I lean forward, scribbling on the paper while she watches and when I finish, she strides over, peering down at my words.
I’d never met Aurelia before she came here.
She tilts her head slightly, thinking it over, her eyes narrowing.
“Aurelia has intense dark energy. Something I’ve never sensed in anyone before. But I can’t read it. It’s blocked.”
My brows furrow as she sits down and starts preparing, lighting candles, incense and whatever else she can find. Then she moves across the room, drawing the curtains with a swift pull before flipping off the light. Shadows spill over everything, flickering with the candle flames as she returns to me.
She stands behind me, and I catch the glint of scissors in her hand just a second too late.
Snip.
A lock of my hair falls, and I jerk away, turning to glare at her.
“I don’t usually do this,” she murmurs, ignoring my stare, “but it could help if you’re willing to feel it. And believe it.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, as she walks back to her desk.
“I can try to cast a spell,” she continues. “One I’ve read about before.The Night Awakening. But I’m no practiced witch, so I can’t be sure it will work.”
I just stare at her, wondering if she’s lost it, but honestly, what fucking choice do I have?
“If what I think is happening is true,” she says, her tone calm, “this will bring your nightmares into focus. If they’re not just dreams, but memories hidden and twisted by time or trauma, this will strip the noise away. No Aurelia. No shadows. Just the truth. Raw and vivid. The day it all began.”
“I feel like Aurelia is just a facade,” she continues softly, eyes narrowing. “Because you’re changing for her. And whatever’s got power over your dreams… it doesn’t like that. It’s pushing back, hard. It’s using her as your weakness because it wants you to stay exactly who you’ve always been.”
She takes a breath, gaze steady on mine.
“The best thing you can do now is keep rebelling. If she’s what you really want, hold onto that. But Wrath, when, and if, the spell clears your nightmares, know they’ll only stop haunting you when you face them. When youownthem. And the only way out is through. Free yourself by making it right… whateveritis.”
She takes a black bowl, fills it with water, drops the hair in, some herbs and other stuff, then she takes a needle, and leans over, wanting my hand.
I lift it, and she glances at the lettering sliced into my palm before she pricks my finger. She pulls me forward until the drop of blood lands in the water, curling outward.
Then a chant crawls from her lips like something ancient’s been waiting to be spoken again.
“Blood to bone, and soul to thread.
Darkness wake what once was dead.
From dream to ash, from hurt to flame,
Show him now from where it came.
Unmask the face, undo the bind.
Bring the truth into his mind.”
Her voice changes halfway through, dipping into something guttural and her eyes roll back, whites glowing in the low firelight as her head tips toward the ceiling.
The flame on the center candle snaps upward in a straight line, no flicker, just a solid stretch of heat, like something invisible is pulling it tight. I watch it carefully, eyes narrowed until suddenly, it waves again.
Madame sways, catching herself on the desk, and then drops into her chair. Her eyes come back gradually, and when they do, they’re heavy.
“It should be in motion now,” she whispers. “You won’t know when it’s coming. But it will. The dream may hit when it wants to.”
I nod once, suspicious of what the fuck has just happened. Then I stand, the chair scraping beneath me, and without another look, I turn and walk out of her chamber.