Sirens And Sins {HIATUS}

4. Foofaraw

The moment Marshall realized he was in a dream, he immediately wanted to wake up. There was something about his dreams that gave him an uncomfortable feeling. It was never always like this. When Marshall was a young boy, he used to dream about faraway places. He dreamed about unnamed animals and strange adventures he could never remember when he woke up. He didn't know when all that changed.

The dreams never started the same, yet they always ended the same disturbing way. This time, Marshall was drowning in a murky black sea. His lungs were filling with black smudge and noxious fumes. He tried to scream and ask for help, but his mouth filled up with the strange smudge, choking him. He reached up into the thick darkness, heart thudding in fear as his fingers grasped nothing. I'm going to die, repeated in his head, growing louder and louder with each passing second. Without warning, he thought with plummeting fear, I'm going to die like my father.

A strange melody then filled his ears, slowing down his heart and relaxing his tense muscles. It curled around him and draped across his shoulder like a comforting arm. It was unfamiliar but warmed him up in a way that reminded him of his late mother's kisses and his father's embraces.

Something grabbed his arm and pulled him into a large, richly furnished hallway. Light appeared out of nowhere and temporarily blinded his eyes. Marshall rubbed his eyes and looked around, dread already filling his stomach. He was in this part of the dream already.

Paintings lined the walls, their stone-faced bearers glowering at him. Marshall knew where he was immediately. He ran down these halls a million times with his older brother when they were younger. Royal Kaylock ancestors filled the hallway, from the first king of Glaeya to the most recent. They all shared the same key characteristics that made them true kings. They shared the same hazel eyes, slanted eyebrows, and firm set of their mouths. Marshall gazed at them, flinching as his eyes rested on the last painting. He knew it was there, it always was.

Glaring down at him was a portrait of Elliot Kaylock, the most recent king of Glaeya. A crown resting on his unkempt blonde curls. His lips were curved into a frown, and his eyes shot daggers into Marshall's as if he knew what he was going to do. Disdain wafted out of the painting, filling the hallway with a hate so strong it began deteriorating the carpeting. The edges crumbled as if it was ashes, and the cream colored walls darkened. Smoke floated in the room from an unseen source. Elliot was going to burn.

Marshall's mouth moved on their own. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Elliot's painting seemed to say, Prove it.

Marshall took a dangerous step forwards and reached out to touch it. Before he could, flames licked up the painting and filled the hallway. Marshall was plunged into an inferno.

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Marshall groaned and cracked his eyes open. His eyes adjusted to the bright light of whatever cabin he was in. He spread his fingers across the cotton blanket he was laying on. The bed felt uncomfortably cool with the dream still buzzing in his head. The blurry, wooden walls of the ship entered his line of vision. Marshall could see blobs of color floating around him. He groaned again as he rolled over to his side, hoping to find a more comfortable position. His back cracked as he moved, alerting a certain presence to his wakefulness.

"Prince Marshall, you're awake!"

Marshall sighed as the voice of the ship's medical doctor filled his ears. Marshall was the one who suggested that he come on the journey with him. Marshall had hoped that the doctor could help the ship's passengers whenever a medical problem arose. Yet he never imagined that he would need the doctor. Even when he was living in the palace, Marshall was never one to get sick or injured. Most often it was Elliot, who had a knack for getting the worst end of the health stick. Even now, Marshall could only recall once in his life when he had to be brought into the palace's medical wing.