The Annals of Orme: Book One

Chapter 6

Zaidna

The Empire of Judath

The Temple of Marin

Batem and Vasim shuffled slowly down the short hall leading from the chapel lobby, and Kirin followed several paces behind. She had never been to the Chamber of Dreaming, and had never expected to unless she actually became the Nassé.

“Don’t be nervous,” Batem reassured as he turned his head to smile at Kirin. The wrinkles on his face deepened ominously in the shadows made by the oil lamps lining the walls. “It’s unusual that the Nassé would see someone outside of the clergy, but perhaps because of your house she wishes to extend an invitation for you to join the seminary and become a priestess early. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Kirin didn’t respond. She was barely getting used to the idea of degrees of focus beyond the first. The thought of joining the seminary and becoming a priestess so soon made her feel sick to her stomach.

“Just think about how fortunate you are to have this opportunity,” Batem said as they stepped into the light, revealing the vast temple foyer before them and the strata of tiered floors stretching above them. The broad windows below the second floor filled every nook with shafts of sunlight. “Even I have never met the Nassé. This could very well be the defining moment of your young life.”

Vasim made a swift cutting gesture with his hand. “We don’t need everyone to hear about this,” he hissed disapprovingly.

A touch of color spread across the surface of Batem’s jowls before he shook his head and grumbled. The priests led Kirin past the central staircase to the restricted hallway, which Kirin had always been told led to a private staircase up to the very top of the temple, where the Chamber of Dreaming was located. A couple of stout, young guards in priest robes stopped them momentarily, but quickly waved them on.

They moved along the long hall, and Kirin couldn’t help but notice the smooth walls and ceiling catching the sunlight reflected from the mosaic-tiled floor. It was so beautiful for something so few people would ever see. At the end of the hallway stood a winding, alabaster staircase.

Kirin followed the priests onto the stairs and looked up. The stairs seemed to spiral upward forever. She looked at Batem worriedly. Were they really going to climb the whole way up?

“These stairs are very long,” Batem commented, finally breaking the silence now that there was no one else around them. “They’re difficult on my knees, but perhaps they won’t be so hard on yours, Kirin. I’ve suggested to the high priests for years that one of those engstaxi lifts should be installed, but they’ll hear nothing of it.”

“Enough, Batem,” Vasim chided as they began their long climb. “We do not trust engstaxi inventions or anything powered by binding ormé. Naltena would not have us practice it.”

Kirin had never realized that priests might disapprove of binding ormé, especially since Batem had been teaching it in his classes for the last few weeks. She had actually become quite proficient at using it to make stones glow semi-permanently. Her first successful experiment was now serving as an extremely useful reading light.

“Nonsense!” Batem argued, waving his free hand. “I’ll never understand the fear of binding ormé. You carve a glyph into a stone and it does something useful. Even the kadas of the three emperors have glyphs carved on them. I’m tired of the priests constantly whispering about the evils of binding ormé. Not one Nassé, nor the goddess herself, has ever forbidden it. The priests only dislike it because of what the Dread God did with it. Carving glyphs into people, now there is a heinous practice!”

“We don’t speak of that!” Vasim scolded, and Batem silenced himself at once.

Kirin swallowed, wondering if she had just heard something that was very secret. When Vasim glanced over his shoulder to check on her progress, she made certain to look over the edge of the curving banister and pretend as though she were counting the stairs rather than listening to their conversation. Had the Dread God really used binding ormé on people? What would be the benefit? She started to imagine the Dread God Anoth carving glyphs into the flesh of his enemies and followers alike. Maybe it was his favorite form of torture. Or maybe he did it to set his favorites apart. All the possibilities were horrible and endless and fascinatingly forbidden. Kirin felt a twinge of guilt that she would be thinking of such things in Naltena’s temple, but she couldn’t help herself.

The sound of fatigued wheezing from the priests called Kirin back to reality. While Kirin was daydreaming of atrocities at the hands of the Dread God, they had climbed hundreds—perhaps even thousands—of steps. She realized that she was feeling a bit tired, too. Her thighs ached, and a tendon in her left ankle felt like it was being pinched by an unseen force every time she took a step. She could only imagine how Batem was feeling.

