Dream Eater (m|m)

Chapter 14

"Fucking asshole!" I scream, throwing a pillow in the general direction of Damien's voice. "Next time you kidnap me across dimensions, fucking tell me to close my goddamned fucking eyes!"

It's Day Three since I woke up blind, and my vision is only marginally improved. Allannan seems encouraged that it's improved at all, but I feel close to despair at this point.

Damien has remained at my side with a constancy that would be sweet if it wasn't so annoying.

And if he hadn't made it so abundantly clear he's only interested in the fragment of Heavenly Key I carry in my fucked-up soul.

"Alex, please. I'm sure your vision will return in full soon. In the meantime, I'll do whatever you need. You just have to be patient."

"Fuck patient!" I know I'm being whiney and obnoxious at this point, but honestly, I'm bored, and this is more entertaining than sitting in the courtyard and listening to the water fountains for hours.

Which is about all I've been doing for the past three days.

I had plenty of time to review my life choices and come to the conclusion that they all sucked ass. Especially the choice to answer a job alert from one Damien Knight.

Like an idiot who continues to hold a hissing cat, Damien comes and sits next to me on the bed.

"Alex, I'm really sorry. I know you're scared, and frustrated, and angry. I just need you to hang in there a little longer. I promise your sight will return."

He brushes his hand over my hair, and I jerk away. Then, abruptly, my energy is gone, and I don't feel like fighting anymore. I sigh and submit as he runs a comb through my tangled curls.

He's assured me more times than I can count that we're safe here, but for some reason, I can't quite relax enough to believe it.

Allannan and Deberon seem nice enough, and from Damien's descriptions, Carnâk seems like a great place.

Apparently, it's like a state within a wider region. The architecture sounds similar to the Byzantine style on Earth: lots of colorful mosaics, pillars, arches, domed roofs, and towering spires. 

The city we're in is called Ereb, and Damien tells me it's a mishmash of Venice, Istanbul, and Babylon, with lots of watery thoroughfares, vertical gardens, and stunning architecture.

He tells me it's very beautiful. If I could see it, I'm sure I'd agree.

"We've been invited to a special session of the Council today," Damien tells me now. "Allannan holds a seat in the lower chamber, and she's going to propose a movement to extend asylum to us. If it passes, we'll be able to stay here as long as we like under the protection of Carnâk and it's people."

"I don't know what that means," I respond, going for reasonable but coming off sulky and miserable. Which is how I feel.

Damien doesn't say anything for a minute. "This Realm is kind of like...Switzerland," he said. "It stayed neutral during the rebellion, although many--especially here in Carnâk--sympathized with Sakariel and his cause. If we're given asylum, we'll be safer here than just about anywhere else in the Multiverse."

I sigh resignedly. "Again... No idea what that means."

He huffs out a laugh. "Sakariel was never this difficult," he says. "Or this--"

Whatever he was going to say gets cut off when someone knocks on the door. Which is fortunate for him, because his words have stirred the ashes of my fury--impotent though it may be.

Deberon's voice greets us. "Damien, Alex--Blessings of Eos upon you. Are you ready to attend the Council?"

"A few moments, Deberon," Damien replies.

"Very good. I'll wait outside."

The door closes again, but Damien remains silent and still.

After a long pause, he says, "Alex, whatever happens today, please know that I am on your side. I am sworn to protect the Key, but that doesn't mean I'm insensate to your feelings. I know you want to go home, and that you'd rather be anywhere but here with me, but...I'm glad it's you. I'm glad that whatever piece of Sakariel survived, it found a new life in someone so...luminous."

Once more, no idea what he means, but it seems stupid to say so. Instead, I shrug. "Hey, it could be worse. I could be dead. Or still with my ex."

He chuckles, and helps me into a set of fresh clothes. They seem almost normal: loose, low-waisted trousers and a long tunic-like shirt. The neckline is a little low, but the temperature always hovers just around perfect here, so it doesn't bother me.

We join Deberon in the hallway outside, and he leads the way down the long corridor and then outside. Damien guides me down long, winding pathways and endless flights of stairs until I hear the soft gurgle and rush of water. We reach the bank of a river and board a wide, flat barge that carries us swiftly downstream.

When we disembark, we walk along what feels like miles of gently sloping stone streets, until we arrive at the Council Courtyard, which Damien tells me looks a bit like the Colosseum in Rome.

Inside, I hear the murmur and clamor of many voices, which fall silent as we take our seats.

At first, I try to pay attention, but I've never had much interest in politics, and it seems like the issue of our asylum is a minor note that won't be addressed for quite some time. Before I know it, I'm nodding off in my seat, lulled into a sort of half-sleep by the monotonous drone of self-important voices.

Eventually, Damien nudges me awake. "It passed," he says, sounding ecstatic. "We're safe."

I try to feel happy about this and fail. "That's great," I say. "What now?"

"Well, now that we're officially under the protection of the state, we'll be welcomed as honored guests. Allannan will hold a banquet in our honor in a few days. She'll also spread the word among the Faithful that the Key has been found. I think that more than a few of our old allies will be delighted to meet you, Alex."

I wish I felt the same.

"Great." I try to smile. "I love parties."

~

By the time the day of the banquet arrives, I can see the vague outlines of things. Allannan assures me this is amazing progress, and that I can expect a full recovery in just a few more days. I have to admit I'm feeling a lot more hopeful than I was, and I'm even able to muster a semblance of enthusiasm for the weird party I'm being forced to attend.

Damien helps me dress in the appropriate party attire, which feels like an uncomfortably thin layer of silk.

"Are you sure this is what I'm supposed to wear?" I ask.

He assures me it's entirely modest, and that it's the latest fashion. For the first time, I'm glad I can't see.

I follow him to the central atrium, where the guests are gathered. It seems like they're enjoying some strangely ethereal flute-like music and chatting just loudly enough to almost drown it out.

Damien takes me by the arm and leads me into the fray. After what seems like an interminable eon of meeting and greeting, we finally come to rest beside an enormous stone pillar. I lean against it, exhausted. I amuse myself by inventing different excuses for leaving early.

I've just decided to go with 'ruptured appendix,' when a stentorian voice erupts so close to my ear I jump about a foot in the air.

"Dantalian!? Surely not..."

I feel Damien's hand tighten on my arm.

"Oran...Is that really you?"

He releases me, and I hear the sound of two bodies colliding in an embrace.

"Oh, my brother," says the new voice. "It has truly been too long."