Page 60 of Wake the Dream

Chapter 15

Illaria

In her dream, Yelenasat next to her, the two sisters sharing a seat on the limb of an old oak. The gnarled bark of the towering tree rubbed their legs and they kicked the open air, tiny developing wings beating against their backs.

I bet I can fly across the forest in one go without getting tired.

She heard Yelena’s sweet voice inside her head. Her gaze shifted to her sister. Yelena was formidable in her perfection, utterly joyous. Eternally radiating inner happiness.

Green stretched on for miles below them, sunlight shining down on the emerald canopy. Each leaf glittered like a gemstone. The air tasted delicious. Tasted of crisp apples or cool fruit on a warm summer day.

Illaria took it into her lungs until they filled. Home. She remembered the smell, imprinted in her memory for eternity. Colors shone brighter, food tasted richer, even the sun felt warmer. Each piece of this world was magic.

Before the royalty decided to close the door for good.

She missed those times. Simpler by half, more magical than anything on Earth. Times when she and Yelena were free to be themselves without anyone or anything else putting constraints on them.

They’d sat in the big tree often, each limb larger than a car, stretching out into the infinite spans of atmosphere. She remembered the magic coursing through her, her lifeblood strong and sure. There’d been no anger and no missing pieces. No need to fill herself with meaningless affection to take away the frustration and pain.

Come on!

Yelena took off suddenly, and in the dream Illaria struggled to follow. Her own wings were weak and useless in comparison, her magic slow to come, sputtering. On the verge of dying.

She followed the sounds of laughter and caught sight of her sister’s ebony hair before losing her again. Illaria pumped her wings harder, urged them faster. She was older by thirty years. It was her job to lead the way and to protect her family. Not the other way around.

Yelena flew out of the forest and straight toward the ravine separating the realms. Leaves shook in an unnatural breeze and tumbled over the ledge into the darkness of the chasm. Unrelenting empty blackness reached up to claim them the closer they came.

Illaria stopped, a sharp pain between her shoulders. She called out for Yelena but the wind tore her voice away. The darkness below her had no beginning or end. It seemed to have a life of its own, pulsating. Filled with whispers of sound and memories. Faces lost to history.

With Yelena gone, Illaria stared at the ravine and something in the shadowy haze stared back at her.

Another sharp tug between her shoulders and Illaria turned around to see the mangled, shriveled husks of her wings She didn’t have time to scream. With her wings gone, she plummeted into the abyss. Terror caused a thin layer of sweat to break out over her skin.

She didn’t remember hitting the ground. Didn’t remember anything once the dream shifted. Now she stood in a fog.

A robed figure in white stepped through the mist, an extended hand beckoning her forward. Illaria smiled, forgetting her wings and taking a step forward. A tug pulled at her from the solar plexus region.

But a hand on her shoulder stopped her. For a split second, Illaria thought she’d see Kieran when she turned around.

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