As they reached the final landing, Batem and Vasim immediately stumbled forward and rested against a curved stone wall in front of them. Kirin blinked, adjusting to the bright sunlight that appeared around her, and was a little surprised to hear birds singing nearby. She always knew that the Nassé lived and worked in the Chamber of Dreaming but had only ever glimpsed the domed skylight of the chamber from the ground. The thought of the Nassé just beyond this wall was exciting.

But that could wait a few minutes. Kirin moved to stand beside the priests, leaning against the wall in order to ease the stitch in her side. From here she could see just how high up they were over the wide balustrades spanning between stone pillars, which acted as the only barriers to keep Kirin from falling off the walkway to her death. Any smart person would hug the convex walls around to the entrance of the chamber to avoid being whisked away by a stray gust of wind.

Kirin cautiously pushed off from the wall and ventured over to the stone barrier and grabbed it tight, feeling a small thrill of fear as she looked down at the city below. She had looked out the windows of Batem’s third floor study plenty of times, but that was nothing compared to this!

Maybe this was what it was like to see things as the goddess saw them from the Mother Star. Kirin could see each of Marin’s main avenues as they led away from the holy district. And all the buildings and their domed rooftops were like multicolored glass beads in the sunlight. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if she were to become the Nassé one day, so long as she could wake up to this every morning.

Kirin heard some movement to her right and glanced over her shoulder to see two elderly women approaching along the circular walkway. They were dressed in long, black robes, with striped sashes wound around their waists, tied off in pretty, ornamental knots that had too many loops for Kirin to count. These were priestesses, she realized.

Even though she had been an acolyte for several years now, she had never actually seen a priestess before. It was considered a sacred position, and only women selected as candidates for Nassé were permitted to join the men in seminary, and of course very few of them would ever actually become the Nassé, as there could only be one at a time. The remaining priestesses served as the Nassé’s private attendants for the rest of their lives. Kirin had been told her entire life that she would make a fine priestess, but she hadn’t really considered what that might be like. Was Batem actually correct that the Nassé intended to invite her to seminary early? If so, was she ready? She began to twist her skirt in her hands.

Batem straightened himself up and hobbled over to the balustrade where she stood. “The only men permitted to meet with the Nassé are high priests, so you will have to go with these priestesses without me. Besides, Vasim and I must start heading down now if we have any hope of having dinner before dark.”

“But Batem!” Kirin protested. How could he possibly abandon her to these strangers? How would she find her way back?

“You’ll be fine,” Batem reassured, patting her arm. “Just be very polite and do exactly as you are told.” He then moved to stand beside Vasim, who was now lingering near the stairs.

The priestesses finally reached Kirin, and each extended a hand to her. Kirin took their hands and stood between them, gazing helplessly as Batem and Vasim bowed and took their leave.

The priestesses swiveled around and started to lead Kirin around the curving gallery. As they walked, Kirin quickly became aware of an annoying swishing sound that accompanied each step she took. Where was that coming from? She looked down and realized that it was the stiff fabric of her skirt rubbing against her thighs. Had she suddenly gained weight? What was making her skirt so tight? She glanced over at one of the priestesses. Why weren’t her skirts making any noise? Peering down as inconspicuously as she could, she noted that the black fabric of the priestesses’ skirts was rather fine and gauzy, like smoke over water. The priestesses made hardly a whisper as they moved.

Kirin dared to speak when she noticed one of the women looking quizzically at her. “So how does the Nassé decide which priestesses live in which temple? Were you all friends in seminary?” She hoped that a little polite conversation would distract them from the irreverent sounds her skirt was making.

The shorter of the two priestesses frowned, while the taller one let loose a chuckle that made Kirin shiver. “The high priests select the Nassé’s attending priestesses. The Nassé has no say in the matter.”

