188

188
Arvin pov

The dream doesn’t start the same way anymore. It used to be soft - a field, a river, a sky that stretched so far I couldn’t imagine falling. But now? Now the sky cracks open like bone and bleeds voices I don’t recognize. They echo, curl through my ribs and speak in a language I’ve never learned but somehow still understand.

It whispers my name. But the bigger problem is that the name they whisper isn’t even fully mine. Somehow, I know it’s a name buried under my real one.

I wake up gasping, my heart racing like a crazed, wild horse in the fields, trying to escape an invisible tormentor that’s trying to catch it.

My hands clutch at the blanket wrapped around me, my chest tight, throat raw like I’ve been screaming for hours. I’m alone, there’s no one to look after me, to soothe and calm me after yet another nightmare and I don’t know if this is really what I truly want.

I can imagine how this would go if I didn’t leave everyone behind - Riven would be there, next to me in an instant, kneeling near me, his hands already reaching for me while worry would be etched deep in his eyes.

And worst of all, while sitting here, heaving for my breath like I’m drowning, my mind decides to play out the exact scenario my life would follow.

I can almost hear Riven’s voice, imagining his soulful eyes look over me as if he’s looking for any proof I might be hurt. “Hey, Arvin, breathe. Just breathe, it’s okay, I got you, I got you.” He would mutter.

I don’t know what hurts more - the fact that I want to believe those imaginary words or the knowledge that some part of me doesn’t anymore.

“It’s the voice again,” I rasp out as if Riven is truly here, letting my mind play with the scenario it’s imagining purely for comfort. “It keeps talking and it’s not mine.”

I imagine Riven stiffening and trying to hide it, but even like this, I can almost feel his reaction - real or not, I still do.

Slowly, I lean back on my elbows, wiping sweat from my brow. “Have you ever had that dream where something’s crawling under your skin and you’re too scared to tear it out because you’re not sure if it’s the only thing holding you together?” I ask the imaginary Riven, hoping my mind could conjure up answers for him.

The imagination, of course, doesn’t answer and neither does the Riven who isn’t here. But, in my mind, I watch him as he shifts his weight. His lips part like he wants to speak, but then he shuts them again and only swallows loudly.

“Say it,” I whisper, praying for any sign that this can be fixed somehow, if only in my imagination. “Whatever it is you’re not saying - say it.”

Riven’s image in my mind meets my gaze, his eyes sharper than I’ve ever seen them. “It’s that witch, it started after the ritual, didn’t it?”

I nod and agree, although I know the imaginary person is saying what my mind wants him to say, “it did.” I add out loud for some reason.

Riven’s image in my mind stands and starts pacing, dragging a hand through his hair. “Marrel’s pushing us to move again, he said we’re too exposed here.”

I nod absently, already knowing that Marrel’s words are true since I overheard them before while he had one of those whispered discussions with the witch. “He doesn’t like stillness, it makes people start thinking.”

Riven’s image pauses and looks back at me, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “you’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

I force a laugh but it sounds hollow and forced. “Is that a problem now?”

“Only if it gets you killed.” Riven’s image mutters inside my mind and flashes me a smile that sends cold shivers down my spine, making it look like he wants me killed, not protected.

I meet his stare and hold it. “You mean only if it gets your plans ruined.”

His jaw clenches, but I let the silence stretch and allow him to sit in it, figure out what to do with the weight of my suspicion.

For some reason, my mind builds up the whole setting back in the camp - with tents and everything and just right then, there’s a movement next to one of the tents, followed by Marrel’s voice nearby but it doesn’t sound like his voice at all.

Riven moves before I do, but I grab his wrist. “Wait.”

“He’s calling for you,” imaginary Riven says.

I shake my head as fast as I can, unwilling to let go. “I don’t care.”

He looks startled by my words, but nods slowly and doesn’t make a move to walk away. “You think he knows something?”

“I think they all know something and I think they’re just waiting for me to stop asking questions.” I tell the imaginary person, whom I trust more than anyone these days.

Riven crouches next to me, too close for comfort. “Then keep asking them, just not too loudly.”

I stay quiet as I watch how the images in my mind start bleeding together and morphing into new things while some pile on top of each other like crazed ants.

Eventually, I drift off again, clutching the blanket around me like it’s a lifeline, but even in my dreams, I’m not free of everyone I left behind.

I watch from aside and my own eyes at the same time, which feels like absolute madness. I’m truly losing my mind, for good this time. Marrel walks ahead, the forest which is close beside him. They whisper to each other again like I’m not even worth including in the plan that supposedly revolves around me.

I force my body to get closer and both of them instantly go silent.

“How are you feeling?” Marrel asks, turning his head to look at me but something about his face is completely wrong - he looks like himself and doesn’t at the same time. And his voice is wrong too, far too sweet for my liking.

“Like I swallowed a storm.” I say, more to test the waters.

The forest witch smiles. “You carry it well.”

“What do you mean by that?” I ask, my tone is sharp but I don’t care if it’s obvious anymore.

She doesn’t answer but Marrel does. “It means you’re strong enough. You survived and that’s what matters.”

I nod slowly. “Is that what I’m supposed to believe?”

His smile falters. “Would you rather believe something else?”

“I’d rather be told the truth.” I hiss.

“And what do you think the truth is, Arvin?” The forest witch asks.

“That I’m being used again.” I state flatly.

“You’re not wrong.” The witch says and shrugs.

Marrel’s eyes widen and a gasp escapes his lips.

“She’s right,” I say before he can try to add something. “You don’t bring a cursed boy into the woods and pair him with a witch just to offer him freedom. That’s not what this is.”

Marrel sighs. “No, it’s not, but it’s not betrayal either.”

“Really?” I ask sharply.

“Arvin, you’re more than what they let you be. What Lester let you be. He locked you in a tower, but we want to see what you become outside of it.” Marrel tries gently.

“You mean, what I become if I hate him?”