Section Author: 'Peredhil'

"Mommy the bad one's all tangled with this pretty one. Can you untangle it?"

He listened to her negative answer even as the black thread clung to his hands. He absently tap, tap, tapped his fingers repeatedly against the thread, feeling it stick, stick, stick icky-clingy to his fingers. His other hand still pulled at the gold thread in a vain attempt to separate them. The gold one was funny too, shimmery gold and white, green-edged in the light, but with a solid rigid core that gleamed nearly as black as the sticky-icky thread when stretched.

"Put those down please." The Dream Weaver nudged him away from the tangled skeins with her foot as her hands threw the shuttle back and forth as fast as she could move it.

He obediently dropped the threads and sat back.

The Black thread rested in a twisted mess on the floor, a loop writhing unnoticed on her foot. The shuttle slowed, the beater stumbled to a stop.

The Dream Weaver rested, for just a moment, eyes drooping. In a moment, a faint rumbling snore escaped her lips.

Graeson looked at the Loom in alarm. The fabric was bunching and snagging under the stresses while Mommy slept. Moving forward with tongue fixed firmly between his teeth, he carefully grasped the threads in one hand while he pushed at the Shuttle with the other.

When she awoke, the boy was gone.

* * * * *

Yui woke endlessly from a series of nightmares, each time finding herself still dreaming. Reality began to blur as she began to doubt even the times she was certain she was awake.

The chill shadow within strove against the shadow without; To her mounting horror they began to negotiate and intertwine.

A war-weary Aegon Del'rath returned to find a Letter spurning him on his pillow. The visiting Princess consoled him with hot eyes and cool hands.

Soi stood helplessly wringing her hands as teary-eyed Nakarei cut her with a flensing knife, protesting all the while that it was the only way to save her life.

The pain and terror came in rhythmic waves, becoming increasingly seductive as her exhaustion mounted. Each time she began ease into the pattern, clenching and releasing, anticipating the next pain or caress, she bucked and raged at her weaknesses. But her protests were becoming listless.

Tsukaremashita... michi ni mayoimashita... (6)

* * * * *

The Master straightened and rinsed the short razor in the basin. The streamer of blood made a lazy swirl as it blended with the already pinkened water. He cast a critical eye over the latest Glyph he'd just carved into her pale flesh.

She was strong, perhaps the strongest he'd had in years. He'd carved this Glyph into her back three times now, each time she'd managed to find a way to reject it.

He feared not let her waken completely, she might realize the reality of the situation and escape him completely.

A sudden broken sob. "Aegon..." The Glyph glowed crimson and faded until it was a tracery of fresh blood on unblemished creamy flesh.

He swore harshly. His pocked flesh billowed like a sail in a crosswind for a moment. Struggling for a moment, he regained control. She was like no Ascendant Mage he'd ever consumed. He glared at her bitterly, lashing her with tormenting shadows, layering dream within dream within dream until her body spasmed in a thousand terrors. The Senses-twisting Glyphs already scarred into her body each amplified his power. He could feel her spirit trembling on the brink, the Darkness within her rising and fighting for control.

"Hai!(7)" Removing one glove, he stretched his trembling hand toward her hungerly.

"No." Shaking her head in adamant denial, she twisted through the shadows, rejected the dreams, thrust back the Darkness within and without.

"NO!" Yui fought with clawed hands against unseen terrors with a frenzied strength. The Master looked at her in disbelief as he quickly withdrew his hand. What DROVE her to fight when all was so hopeless?!

Leaning forward, he patiently began again.

One. We are One...

* * * * *

He is dreaming of when he was a child. His father is near, the one light of his life. He is laughing and at peace, when the sky darkens. A sense of foreboding sweeps him, a fear from his father.

Mother's voice comes from behind him, calling them in from the storm. He can almost hear her name over the rising wind. His father's heavy cloak, embroidered with Ancient Words, swirls as he turns and they retreat in from the storm. Mother's grey-green eyes are filled with love as she looks at them both.

His heart drums so loudly it wakes him up.

Ancient Words? Mother? Something has changed the dream. Where were the marauders? Slowly the memory of the burnt mangled remains of his father strangle the dream. He voluntarily seeks sleep again, for the first time in 20 years, chasing the new dream.

Outside, the storm lashes and growls with balked hunger.