“Oh.” Were people not supposed to talk when near the Chamber of Dreaming? Were they worried that they might wake the Nassé up? How could these women spend so much time up here? Didn’t they get lonely?

The priestesses finally led Kirin around the walkway to the opposite side of the tower, where they found a stone door. Her heart skipped a beat. Was this the door to the Chamber of Dreaming? One of the priestesses pulled open the door to reveal a long, white corridor lined with mirrors.

As they moved down the hall, Kirin was drawn to the mirrors lining both sides, fascinated by her infinitely repeating reflections in them. Even with the priestesses there, she was sorely tempted to wave her arms around at the mirrors experimentally. She continued to stare sidelong at herself until she felt the priestesses suddenly pull back on her arms, stopping her from running into the pair of silver-plated doors now standing in front of her. They were very fancy, inlaid with disks of mother-of-pearl and moonstone.

“This is the Chamber of Dreaming,” the short priestess said curtly. “You are to keep silent unless the Nassé specifically requests for you to speak.”

Kirin nodded, and the second priestess pushed the doors open. Inside was a spacious room, circular in shape and extremely well lit. The whole ceiling was comprised of a massive domed skylight with celestial symbols embellishing its frame. As Kirin walked further into the room, she noticed three golden spires positioned at equal distances just outside the skylight’s perimeter. She had seen the spires hundreds of times from the ground, but never this close. This really was the Chamber of Dreaming!

Kirin wondered how the Nassé could sleep in a room so bright, but understood a bit better as they approached the bed standing in the direct center of the chamber. The bed was circular, like everything else in the room, and was canopied with long black curtains that were clearly meant to block out all light.

To the right of the bed, another priestess was sitting on the floor behind a small writing desk, which was covered in parchment paper and ink bottles. This must have been the Nassé’s chronicler, the priestess who recorded the prophetess’s dreams as she recounted them. Kirin was in awe.

“Your Holiness,” intoned the taller of the priestesses who had led Kirin in, “we have brought you Kirin Toredath, daughter of the ninth house of ormé, as you requested.”

“Ah, yes, you have my thanks.” The voice that came from behind the curtain was soft but authoritative. “Please leave us, all of you. I wish to speak with Kirin alone.”

All the attending priestesses looked at each other uncomfortably, including the chronicler.

“But Your Holiness, we cannot leave you alone!” the tall priestess exclaimed.

“Do as I say!” the Nassé commanded more sternly, and the priestesses unhappily obeyed, closing the doors after them. Kirin now stood alone, staring into the darkness beyond the bed’s slightly parted curtains. She couldn’t help but hold her breath.

“Are you scared? You needn’t be,” the Nassé reassured. Her voice was low and dulcet. “You may not think I know you, but I do. I was once a girl like you, one who just so happened to have a gift for dreaming. Come closer. You may look at me. Part the curtains, but only a little. My eyes are sensitive to the light.”

Kirin exhaled and forced herself to move toward the bed. She reached up and parted the curtains a little more, revealing the Nassé half-reclining in the center of the circular mattress, which was covered in black satin sheets and pillows. There was a silver tray resting beside her, upon which sat a platter of fruit and a pot of steaming tea.

The Nassé, however, was not at all what Kirin expected. “You’re an engstaxi!” Kirin blurted out. She had only ever seen a few engstaxis, and only from a distance. Engstaxis almost always kept their whole bodies concealed from the sunlight, which could be deadly to them, but the Nassé was wearing nothing more than a loose black and white robe, which had no sash to keep it closed. Her body seemed so small and frail, almost like a child’s.

The Nassé smiled. “You are surprised that the Nassé could be an engstaxi? I suppose I cannot blame you. We do tend to speak more of the Nassé’s station than her race. Focusing on political distinctions rather than spiritual ones tends to stir up unnecessary conflict among the empires.”

“I’ve never seen an engstaxi uncovered before,” Kirin replied, too interested to be ashamed. The Nassé’s eyes were a stunning red color, with large pupils that were a stark contrast to her delicate, pale face. In combination with her colorless hair, she looked like a living porcelain doll.

