Somewhere across the Fade, Ness's ear twitches, and she stops, listening. She's—working, maybe, or resting, her surroundings rippling as the dream attempts to find a shape that will hold her attention. There's no reason to listen so carefully, there's nothing that could be more important than what she's already doing. She doesn't need to worry. Slowly, she relaxes, sinking back into the dream—
Ennaris!
The soft edges of the dream around her shatter. There's nothing that could be more important to her than this, nothing that could distract her. Like a surgeon stood in front of a body, the rest of the world falls away, until there is only Ness and the problem: Stephen is in pain, and he's calling out for her.
The dream resolves around her, taking shape and following her expectations. She's in the Quartermaster's office, sat at her desk; Stephen's voice echoes around the walls, as though he's called her from another room in the tower. Ness stands, sweeping out from behind her desk to run to the office door. The heavy wood sticks on its hinges and she frowns, and tries again with more force. The dream outside the office resists her influence, wants to remain a confusing labyrinth of stacks and carnivorous books—but Ness shoves, insists on reality, and the door opens to a familiar hallway.
In the Archive, the dream ripples, meets an iron-clad sense of reality and falls to its insistent press, and the stacks between Stephen and the door recede into the floor. Books stop biting his ankles. The inky darkness around him billows, but holds, and Vazeiros growls, ripping the dagger from Stephen's thigh. He dissolves into the darkness again, though not for long—a leg sweeps at Stephen's ankles, and Vazeiros falls on him as soon as his back is on the ground, dagger aimed straight for Stephen's heart.
"Stephen? Where are you?" Ness's voices rings through the Archive, clarion and clear, and the dream shudders as though from an earthquake. "Call my name again, I can't find you!"
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Somewhere across the Fade, Ness's ear twitches, and she stops, listening. She's—working, maybe, or resting, her surroundings rippling as the dream attempts to find a shape that will hold her attention. There's no reason to listen so carefully, there's nothing that could be more important than what she's already doing. She doesn't need to worry. Slowly, she relaxes, sinking back into the dream—
Ennaris!
The soft edges of the dream around her shatter. There's nothing that could be more important to her than this, nothing that could distract her. Like a surgeon stood in front of a body, the rest of the world falls away, until there is only Ness and the problem: Stephen is in pain, and he's calling out for her.
The dream resolves around her, taking shape and following her expectations. She's in the Quartermaster's office, sat at her desk; Stephen's voice echoes around the walls, as though he's called her from another room in the tower. Ness stands, sweeping out from behind her desk to run to the office door. The heavy wood sticks on its hinges and she frowns, and tries again with more force. The dream outside the office resists her influence, wants to remain a confusing labyrinth of stacks and carnivorous books—but Ness shoves, insists on reality, and the door opens to a familiar hallway.
In the Archive, the dream ripples, meets an iron-clad sense of reality and falls to its insistent press, and the stacks between Stephen and the door recede into the floor. Books stop biting his ankles. The inky darkness around him billows, but holds, and Vazeiros growls, ripping the dagger from Stephen's thigh. He dissolves into the darkness again, though not for long—a leg sweeps at Stephen's ankles, and Vazeiros falls on him as soon as his back is on the ground, dagger aimed straight for Stephen's heart.
"Stephen? Where are you?" Ness's voices rings through the Archive, clarion and clear, and the dream shudders as though from an earthquake. "Call my name again, I can't find you!"