WRONG CHOICE

17

a little over a month had passed, and it was now the middle of December.

there were mere days left until Christmas break, and Tom had made little to no progress in both working out what our dream meant and opening the Chamber.

Tom had spent the last five weeks in the library, trying to find a book that explained our shared dream.

every day he returned to our office empty handed and the look in his eyes was becoming more vacant.

he often snapped at me when i suggested we ask for help, then apologised with a sigh.

i knew he was growing stressed and i wanted to help, but his foul mood was rubbing off on me.

i was sat in our office, massaging my aching temples as i re-read the same line of the book i was studying, unable to make the words make sense.

the door opened and Tom walked in.

i didn't need to look up to know he'd have a sour expression on his face.

there was a thump as a thick, dust covered book landed on my desk.

"The Art of Dream-Walking," i read the title and looked up at Tom.

i was wrong—his expression was triumphant and there was a faint light behind his eyes.

"you found it," i breathed.

"i told you i would." he shrugged as if it had taken him five minutes, not five weeks.

"i can't believe you've done it," i laughed, flicking through the pages.

"don't get excited just yet." he opened the book and flipped through the pages.

he landed on a page close to the middle and pointed to a section near the bottom.

if two people are in the "same" dream, as in the same description, same people, perhaps even saw each other in the dream, then there is a strong likelihood that it was a prophetic dream. magic is foretelling something important in one of the people's lives, and the other person, because they are so close to and/or have an influence on each other.

"a prophetic dream?" i asked faintly.

he pushed his tongue into his cheek and nodded, unable to meet my eye.

"you told me it wasn't."

Tom ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "we've got the closure, Aura. we should leave it alone now."

"but you're going to murder someone!" my voice rose.

"keep your voice down," he was immediately by my side. "i'm not murdering anyone."

"it was a prophetic dream, Tom."

"they don't always come true," he was stressing again. "i wouldn't let it get to that."

"let what get to that?"

but he wasn't listening, he was staring around the room vacantly, his breaths growing shorter and sharper.

he looked a lot like a cornered deer and i has no idea how i could help.

"Tom...?" i touched his arm lightly.

he looked down at me with his usual cold expression, as if he hadn't been just about to have a panic attack.

i was stunned how quickly his emotions could change.

"Aura," he said softly. "i don't know what to do."

"i can help you, Tom," i held his arm more firmly. "just tell me what you need."