“That is also unsurprising,” the Nassé chuckled, her faint smile revealing sharp-looking teeth. “My people seldom travel outside of Xeshun. Even if the sun did not blind us or burn our skin, we’re not particularly . . . social. But be at ease. I grant you permission to call me by my given name, Xinthi.”

“I’ve always heard that engstaxis aren’t very friendly,” Kirin murmured. She couldn’t stop staring at the Nassé’s body. Xinthi’s hands looked so young, lacking the mottled skin or bulging veins that came in middle age for all the races. But her face, despite being so pretty, carried some distinct wrinkles. Maybe those wrinkles came from pressing her face against her pillows for so long.

“It’s true. We’re not at all friendly.” Xinthi arched her white eyebrows and laughed softly. As she did, Kirin noticed her forehead tattoo, which consisted of a row of three blue circles, with the one in the center made to resemble a stylized eye. She wasn’t a noble, either! Whenever the current Nassé died, the new Nassé received this crest in addition to any existing crest she already bore. If the new Nassé were a lesser noble, the Nassé’s crest would be added above her familial crest. Any woman marrying into a noble family would receive her husband’s crest in addition to her own, as well as the crest of any subsequent husbands, but since no priestess could be previously married, this situation never happened to a Nassé.

The Nassé patted a spot on the mattress in front of her, startling Kirin back to the present. “You are an odd girl, but I think I shall be friendly with you. Sit beside me and close the curtains; the light is very bright.” She held out her hand to Kirin.

Kirin received Xinthi’s hand and knelt on the bed, drawing the curtains shut behind her, enveloping them both in semi-darkness. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she found herself sinking deep into the mattress. Pressing her palms against the smooth, satiny sheets, she decided that it was the softest bed she’d ever felt.

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Kirin,” Xinthi said, settling back against her pillows. “I am impressed by the reports I’ve received on your abilities in ormé, and that they manifested themselves at such a young age. Of course, one born of your house is bound to be talented, but the priestesses have indicated that your teacher, Batem, finds you exceptional. Would you like some fruit?” Xinthi took up the platter of sliced fruit from the silver tray beside her and offered it to Kirin.

Even in the dim light, Kirin could make out the color of the fruit. It was a variety that had bright pink skin, green seeds, and yellow flesh. She couldn’t refuse the Nassé’s offer; this fruit was uncommon to Judath and happened to be one of her favorites. She carefully picked up a slice of fruit and took a bite. The flesh practically burst inside of her mouth, flooding it with tangy juice and crunchy seeds. She thought, as she chewed and swallowed, that it was strange to be eating in bed—especially in the Nassé’s bed. Perhaps this was an engstaxi custom.

“I was born under the eighth house of ormé,” Xinthi continued. “That is rare enough, but you? You are one of a kind for the time being, and so it is quite fitting that you are being trained to succeed me one day. I hear you are capable of dreaming almost every night. It took me years of meditation to be able to accept visions from the goddess on a regular basis, and even then, they don’t come nightly. You are gifted by the goddess to be able to dream in such a way so often.”

Kirin swallowed the last bit of her fruit and began to feel anxious about her sticky fingers. Licking them would have been uncouth. Wiping them clean on the sheets would have been even more uncouth. Seeing no other option, she simply balled up her fist. “It’s not as impressive as my teacher makes it sound,” Kirin admitted. “Most of my dreams seem to be entirely meaningless. Even when my dreams are visionary, the meaning is hardly ever profound.” Except maybe that dream.

“Don’t diminish your gift, Kirin,” Xinthi admonished in a tender fashion, although her delivery was stilted enough that Kirin knew it wasn’t in her nature to chasten someone lovingly. “Any sort of revelation is important, and anyone predisposed to such revelation can hone her skills. That it comes easily to you simply means that you will be a tool for tremendous good in serving the goddess.”

Kirin watched as Xinthi poured herself a cup of strong smelling tea. The Nassé then brought the cup close to her thin lips.

