The Man From My Dreams

The Man From My Dreams
They only say those two words before the voices go quiet again.

Except this time, the quiet is loud.

It’s as if a wave of air hit the palace. The wall hums with energy. It’s not a physical vibration, just a feeling I get deep in my chest. The floor beneath my feet turns hot, the air thickening around me, pressing gently against my skin.

I don’t stop walking, feeling a pull that forces me to walk deeper.

My heart begins to beat faster with recognition. I don’t understand it. Nothing around me has changed, yet every instinct inside me whispers to me.

Keep walking. Get closer. You’ll find it.

My feet refuse to hesitate. I don’t fight it. I don’t even think to. I only know that whatever I’ve been searching for my entire life is somewhere ahead.

The warmth beneath my feet spreads through the stone. Lights brighten over my head.

Vaelor stops walking. Soren does too. Neither of them says a word, but I see them exchange a look. They can feel it too. It’s only Kaan that stays oblivious at my side, still only immersed int he grandeur of the building.

They stop in the middle of the hallway, the wall beside us rippling. It sounds like a small creek, like water rushing over stones and sticks.

Vaelor smiles at me, passing through the wall, and the rest of us follow. I look over my shoulder, watching as the wall turns to solid stone once more.

No guards stand watch. It’s so different to how Dastan and Jakko run their kingdoms. There is a freedom and openness that I’ve never experienced until now.

I can’t stop staring at everything. It’s like there is something impossible at every turn. Plants grow from the walls without soil. Glass spheres drift lazily through the air, lighting the place in light.

I feel like I’ve stepped into a dream.

Vaelor slows, and Soren matches his pace beside him until, together, they come to a stop. I nearly walk into them. For the first time since entering the palace, I see doors.

Two, large, identical doors.

They tower above us, carved from pale wood threaded with veins of silver that look like water. Branches twist across them in patterns, their roots intertwining around two ravens facing one another, wings spread wide.

Are the doors alive?

Vaelor and Soren lower themselves onto one knee at the same time. The movement was so sudden that I instinctively take a step back. Neither of them lifts his head.

“Your Majesty,” Vaelor says softly. “Beyond these doors are the Kind and Queen of Mortuorum.”

My breath catches. The world narrows until all I can see are the doors. Since I’ve left the only home I’ve ever known, I have thought and wondered and imagined who my parents might be.

If they’re kind, or if they love me, or if they searched for me. Had they forgotten me the moment I disappeared?

My chest tightens until it hurts to breathe. Behind those doors are two people who have never heard my voice and now, probably never will. My fingers curl into my palms. What if they look at me and don’t recognize me? What if they don’t like what they see?

I lower my eyes, pressing my lips tightly together. I don’t even know if I want to be their daughter, if I want to stay here. Not when every piece of my heart still belongs in another world.

Still, a warmth blooms beneath my ribs. Pulling me toward the doors.

I move before anyone can stop me. The doors open on their own, as if sensing my presence. For a moment, Kaan, Vaelor and Soren disappear.

Light pours through a ceiling so high I can’t see where it ends. It feeds a garden in the middle of the room, trees and flowers and bushes.

But that only keeps my attention for so long.

Across the greenery, a man stands with his back to me. He’s tall and broad shouldered. He rests one hand behind his back, over black robes that wash over his back and trail behind him on the floor.

His hair moves as he speaks, his other hand moving animatedly.

Everything inside me freezes. I know that posture. I know that hand. I know that hair. My heart beats in my throat until I feel as if I might choke. I’ve watched him stand like that beneath moonlight. I’ve watched him smile before turning toward me.

I know him. The memory strikes so suddenly that my vision blurs.

A deep chuckle comes from behind a tree, and a tall man with hair as black as night steps out into the clearing.

“You’re getting better.” He smiles, resting his hands on his hips. His eyes are a combination of browns and coppers, warm and loving. Familiar and comforting.

My heart begins to race faster and then I’m struggling to breathe. I press a hand to my throat, as if that alone can stop the panic settling inside me.

I’m conflicted, my body still with the need to run to him and embrace him and the fact that no matter how often I have seen him in my dreams… he is still a stranger.

The man slowly turns, his brown eyes catching in the light.

There’s a woman behind him, the person he had been talking to when we walked in. She frowns, dark eyebrows framing her dark eyes. She looks between us, clearly not aware of the connection.

But the man?

His eyes widen, skin going pale as he takes in every inch of my form. His gaze lingers on my hair, then my face. Then the rings circling my fingers. His lips part, but no sound comes.

I watch his throat work as he swallows. One slow step carries him closer to me, then another. He doesn’t seem aware that he’s moving. His eyes never leave mine.

The woman looks between us, confusion knitting her brow. “Zenon?”

He doesn’t answer. His breathing grows uneven, his chest rising sharply beneath his robes. He stops only a few feet in front of me.

Close enough that I can finally see the tiny lines around his eyes. The silver threaded through strands of his black hair. The way his hands tremble ever so slightly at his sides.

His lips tremble, and when he finally speaks, his voice is barely louder than a breath. “Vaelyra.”

I frown, not recognizing the name, and yet knowing that it’s mine.

The woman gasps. I tear my eyes away from him just long enough to look at her.

Tears spill down her cheeks. One hand flies to her mouth, her entire body shaking as she stares at me. “No, it can’t be true.”

She takes one hesitant step toward me. Her eyes searching my face desperately. A sob escapes her. “My baby.”

The words strike somewhere so deep inside me that my knees nearly give out. I stare at her. At the tears she isn’t trying to hide.

I don’t need anymore confirmation. Don’t need more time or more conversations.

This… this is my mother.

And my father.