The Dream Crafter(72)

As Merc closed his eyes, Amana twisted her head to look into a faraway corner. Her double stood there, death-blue eyes unblinking, watching them with malevolent intent.

“This way.” Merc pulled, breaking her attention away from the double. They went down too many corridors that looked exactly the same, but Merc moved without hesitation, and then they stood in front of a huge double door, the magic so strong even in the dreamscape Amana choked on it.

“The new vault. That was fast.” Amana’s head cocked in confusion at Merc’s words, and Merc must have seen the question in her eyes, because he continued. “Couple months ago, the Guild was attacked and their vault was ransacked. This was a big deal because that vault held some of the deadliest, most powerful magic items and spells in any of the Realms. That’s where the Spellbook came from. I’m a little surprised they got a replacement so fast. The number of magical reinforcements must be incredible.”

If Merc felt only a quarter of what she felt, then he’d know his statement was instead an understatement, though it was doubtful his powers had any effect here. This was her space, her realm, and here only she could accomplish this task.

This daunting task, where magic beat against her in ways she’d never come across, not even in those few trips she’d dared try for her brother.

Merc froze. The entire landscape froze. The breath she did not need to exhale froze mid-air, and Amana’s next blink was eons in the making.

“You want inside, don’t you?” Her double leaned against the door, all nonchalance and easy demeanor. “To go through? To save him, and ultimately Nakoa? The true question, will you get in there without me?”

The doppelganger leaned her head back against the heavy door of the vault, the arch of her neck inviting Amana to wrap her hands around the delicate length. And yet… “Help me.”

Shock was shown in the wide teal eyes, the speed in which her head rose from the door. She glanced around, looking for the ambush, looking for the trap, before coming back to Amana. “What did you say?”

Amana strode forward, her steps strong and sure. Here, now, was the true test of her, of what she would sacrifice for those she loved, and it wasn’t a choice, it wasn’t a pass or a fail. She would pay the price needed. She would save Merc. She would free Nakoa.

No longer a scared girl. No longer a cowering mess. The time of words was past, ineffective actions that masked her failure, how she was holding onto that last part of herself. Begging attention for what she did, while deflecting from what she was refusing to do.

No longer.

Now she was in front of the other, their eyes locked. “Help me get the Spellbook. Help me break through.”

The other’s eyes gleamed, and a small smile stole over thin lips, a cruel tinge Amana had never noticed in the mirror. “As if this can stop a Dream Crafter.”

To the eye, nothing changed. The doors stayed locked. The walls remained in place. Magic, though, magic exploded, powerful forces slicking through the air around them, and they remained unmoving, uncaring, above such petty concerns like magic that could crush the foundations of the world touching either of them.

“Call for it,” the other said, and of course the Spellbook was waiting for her. She reached out her hand and it was there, warm, fragrant leather and crying for Merc, wanting to be rejoined with him.

“What happened?” Merc’s voice came from beneath her, as her head lay on his chest, th-thump, th-thump of his heart beneath her ear.

Amana woke up, the Spellbook wrapped in her arms, her eyes a teal blue, the color of the ocean as darkness sets in, all of death on display in their depths.





Chapter Thirty-Nine




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“I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Amana pulled her head away, shook it as he reached to touch the side of her face yet again. “You’re over worrying.”

He could almost believe her, almost put the sharp, pinched look on her face to the happenings of the night, but his mind would not be comfortable with the reasoning. He didn’t doubt his senses, and he wouldn’t start now even with the ready excuse of the high emotions of the last two days. For a moment her eyes had been a terrifying blue and there had been a stranger looking out from them.

As much to change the topic as to show pleasure at her success, she placed the Spellbook in his arms, pushing it towards his chest and forcing him to clutch it to him like a ragdoll. Here she smiled, and this smile was genuine, was full of triumph and joy. “We got it. Part one is done. Hadrien doesn’t have a chance now.”

The Spellbook pulsed in his arms, and if he dared let himself believe it, he would swear it emitted contentment, happy to be back with him. The feeling couldn’t be real, but a smile spread on his face in answer. “We got it.”