53 A Boy In the Dark (1/2)

In the Veil, Isilla shifted through the dreamers in the space above, searching for the Udane's familiar signature. The darktellers were buried under other dreams, hidden in the ebb and flow of other's fears and desires. She found the woman pinpointing her and dropping into the space.

Piles of garbage met her, larger than anything could be in the waking world. Mountains of trash that towered over her head. She walked down the path, Ilun trailing behind her. Rats and cockroaches crawled over everything and puddles of noxious liquid covered the ground. She stepped around them following the familiar thread.

As Mireia had been, Udane simply sat on an upturned barrel, observing the dreamer as they played out their own nightmare. As before, she resisted the urge to change anything, pulling back the long threads of light that rose to change, to create more of itself.

”Hello, dreamweaver,” the old woman said, her voice pleasant as she turned to face her.

”Hello, Udane,” Isilla replied, nodding her head slightly in greeting.

”Aseir told me that you had spoken to him, that your husband may know the place where we are held,” the woman said slowly. ”I assume that is why you have sought me out today.”

”Yes,” she said taking a seat next to her on a crate.

”And did you speak to your husband? About us? About his dream?” she asked.

”No,” Isilla answered honestly. ”There wasn't time.”

”And will you make time, Princess? There is a change, in the Veil. I can feel it, the energy has shifted, become more stable.”

Isilla nodded, ”Yes, but that does not mean I will abandon you. I told Aseir that I would find you as well.”

”So what is it that you need from me? There is nothing I can tell you about where we are held. The king, at the time, strangled me until I passed out. I was brought to where we are now. The others were drugged or made to wear hoods. All I can tell you is that we are near the palace, perhaps in the city itself, perhaps in the wood. That is all I can say.”

”No, it is not that,” Isilla said slowly. ”It is my husband. Did you know Arren?”

She tilted her head. ”There were many people who came to where we are held. Many of them died there. Some of our captors have children that came with them. Some poor children were made to work but no princes were ever held with us.”

”How do you know?” she asked.

She smiled sadly, ”You say Ero is king now?”

Isilla nodded.

”How is he? Does he seem well?”

Isilla frowned, unsure of how to respond. ”He is,” she started, ”well. I suppose. He seemed very healthy the few times I've met him.”

”Does he,” the woman started pausing, considering her words, ”does he seem to have control of his darkness? Can you see it in his eyes?”

Isilla nodded, ”I don't know how much control he has, I think he wants people to see it. Yes, you can see it in his eyes. He seems very strong.”

”Ah,” the old woman said. ”That is too bad. His father would be proud. And the sons, what of them?”

”Lehan seems to be less powerful than Arren. Arren's darkness spills from him but he keeps it from his eyes.”

”Then your husband has both power and control. That is good,” she said softly. ”It means that he is unlikely to hurt you. What of Eros wife? Have you met her?”