FIFTY: Dream and the Prince will come

Those eyes were warnings.

The handsome face floated above her. Dark brown hair, apple red cheeks, large grey horse eyes.  The face was comfortable, familiar. She knew she’d never seen it before.

She knew she’d stared into those eyes for hours.

Those eyes were warnings.

Jude’s eyes.

Jude was warning her about . . . about . . . 

She  walked into the HaleSpa together and right to the Purple Ward. Everyone stared.

            She wished that face was with her. She shook so much she saw her hand shake right off and float away from her.

            A room with white walls enclosed her but breathed.

            Siobhan’s lay across the room in a cage of light and fog. Her eyes were closed and her breath was shallow.

            “Please, please,” she heard herself say.

            “She was sick,” he said.  Who is that man?

            A familiar face. As familiar as her childhood, and yet?

            “And yet?” he asked her.

            “I know!” she yelled but she didn’t have the words.

            “I’m only trying to save her,” he said.

            “I can save her let me try!”

            “The fog has taken over.”

            “No, in the Mist she’ll find comfort,” Arous said to the man. She needed to reassure him. “In the Mist they always find rest.”

            He started laughing.

            She didn’t get the joke.

            Two cocoons stood on either side of the cage, cocoons of fog and shadow that stood eight feet tall. No nine. No ten.  They were growing and humming.

            In one of the cocoons she saw those eyes.  Those comforting, grey eyes.

            Two Miasmen stood on either side of the fog cage.

            The man started giving orders to one of the cocoons. “Aspirate her skin. Until it sucks in on itself. Breath like a black hole. Trauma, drama. Save her from the trauma, drama. Just like you could.” He turned to Arous. He was only a smiling mouth now.

She was wearing a yellow sundress now.

“Daddy, I have the power.”

            “I know you do my dear. Just like in my dreams.”

            The smile pointed to one of the cocoons “Remove your fog.”

            And the cocoon was now a boy, a Spartan Guard dressed in a Grey Suit, with a red silk tie and mirrored, red-rimmed glasses.  He lowered his glasses and winked at her.

            It was Simon, the boy from the Rabbithole.

            “You’re so handsome in your suit.”

            “Let’s take a walk.” They walked in a field of yellow daffodils.

            In the field was a huge wooden S and on it hung a Snake.  It was silver with bronze flecked scales covering all of its body. On top of the scales were feathers: around his face, along the spine of his back and on his tail.  The feathers were brilliant red mostly, with hints of royal, light blue. He had rich dark orange down on his belly and the top of his head.  The feather that clumped around his head were thick and extended down his back covering wings near the first third of his body.  He had feet like an eagle that were pulled tight into the lower third of his body just above the tail.  His eys were a sparkling bronze, as were his hidden talons.

            The smile was talking to the Snake and laughing.

            “Because he’s not a Snake, silly girl, he’s a dragon. What’s name!”

            “I’m not a traitor. I’m not. I’m not.” whispered Siobhan. It was her on the S.

            It was the Diofe on the S. His face was twisted and crooked.

            “Unforgiveness is a problem,” said the smile. She was naked except for the Mist that surrounded her.  She looked a Siobhan in a pile at her feet.  The S was gone. The flowers were gone. She was surrounded by stones.

            The smile reached for her.

            “I’m reaching for you, Arous. You and me, we can save the world. Better than you saved Priscilla.”

But it was the Snake, not the smile. His beautiful eyes staring into hers.

“What’s name,” Arous heard herself say.

“Quetzalcoatyl,” he purred at her. “Say my name, Arous. I can help you. Quetzalcoatyl.”

Siobhan was in her arms and sighed and didn’t inhale again.

            “Siobhan?”

            Siobhan’s eyes opened and the muscles on her face relaxed.

            “No, Diofe, no. Help me. Help me. Miguel! Edlawit!”

“Save her, like you saved Priscilla.”

And there he was, the boy with the grey eyes holding her, kissing her forhead. Using Edlawit’s voice he said, “It’s okay, love.”

The he was gone and she was falling through blackness and she could hear Edlawit screaming, “No, Arous. No!”

Down in the blackness below her, Arous could see Priscilla’s face falling just out of reach.