Chapter 90 THE DREAMING PATH

Chapter 90 THE DREAMING PATH

Darkness wrapped around me, warm and heavy, like sinking into deep water—but not frightening. Not empty. It felt… familiar. Like the quiet place I used to go when I was small and afraid and hiding in blankets, waiting for the world to soften.

Except this darkness wasn’t dark.
It shimmered.

Threads of light drifted around me, floating like fireflies made of pure possibility—thin, delicate strands that hummed as they passed. Each one whispered something. A memory. A choice. A moment I never lived. A moment I could live.

A thousand futures.

A thousand versions of myself.

One laughing.
One fighting.
One older.
One glowing brighter than stars.
One standing beside a shadowy figure whose face I couldn’t see.
One crying.
One becoming something huge and terrifying and beautiful.

All of them were me.
None of them were me.

I didn’t know which one I was supposed to become.

I reached out and touched a thread.

Light engulfed me.

I saw myself standing on a mountain, hands glowing, rewriting storms with a flick of my wrist. I felt the world bending to me—afraid of me. Depending on me. Too heavy.

No.
Not that.

Another thread touched my cheek.

I saw myself older, quiet, surrounded by people seeking answers. A guide. A compass. A voice. No power in my hands—only wisdom. Only questions that shaped entire generations.

My chest tightened.

Not that either.

A third thread brushed my fingertips.

I saw myself beside my parents—my mother glowing softly with the ledger’s light, my father burning gold—walking into a world that bowed as we passed, but not out of fear. Out of recognition. Out of hope.

Something in me ached toward that one.

But even that wasn’t fully me.

The threads drifted around me, some warm, some cold, some sharp enough to cut my thoughts. I didn’t know how to choose. I didn’t know what I wanted to be. I didn’t know who I was supposed to be.

A gentle voice whispered behind me.

“You do not choose a future, little one. You shape one.”

I turned.

A woman stood there—tall, graceful, her hair drifting in a wind that wasn’t blowing. Her face was soft, glowing, familiar and unfamiliar all at once. Her eyes were silver, like the Eldreth—but kind. Gentle.

“Who are you?” I whispered.

Her smile warmed the darkness. “A memory of something that could have been. A guide. A shadow. Nothing real. But real enough to speak to you.”

“You’re not one of them?” I asked. “The Eldreth?”

“No,” she said softly. “They want to take what belongs to you. I want to help you see it.”

“See what?” I asked.

She reached out, touching my forehead with her fingertip. Warm light bloomed.

“Who you are.”

I blinked.

The darkness shifted.

Suddenly I stood inside a familiar memory—my father lifting me high in the air, laughing as he spun me around. My mother watching from the doorway with a soft smile. The smell of bread in the oven. A tiny melody humming in the back of my mind—the same one they always sang to me before bed.

Warmth bloomed in my chest.

“That,” the woman whispered behind me, “is your beginning.”

Another flash.

I saw myself standing between my parents during the Unformed attack, power sparking under my skin as I tried to protect them. My father holding me so tightly his arms trembled. My mother whispering that she loved me, even as the world shook around us.

“That is your anchor.”

Another flash.

I saw myself standing alone—older, taller—facing a horizon filled with shadows and light. My parents behind me. The guardian beside me. Thalen watching with a strange mix of awe and fear.

My chest burned.

“That,” the woman said gently, “is your path.”

I turned to her. “But which one am I supposed to become?”

Her expression softened. “All of them. None of them. Your future is not a single path. You are not a river. You are the storm that decides where the river flows.”

I swallowed. “But I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Her smile grew sad. “Then choose futures built from kindness, not fear. Choose connection, not isolation.”

“I don’t want to be like Thalen,” I whispered. “Alone. Heavy. Afraid.”

“Then don’t,” she said simply. “Your vow bound you to something he never had. Love. Family. That is your difference.”

A thread floated in front of me—bright gold, warm and pulsing like a heartbeat. I reached out instinctively.

It wrapped gently around my wrist.

The woman whispered, “Follow that.”

I looked up sharply. “Where does it lead?”

But she was already fading.

“Home.”

Light exploded around me.

Darkness peeled away.

And the world rushed in.

I gasped—

—and my eyes flew open.

I was lying in my father’s arms.

The sky above me was dim, streaked with violet. The guardian loomed protectively nearby. Elias slept sitting upright against a boulder. Tessa kept watch with her blade across her lap. Harven sat with his head bowed.

My mother gasped sharply.

“LIRA!”

Kaelen nearly dropped me as he pulled me into a fierce embrace, voice shaking so hard it didn’t sound like him at all.

“My star—my star—you’re awake—gods—Lira—”

My mother pressed her forehead to mine, her tears warm against my skin. “We’re here. We’re right here.”

I smiled weakly.

“You found me.”

Kaelen kissed my hair. “We never stopped.”

Thalen stood a few feet away—watching with something raw and vulnerable in his stone eyes.

“You have returned,” he said softly.

I nodded. “I chose.”

He dipped his head slowly, almost reverently. “And what did you choose to become?”

I lifted my hand.

A gold thread of light pulsed faintly around my wrist, glowing with the same warmth I felt inside.

“A path,” I whispered. “My own.”

Kaelen breathed out—relief flooding him so hard it made his shoulders shake.

But then—

The ground trembled.

The sky dimmed.

And a whisper rolled across the valley:

“She has awakened.”

The Eldreth.

They were returning.