“Did you know, Kirin, that it is not possible for a Nassé to have nightmares?” Xinthi asked. She took a sip of her tea. “When Nassés sleep, we see only a great nothingness unless the goddess sends us a vision. Sometimes this takes hours and sometimes this takes days or weeks. When we dream of Naltena, we walk alongside her and speak to her both as her friend and her servant. She tells us many things—secret things—but much of what we are told is forgotten upon awakening. We remember only what she wishes us to. The goddess teaches us in riddles, forcing us to interpret our own dreams before we are able to share them with the world.”

Kirin listened in silence, thrilled by what seemed to be extremely privileged secrets. It was strange to think that if she were to become the Nassé someday, she too would sleep in this bed and walk with the goddess in her dreams.

Xinthi bowed her head, her white hair falling over her face and allowing Kirin to catch a glimpse of her small, tri-pointed ears. How exotic! “As you know, the sleep of a Nassé and her priestesses is meant to be protected by the goddess. We only dream meaningful dreams, which are never corrupted by triviality or nightmares. I am the seventeenth Nassé, and none before me have dreamt any differently.” A hardened line appeared across Xinthi’s jaw. “I regret to say that I am the first Nassé to be abandoned by the goddess.”

“What?” Kirin couldn’t help but stare, dumbfounded.

“I confess that I should have seen the signs far sooner. My visions have always been accurate, but my interpretations have at times been flawed. And my duty is to use my gifts to promote harmony among Naltena’s people, but I suppose it is no secret that my history with your Emperor Ravad has been—tumultuous.”

Kirin nodded. She had overheard her father discussing the rift between the clergy and the government several times. Things had become much tenser with the unexpected passing of the sun emperor’s wife last fall, with rumors about the Nassé being either powerless or unwilling to give him any warning counsel.

“I have privately wondered to myself whether I am to blame. Perhaps my judgment was clouded by my emotions. I do not feel worthy of punishment, yet Naltena has withdrawn her protection of me, with no sign of how it might return. Instead, all of my meaningful dreams have departed from me. I am left with nothing but nightmares.”

Nightmares! Kirin swallowed hard. “Are you sure they’re nightmares? I know that unpleasant dreams often look like—”

“I am very clear on the difference between an unpleasant dream and a nightmare,” Xinthi interrupted curtly. “I have elucidated dozens of nightmares at the highest level since before you were born. I do not use the word lightly.”

Kirin nodded.

“This brings me to why I have summoned you here. I have two questions for you, and I must ask you to be completely honest with me, regardless of how you think I might react.”

Kirin gulped. What if she didn’t know the answer to Xinthi’s questions?

“First, I must ask if you too are having nightmares.”

“Of course not!” Kirin answered immediately.

“I know what the doctrine says of our immunity to nightmares, but it is very important for me to know where you stand.”

“No—no. My dreams are intense sometimes, but nothing like that.” Kirin thought of her recurring dream. She disliked the way it made her feel, but seeing the Goddess Forest night after night couldn’t be bad.

Xinthi leaned back and sighed. “So, it has to do with me alone, then.”

Kirin shifted uncomfortably on her knees. This was all very troubling. Many dreams were meaningless, but recurring dreams almost always meant there was something to be learned, and once that instruction had been received, they would resolve themselves, even if it took days. Nightmares were given to chastise and correct, and were usually related to personal failings. But those were for regular people. The Nassé and her priestesses were set aside to receive special dreams, most of which were given on behalf of others, and in exchange all priestesses, and even candidates, were exempt from nightmares entirely. This way, their psyches could remain pure, allowing them to focus on elucidating the recurring dreams of others by identifying and interpreting the symbols without prejudice or bias. Then the dreamers could more easily resolve their issues and be free of their recurring dreams. “Couldn’t you have one of your priestesses elucidate your nightmare for you?”

