Within These Tangled Tales

Chapter Twenty

—Rynbelle, Namera, Velara—

It was a dream. She knew it was, and yet it felt so real. She stood at Idelle's side, watching as her cousin worked tirelessly to save their uncle. Her aether was depleted. She had worked herself too hard and one wrong misstep and the attempt to extract the poison would kill them both. In a dream, Idelle couldn't hear her, but Ori reached out anyway, hoping that if she was wrong, if this was not a dream, her words would reach Idelle. And they did. Or, at least, they seemed to. Idelle extracted a poison Ori had only seen once, but then, the connection was severed.

In the blink of an eye, she left Idelle, finding herself instead with Lulu, her cousin's head bowed, shoulders shaking ever so slightly as she tried to hide her tears. Ori reached out again, her hand aimed at Lulu's left shoulder. It passed through her, but Lulu seemed to sense her, just as Idelle had. Lulu turned but could not see her, it seemed. Ori tried to speak, but her voice had vanished, leaving her to stand there helplessly instead.

A chill ran down her spine. Ori stilled, sensing for the thing that scurried along in the shadows. Its aether growled in the darkness. Whatever it was, it was old, very old, and brimming with power. It crept along the walls of the keep, its focus on her, she could feel. But just as it neared, the dream changed once more.

Her father knelt before her dead body, his face awash with anguish as he began to rock slowly at the sight before him. The shock of seeing herself lying there, throat cut, heart ripped out unsettled her more than anything she had seen. It was her, down to the last detail. Her father tried not to weep, gripping the blanket ever tighter. Again, Ori tried to speak, but her voice remained lost. Frustrated, she sent out a pulse of aether, hoping, at least, they could feel her presence. She was not dead, she wanted to scream. Her father looked so broken, so lost. She couldn't do that to him. The aether swept over the corpse, dispelling—a glamor? It was a Changeling who had assumed her form.

Ori frowned as she knelt down, studying the man's features. Why would he steal her face? What goal could he possibly have? No, she shook her head. The goal was not his. Someone else had used him—to what end?

A glint of metal caught her eye. There, in her father's hand, her brooch. But how? Her brooch was pinned to her cloak—wasn't it? So distracted, Ori didn't feel the darkness approaching until a shadow curled around her throat.

"Tick tock," a sinister voice chuckled in her ear. "You're time's almost up. The hour grows late. Another vessel to fill the cup. I wonder how you'll taste? Just like the last...or a new flavor to slake my thirst?"

Ori whirled around but the shadow vanished, its deep laughter echoing all around her.

Ori woke with a start. She didn't hesitate, leaping from her bedroll, hands reaching for her cloak before the dream had fully dissipated. Adix was awake in the next instant as well, sword drawn. She heard his confused whispers, but she didn't answer, too concentrated on her task. Her brooch. It was gone. She whirled around to find her rucksack instead. She tore everything from it, every last trinket, note, and vial of medicine, but the brooch was not there.

"Ce'laine?" Adix knelt at her side.

Her panicked awakening had disturbed several others, including the guards who stood on watch. Adix waved away their concerns as he watched her curiously.

"My brooch," she answered finally, her voice strained. "It's gone. I had it with me when we fought at the Guardian. I thought it was still on my cloak in Korintha, but...it's not here."