards the window she refused to meet Niane’s eyes.


“Let’s get this over with.” Niane set the outfit on the windowsill and left the Dreamer to her own devices. Hours later and many compromises the sisters watched as Niane lead the object of their lives off into the wilderness. Desteniy was the first to speak.

“I hope she finds herself.”

“Only then will she find her brother and save us all.” Fayette replied. Then as one they intoned their final spell over the fair heroine.

“To create this world she slept
To protect this world she dreamed
To save this world she awoke.”

“Keaira never did find her brother. Actually she ended up losing herself along the way. Niane tried the best she could to protect the Dreamer. Everything had been going just fine until they reached the plains and encountered humans. Keaira fell in love with a man who gave her glittering promises and silver lies. She lost the will to find her sibling. The world cracked, starting with the Hall of Dreams. The End.”

“Grandma…” A young child’s voice echoed oddly in the empty waiting room. “Is Kayse the next Sleeper? Is that why he won’t wake up?” Hopeful eyes peered up at the old woman.

“He just might be.” Satisfied the child returned to the row of plastic chairs designated as her bed for the night. Soft footsteps in the hallway heralded the entrance of the resident.

“Any news?” The old woman rose from her seat, showing enthusiasm that had been lost for days.

“I am so sorry. Your grandson is brain dead. There is nothing more we can do for him.” The doctor tried to be as blunt as possible, knowing things just worsened if he tried to string family members along. Her aged eyes clouded over as her body lost its newfound energy. She slumped back into her chair with tears running down her wrinkled face.

“Would you like to see him again?” The grandmother looked at the sleeping child beside her and nodded. She shuffled out of the room behind the man in the immaculate white coat. Once she was out of sight the child opened her eyes. Tears swam before her brown eyes and she allowed them to stream down her face.

“You promised you would never leave…you promised…”