Xinthi smiled sadly. “I have called upon my chronicler to elucidate and confirm my dreams from time to time. But never a nightmare. A nightmare would cast doubt on the validity of all my previous visions. Instead, I’ve allowed my chronicler to believe that I have had no meaningful dreams for her to record since last fall, since the incident with the empress of Judath. This cannot last forever. But it does bring me to my next question. You clearly know about elucidations. Have you learned how to perform them?”

“No, of course not,” Kirin stammered, shaking her head. “I’ve only just barely learned how to shift into the third degree of focus, and I’m not good at it yet.”

“Nonsense,” Xinthi dismissed. “The third degree is necessary, of course. However, for elucidations, it is far more important to have wisdom and sensitivity to the goddess’s will. To elucidate is to ‘make known,’ which is why the skill is so sought after among the nobles, and in fact is often essential to the wellbeing of our empires.” Xinthi leaned over and took another sip of her tea. “Would you like to try it?”

“No, thank you. I don’t drink much tea.”

Xinthi chuckled softly. “Silly girl, of course I mean elucidation. Would you like to try elucidating my dream?”

“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Kirin waved her hands in front of her. “Elucidation is way too advanced for me.”

“Please,” Xinthi urged simply. “I must insist. You lack training, but your house makes you naturally inclined toward matters of the goddess. Also, you are not yet a priestess and therefore are not subject to their oaths and obligations, nor oversight from the high priests, including the emperors. As unusual it might be to make this request of you, I’m sure you can imagine how much greater a scandal it would be were the high priests to discover that I have lost favor with the goddess. The noble summit is beginning soon, and I must have my nightmare resolved before I am called to account for the last two seasons. This is a duty that the goddess requires of you.”

“Alright, I can try,” Kirin mumbled miserably. This day was not going at all as she had hoped.

“Excellent.” Xinthi clasped her hands together and smiled toothily. “Now, to elucidate my dream, I will need you to observe it as it unfolds and keep track of the events and symbols. Then when it is concluded, you will report the symbols back to me in precise sequence. Of course, the more difficult part of elucidation is the interpretation of these symbols, and I will do that myself. I simply need you to identify and examine the symbols that I cannot perceive while in the dream.”

Kirin frowned. She couldn’t make sense of her own dreams; how was she supposed to keep track of the symbols in a Nassé’s dream?

“I do feel that I should acknowledge that elucidation does carry its risks,” Xinthi admitted. “The preparation for elucidation requires us to join our thought matter in a much more complicated way than what is done with a simple projection or cleansing. But there is nothing to fear. I will perform the braiding of our thought matter and guide you through the entire process. Now, if you would please shift into the third degree of focus and tell me when you can see my thoughts.”

Kirin swallowed hard and nodded. As before, she shifted into the first degree of focus and pushed further, watching as the primal matter materialized and then faded, replaced by a mass of silvery threads that were Xinthi’s thoughts. “I can see them.”

“Good,” Xinthi’s disembodied voice remarked approvingly. “Normally, the elucidator is responsible for weaving the braided pattern, but I will perform it. Please go ahead and release your thoughts.”

“I don’t know how,” Kirin stammered.

“You can start by relaxing. Think of some pleasant daydream you have had, perhaps a nice memory. Your thoughts will come out on their own.”

Kirin imagined a platter of steamed milk cakes and was surprised to see silver strands start to loosen and float in front of her eyes. “Those are my thoughts!” she exclaimed.

“Yes. I will now take our thoughts and braid them together. Not too tight, not too loose.”

Kirin watched as Xinthi gathered up her thought matter and began arranging the strands into three separate hanks, then doing the same to her own.

“The pattern is simple but consistent,” Xinthi commented as she worked. “Unlike other patterns, there is no risk of knotting or tangling. We simply overlap each hank, one over the other.” Eventually, their thoughts came together to form a perfect, semi-transparent rope that stretched between their foreheads.

Finished with the preparations, Xinthi continued. “Now that our thoughts are joined, I will show you my dream. Do not speak until it’s done, and do not, under any circumstances, break your focus. When the dream has finished, tell me everything you saw in the exact order you saw it. No detail is unimportant. Do you understand?”

