Page 18 of Shadowvein

“You know … somewhere I can wash and … do other things.”

“Ahh, a latrine.” I gesture to a shadowed alcove on the far side of the chamber. “Through there.”

She walks over to it, and disappears inside. While she’s occupied, I make use of her absence to think. My spell drew her here, that much is clear, but I still don’t understandwhyit reached so far, or how it washer who responded. What quality does she possess that allowed my magic to find her across the void between worlds?

Whatever the answer is, I need to discover it. If she can respond to my magic, perhaps she can assist with other things. Specifically, understanding what might weaken the binding that holds me here.

She emerges from the alcove looking more comfortable, though still wary.

“There are forces in this world that function differently than those in yours.” I choose my words carefully, gauging her reaction. “What you might call magic, though that term doesn’t quite capture their true nature.”

Her expression shifts to disbelief, jaw tensing as she processes my words. “Magic?” The word leaves her lips as though it’s a foreign concept.

“A crude approximation.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Your world may have forgotten such forces, or perhaps they never existed there at all. Here, they are …were,” I correct myself. “They were as natural as air, once.”

“And you’re telling me that this tower …” She glances at the curved walls that seem to pulse with its own heartbeat “… it’s magical?”

“In a manner of speaking.” I lean forward slightly, watching how her pupils dilate, how her breathing quickens. Every reaction tells me something about her. “It exists between states, neither fully in this world, nor fully outside of it. A threshold between realities, if you will.”

She shakes her head, fingers lifting to press against her temples. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yet here you stand, transported from your world to mine without crossing the space between.” I spread my hands. “Does that make sense by your world’s rules?”

She has no response to that, her expression slowly changing from disbelief to the first flicker of acceptance.

Good.

The more I destabilize her understanding of how reality works here, the more she’ll be forced to accept my explanations, my guidance. Break the foundation, then rebuild it according to your design. It’s one of the first principles of control I mastered long before my imprisonment.

“Have you ever experienced anything unusual before?” I keep my tone casual. “Dreams that felt too real? Moments of knowing things you shouldn’t know?”

“No.” Her answer comes too quickly, her gaze dropping from mine. A lie, or at least not the complete truth.

“Are you sure?” I press gently. “No strange coincidences? No inexplicable feelings about things? Nothing that couldn’t be explained?”

She hesitates, fingers twisting in her lap. I wait, patient as a hunter in the shadows. Andthereit is, a slight shift in her posture that tells me I’ve found something.

“I … have dreams sometimes. Vivid ones.” She swallows, clearly uncomfortable with the admission. “Buteveryonedoes. It’s not unusual.”

She’s not wrong. Everyone dreams. But not everyone wakes remembering names they never learned, or hears languages they were never taught. Not everyone arrives in a tower that should be unreachable.

“What kind of dreams?” The question sounds innocent enough, but my pulse quickens. This could be exactly what I need.

She shrugs, aiming for nonchalance, despite the fact she’s sitting ramrod stiff. “Just dreams. Usually about people I’ve never met. Their faces are so clear, but I don’t know them.” Her voice drops. “They talk to me. There’s a woman who cries, but I don’t know what she’s saying. The language isn’t … it doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard.”

That catches my interest immediately. Dreams of strangers, of faces she’s never seen, yet they feel real enough to remember. The language could be High Meridian, maybe. Had my spell been attempting to reach her for a while before it finally pulled her through? Was it showing her glimpses of this world, and the people in it?

“How long have you been having these dreams?” I ensure my tone remains steady, casual.

“I don’t know. Years, maybe?” She frowns, suspicion returning. “Why does it matter?”

“I didn’t say it does.” I sit back down, adopting relaxed indifference despite the excitement surging through me. The dreams matter. They may be the key to understanding why she responded to my spell, why she alone was drawn across worlds. But pursuing it too aggressively will only make her defensive. Being locked away hastaught me the value of patience, of knowing when to press and when to retreat.

The light in the chamber changes subtly, violet deepening to indigo before brightening again. On the table, the remnants of her earlier meal dissolve like morning mist, replaced by fresh food materializing from nothing. Crusty bread still steaming as though just pulled from an oven, dried meat arranged in a spiral, and what I’m sure will be a thick stew in a carved wooden bowl. A bottle of wine appears beside the refilled pitcher of water.

She jumps back, a strangled sound escaping her throat. Her back hits the wall with a dull thud.

“What … how did that happen? Did that food just …appear?”

---