After they’d eaten dinner, her uncle stayed for a while, and the two of them played games while Mela cleared away the table. By the time he left her, she could almost pretend that all the strange things they’d asked and said, plus the changes they wanted made were but a dream. That is, until she entered her room and found a cot set against the far wall. They really meant for her to have no time unaccompanied. Her new reality was growing sourer by the hour.
Once Mela helped her undress and tucked her in, La’tiera lay stiffly, too aware of the woman’s movements as she prepared for sleep. The quiet was full of presence, making her room not seem like her own.
Soft snores began, but she still couldn’t relax and go to sleep. The medallion weighed on her chest worse than she remembered. Carefully, she moved it out of the way and tentatively reached to caress the Eye.
Though she couldn’t be totally sure, it felt less exposed than before. She didn’t know whether she should feel relieved at this or not. Was it wrong for the Eye to grow? To look less like a birthmark and more like a real eye? Her uncle never told her that could happen, and he’d also not told her of it giving powers. But if the nightmares came from the Eye, couldn’t it give her a gift as well?
Uncertain, but knowing she wouldn’t sleep at all if she continued wearing it, La’tiera took the necklace off and tucked it beneath her pillow. With any luck, she would be able to grab it and put it on in the morning without Mela being any the wiser.
* * * *
She traveled on eight legs through tall stalks of corn, swatting them aside. At the end of the field, she spied a village, and as she and the others came closer she realized it was one she knew. It was the village where the troupe had stopped before.
Tearing into the first home she encountered, she chomped down on startled children, many the same ones who had played with her and showed her their town. Blood, horror, joy flushed through her. Shierla screamed and screamed as she took her time, snapping off one piece and then another just to watch her squirm.
All about her was chaos and destruction, and though a deep part of her struggled to get free, the rest of her reveled in it.
Things grew undefined for a moment, and then she was something and somewhere else. The thick doors before her shredded like paper. Within was a large room packed with people; and at the far end, on a tall pedestal, was an open case in which nestled a large glowing stone.
She was filled with glee as she realized her prey had nowhere to run, that she was blocking the only exit. Men surged forward to oppose her, amusing her. She knew some of them—Rostocha, Kyr and Mishal. Rostocha looked worn, his face and arms full of cuts and bruises. Kyr wore a bandage over one eye and Mishal—Mishal was missing an arm.
All three died as her cloud of poison and acid touched any who came near. Screams, frantic pleas, chaos and death wove all around her. Tersa went down with a knife in her hand, ever-defiant, her dead husband’s name on her lips. Bentel tried to shield some of the children, but to no avail. La’tiera easily sent the woman’s body sailing across the room to splatter against a far wall.
With only a few of the prey left, the scent of the blood and fear at fever pitch, she spotted Aya. The child was at the pedestal, trying her best to pick up the glowing stone, as if she thought she had a chance of escaping this place with it. Her dying scream filled La’tiera’s demon ears as she rent her in two.
* * * *
She woke up gasping, her eyes wide with terror. A scream struggled to escape, but she clasped her hands over her mouth to hold it in.
Sounds from across the room made her lie back down, turning onto her side, and she hid beneath the covers, trying to be still. She couldn’t make her body stop shaking.
“Milady? Is everything all right?”
Please don’t come over, she begged silently. It was all she could do not to sob. If Mela found her like this, she would know she had taken off the necklace. And the dreams had been so much worse this time. The taste of blood and burned meat was too fresh in her mind, the smell of fear, the glee at causing such chaos, the death of…
There was no way she could even attempt to pretend nothing was wrong.
She heard Mela rise from her bed and check the window and doors. The pounding of her heart gradually slowed as the woman said nothing else and returned to her bed. La’tiera’s mind was not eased, however. It was still a total jumble of fear and confusion.
Though in most ways this nightmare had followed the same pattern as the others, something new had been added, something that had never happened before. The victims were people she knew, some of the places where they were killed places she’d been to.
She curled into a ball, trying to make sense of it. Why did people she’d so recently come to know end up in her nightmares? In her months of dreaming she’d never once dreamt of people she knew. Why had this changed? And why these people and not Mela or her uncle?
As she calmed she had another, more troubling thought. She’d seen the people from the village and those belonging to the troupe—except for Lalu and Dal. Why hadn’t they been part of the vision? Why weren’t they with the others?
She couldn’t come up with an explanation, and it brought up a feeling of dread inside her she couldn’t explain or dismiss. Dal was safe—her uncle had released him. Surely, he would have tried to go back to the others. And Lalu—she’d been with the rest when she’d last seen them.
Then she recalled the picture of Tersa and Aya she had drawn at the inn. How they were running, looking frantic and afraid. Something definitely happened after she and Dal left the village, but what?
La’tiera shook her head beneath the covers, telling herself she didn’t need to know. Her time was near, that was all that should concern her. She told herself this over and over until her exhausted mind finally dragged her back toward sleep.