Kirin nodded, although she knew Xinthi, who was also in the third degree of focus, couldn’t see her. “Yes, I do.”

“Good, then we shall begin.”

Kirin’s mind was immediately swallowed up in darkness, quickly replaced by a vivid scene all around her. She was walking down a gloomy chapel, a pillar of light shining in the distance. Set in the center of the pillar of light was an altar, behind which stood a wild-haired woman. Was this the Nassé’s dream? It did kind of feel like a dream, but unlike Kirin’s own dreams, she felt fully awake and able to think clearly about what she was seeing. But it still felt odd to sense her body in two places at once. She knew she was still kneeling on Xinthi’s bed, but she also felt herself walking deliberately toward this altar that she knew wasn’t real.

When her dream self finally reached the end of the chapel to stand in front of the altar, she saw that it was a table made out of stone. The purple cloth partially covering it was embroidered with glyphs that she recognized but couldn’t read.

The faceless woman with wild hair moved slightly behind the altar. She stood just outside of the pillar of light, and most of her body was beyond the light’s reach. On top of her silver curls sat a wreath made of fine, white jewels, which shone like stars. In her hand, she clutched a gold knife.

Kirin was suddenly made to look down. A young woman was now lying across the altar, with hands and feet bound together like a naru prepared for slaughter. She was just as unknown to Kirin as the wild-haired woman, but instead of a wreath, she wore a simple band of silver with celestial engravings across her forehead. The young woman was smiling eerily, like a child being led off to a terrible place by a kind-looking stranger.

Kirin felt sad for the woman on the altar, but quickly felt herself being tugged away by unseen hands. She saw a man watching beyond the edge of the light. He was shrouded in shadow, but even half-hidden, Kirin could see he was strikingly handsome, with fine features and black eyes. Kirin drew closer to him, mesmerized, but stopped short when the shadows surrounding him intensified threateningly.

She turned back to the altar and saw to her surprise that the wild-haired woman was gone and the altar was empty. Confused, Kirin again looked to the shadowy man and saw that the bound woman wearing the diadem was no longer bound, but standing hand in hand with him. She was too far away for Kirin to make out her face, but both she and the man slowly turned and began walking away. As they headed further into the shadows, the woman’s body began to glow, and strange black lines began to stretch across her skin. And then both the man and woman were gone.

A small cry drew Kirin’s attention to the altar, which was now more dimly lit. There was a small girl lying peacefully on the altar as a hooded priest in strange-looking robes stood above her with arms raised high, a glinting knife clenched in his hands. He was going to stab the girl! Kirin reached out to stop him, but it was too late. The knife plunged down, piercing the girl’s heart in a single stroke.

Kirin gasped as she watched the girl’s blood pour freely from her chest, immediately staining the entirety of her simple white dress with an unnatural, ruby-colored glow.

But the priest wasn’t yet done. He raised the knife again over the now-spasming body of the girl and drove it down again into her chest, creating a new source of blood, which began pooling on the ground. Once more he raised his arms, and the resulting strike finally took the life out of the girl, who finally fell limp on the altar. Slowly, and yet not unsettlingly, the priest, altar, and girl’s body faded from view.

Then there was a cracking noise. Kirin looked up to see the arch of the night sky appear overhead. The moon and stars all shone sweetly at first, but then each winked out as the sky suddenly burst, splintering like glass. Kirin moved to shield her eyes with her hands, but as she did, she saw that they were not her hands but rather the palms of the Nassé’s thin, white hands, cut up and bleeding from all the glass.

Kirin lurched backwards, both in the dream and physically, and the image flashed white, replaced by a vision of reality. She had forcibly unraveled the braid of their thoughts and slipped completely out of any degree of focus. She found herself leaning backwards on the bed, her hands braced behind her to keep herself propped up. She stared wide-eyed at the Nassé, who was glaring at her.

“Why did you do that?” Xinthi demanded. “If I hadn’t foreseen your sudden movement and loosened the braid, we both could have ended up insane or worse! Don’t you know how dangerous it is to break your concentration while performing an elucidation?”

