After an officer finds an unconscious boy dressed in medieval clothing and discovers he has no memories of where he came from, she decides to take him under her wing. She realizes quickly, however, that medieval clothing is not the only thing that m...
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I knew I wasn't dead because I had another dream. Only this time...it wasn't a memory. It was a vision. And I had a feeling it was happening at the very moment I was seeing it.
It began with a woman surrounded by a mass of tangled trees. The trees were thin and twisted and seemed to reach out toward the woman like dark, gnarled fingers. The grass was dry and yellowed, and faint cries of some undistinguishable animal rang out in the distance. I recognized this place to be the Great Forest; the most foul, darkest corner of it, most likely.
The woman was tall and slender. She wore a black tattered dress and a dark cloak. She had long, tangled raven hair that hung below her waist. Small leaves and twigs stuck out from her locks and gave her a rather eccentric appearance. Her face was pale and gaunt with dark circles underneath her black eyes. She looked to be in her mid-twenties, though her hardened expression and the way her lips turned down in a permanent grimace made her look much older. She also might have been beautiful many years ago, but her darkened demeanor caused her to radiate an unnatural coldness that distorted her features.
She stood very still with her arm extended. Something glinted in her hand, and her eyes were trained, unblinking, upon it. After a few moments, I recognized it to be a dagger. But it was not the dagger itself that the woman was so transfixed upon, it was the images that flashed across its silvery surface.
The images were a bit vague and hazy at first, but then they became as clear and real as if I were actually there. Which in fact I was, because this strange woman happened to be watching our recent battle.
The scenes were mostly of Arthur, but I did see myself a few times as well. I watched as I fought that boy and finally used magic to keep him at bay. Fortunately, my back was to the woman's view, so she was unable to see my face. The woman's eyes flashed dangerously at that particular part. But then the images drifted back to Arthur, and I noticed the woman's jaw harden at the very sight of my friend. I knew immediately she loathed him. Why, I could not fathom, but her grip on the dagger tightened as if she wished to somehow plunge into the battle and impale him herself.
But she didn't need to, because then came the part where Arthur was stabbed by the attacker. Seeing it once was bad enough, but watching it again was simply unbearable. I watched as the cloaked figure rose from Arthur's side and bellowed an incantation. The woman's dagger turned dark blue from the light of the flames I had created.
The scene suddenly shifted entirely from the battle. I saw Arthur lying in his bed. His chest rose and fell slowly and rhythmically. The color had returned to his cheeks and his face looked less gaunt and lifeless. My gaze turned to someone sitting in a chair beside him, his head and chest strewn on the edge of his mattress. With a start I realized it was me.
I looked horrible, as if I was the one who'd been stabbed instead of Arthur. I lay spread-eagled, frail and exhausted. My skin was extremely pale almost to the point where it held a waxen, translucent look to it.
