Loki's Apprentice: A Tale Retold

Chapter 47: Unavoidable Streams of Memory

Evelyn always found the realm of dreams unsettling.

You could recognize people for who they were, even if they wore different faces. Or better yet, a place could be utterly foreign and new to you, and yet, you somehow still knew it was home.

That was how she felt walking through the dark forest of her dreams.

Before her, she could see the courtyard of the hibernating trees and a castle shrouded in darkness. Everything looked barren and forgotten, like a relic of the past forgotten in war amongst the rubble.

And yet, in her heart, she recognized it as the place she called home for the duration of the past year.

She raised her hand without thinking, and felt more like a dazed observer as her body took control.

Her hand slowly pushed forward, as if waiting to come upon some kind of resistance. Somehow, it did hit resistance.

Just as she saw with Nessa in the wood that one night, the barrier revealed its dome in a flash of icy blue—denying her access.

In the dim light she hadn't noticed, but now illuminated by this magic of protection her attention was brought to the very sheer gloves that hugged the skin of her hands. Brilliantly crimson and translucent to the point it made her flesh appear to glow on its own with the very color.

Perhaps a form of tulle?

She never had seen such an accessory, or let alone owned such a thing. She remembered very little, if not anything at all, of the luxuries of Asgards from the time of her family's prosperity. The only remnants of that life were the moth eaten dresses in the yellow chest, for they had been too out of style to sell.

As Evelyn continued inspecting the gloves, she realized that it didn't stop at the skin of her wrists, but continued up her sleeved arm and to the rest of her body.

A strange and unexplainable encasement of red.

Upon a closer look, what she had once thought as fabric now seemed to shimmer and move. Small particles, what she mistook as the netting of tulle, oscillated and traded spots with one another in a feverish dance.

It was a thin screen of moving liquid, pressed tightly against every part of her being.

Her dream self didn't seem bewildered by this revelation, instead she continued to push against the barrier as if she was strong enough to break it. The blue light against her hands flickered momentarily. The stutter was similar to a person being taken aback bye something, blinking quickly in confusion.

She felt a grin pull at her lips in satisfaction as she felt a slight give to the wall.

The magic of the barrier snapped and sizzled against her, but nonetheless gave way to her pressing form.

Evelyn awoke with a start, bolting upright into her chair, not realizing she had fallen asleep reading to her father.

The book that had rested in her lap while she slept had fallen to the floor with a very loud thud.

Evelyn grimaced, immediately glancing to see if it had awoken her father, but he showed no inclination of stirring. His shaky breathing had change drastically to  strong deep breaths, and color was finally returning to his face.

Nessa had surprisingly been true to her word. Evelyn half expected for something far worse to happen, but seeing him so weak in bed struggling with each breath she had realized she had to take a chance with the witch's brew.

With a few days of rest—her family were insistent that she remain utterly still, if she refused to sleep—Evelyn felt a small measure of strength return to her bones. She had been terribly weak when she finally made it home. She hadn't known her horse had stopped until she heard the cry of her brother, and saw the shadowy forms of her siblings surround her. Her heart swelled as her brothers embraced her and carried her into the house, and tears streamed as she saw her sister's faces around her, trying to ascertain her state of being.