Kirin choked, gripping the sharp pain at her temples. “I didn’t know!”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Xinthi growled. “You’re lucky that your thought matter didn’t snap back into your skull.”

“I’m sorry!”

“Never mind.” The Nassé waved her hand dismissively. “Now, I trust you had enough time to view my nightmare?”

“I-I suppose I did.”

The Nassé nodded slowly, her eyes squinting to piercing slits. “If you truly are as gifted as they say, tell me what you saw.”

Kirin drew in a long breath, trying to piece together her fragmented thoughts. “I saw lots of things. There was this wild-haired woman—or at least I think she was a woman. And then this priest killed a child and then I—er—you got all cut up by the glass and there was this—”

“Slow down!” Xinthi exclaimed. “You need to calm yourself and recount the dream for me in the exact order you saw it. No detail is too small.”

Kirin gulped and nodded slowly.

“Begin again.”

“Well, at first there was a shaft of white light. And there was an altar with a woman standing behind it. There was another woman lying on the altar, all tied up.”

“Can you describe their faces?” Xinthi asked.

“No, I can’t. It was too dark to be sure. I know the first woman was wearing a wreath of jewels. The second woman was smiling, I think, although I couldn’t make out the rest of her face. I don’t think she knew she was going to die. Oh! And she was wearing a diadem!”

Xinthi flinched slightly, her expression unchanged. “A diadem? That is a detail I do not recall.” She looked away from Kirin for a moment.

“Yes, it was made out of silver and had all sorts of engravings on it. There were suns, moons, and stars across it in a pattern.”

The Nassé’s lips twitched.

“There was a man in the shadows, watching,” Kirin continued, pursing her lips. “He tried to stay hidden, but I still saw him. He had the blackest eyes. And it was like he brought shadow with him. He was surrounded by it, even though the light was shining near him.”

“Surrounded by shadow?” Xinthi arched an eyebrow.

“I don’t really know what it was. I got distracted by the woman on the altar, but then she wasn’t there anymore, and instead ended up with the man. I only got to see them for a few seconds before they disappeared, along with the shadows.”

“Yes, yes, the woman with the black veins.”

Kirin frowned. “I don’t know that they were veins, actually. They were glowing like they should be white, but they kind of spread in more of like a pattern or—”

“What of the priest?” Xinthi interrupted. “The one who slew the child on the altar? Did you see his face?”

“No, he was wearing a hood. But I got a good look at his robes. They looked a little like priest robes but were very colorful. Sort of purple and golden,” Kirin said.

“And the girl?”

“She looked almost more like a doll. Well, a doll that bled when it was stabbed. He stabbed her three times, and her blood seemed to be glowing.”

“You claim her blood was glowing?”

Kirin nodded. “It was this strange red, not like real blood, but it was glowing as it came out of her and still glowing when it dripped onto the floor. It was very vivid and bright!”

“Interesting. Go on.”

“Well, then I heard a crack, and I looked up and I wasn’t in a chapel anymore. I was looking up at the stars and the moon, only they vanished and the sky just broke and rained glass all over me. And then I saw that I was bleeding, only I was looking down at your hands, not mine.” She held out her hands, confirming that her palms were still brown and broader than Xinthi’s.

“And then? Was there more?”

“No. I mean, I guess that’s when I panicked and broke the connection.”

“I see. So, you saw nothing more.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.” Kirin felt her eyes prick with tears.

“I would have you elucidate again, but not now. You are drained and would risk us both with your lack of control. No, you will go now and I will ponder what I have learned. Speak of this to no one.”

Kirin blinked, surprised at the abrupt dismissal. She opened the curtains and scooted off the mattress, turning to look at the prophetess, who still huddled in the shadows, enveloped by sheets and pillows. She watched as the pupils of the Nassé’s eyes gradually shrank into thin slivers as they stared off into the darkness. Completely unsure of what to make of this experience, Kirin closed the curtains and quietly exited the Chamber of Dreaming.