Alraune Kestrel

Alraune slipped easily through the mists, the cool tendrils brushing her skin in the hollow, empty way that the dreaming always did. She smiled as she took note once again of the contrast between the dreaming and the waking worlds. She loved the freedom of the dreaming, the malleable nature of the mists, but nothing within the tapestry could compare with the bliss of a warm summer breeze upon bare skin.

Adam had been there during her early days of discovery, and still today she thrilled at the heat of the sun, the caress of the wind.

The kiss of dew upon her feet.

She walked through the tendrils, confident, her path as certain as air. The Duke had done as she’d instructed, placing the enchanted herbs beneath his pillow. His dreams, sparked by his memories and his heart’s desire and fueled by the herbs, shone through the grey landscape like dragon fire.

No mischief, no wicked pleasure, nor was there a cavalier dismissal. Alraune approached with care and respect, her steps quiet, her long moonlight hair still around her shoulders, framing her face and curtaining her breasts. Another time, another place, Alraune knew she would have delighted in tweaking and twisting the dreams that burned in Irvyn, assuring the Duke would wake roused by the base acts he’d enjoyed in his dreams the night before.

No. He trusted her and Adam, and no matter how much her wicked juices bubbled for release, she would not jeopardize that trust – not now, not ever. He did not ask for her help, but she’d offered, and she intended to do everything she could to help him find some peace.

And this was but the first step of many.

The light was almost blinding as she reached the edges of Irvyn’s dreams. Bright white at the core, the edges the most transcendent blue, fragile as a soap bubble, and yet strong as steel.

Heat and scent filled the air, like cedar in sunlight after a rain. Alraune narrowed her gaze and looked at the beautiful woman, her red hair a herald of color in the core of the light, seeing her with the Duke's eyes and memory.

That was her, Alraune thought. The earthy, living scent of the forest. She was not a flower to bloom for a finite time, to be crushed by boots or eaten by deer. No, her roots were deep, her power to renew and revive beyond the power of snow or drought. Strength and determination burned in her as much as love.

Alraune watched the dream, staring into the light, watched Irvyn and Seriya embrace and enfold each other, take and give, rise and fall. Her heart constricted as she watched the two dreaming figures curl around each other, sleep within the dreaming, breaths evenly matched, two hearts beating as one.

Alraune stepped closer and looked down at the Duke, his face shining like silver in the glow. She’d never seen him look so relaxed, so content.

She reached out to him and brushed a stray lock of his hair from his forehead.

“You are stronger then I ever could be,” she whispered into the shadows.

The dreamwalker cupped her hand within the dragon fire and carved a piece of light away. Carefully clasped in her hands, as she might hold a butterfly, Alraune lifted the ball of fire to her face and inhaled.

Cedar, warm and moist, a hint of rainwater, and the sweet musk of earth.

She turned from them and walked back to the edge of the dream. She had her guide, now all she need do was let it lead her to Seriya.

She stopped, turned and looked at the sleeping pair.

So easy to give this to him, the dream of her and a shared life together. He was happy now, here, holding his heart within the circle of his arms, even if it was only a dream.

Alraune looked at the ball of light that danced in the palm of her hand. Yes, an ancient incantation, one she remembered from her youth, and Irvyn could be happy for the rest of his life. She pulled the words from the recesses of her mind and began to speak as the mists swirled around her.

A breeze picked up her hair and caressed her skin, the shadow of sensation freezing the words on her tongue.

She looked up at the lovers, her gaze suddenly slick with tears.

A dream. That’s all it was, all it could ever be.

She pulled the ball of light to her cheek, let the warmth of it dry her gaze, and walked slowly toward morning and a soft summer breeze, toward the waking world with all its pleasures and sorrows, all its hope and heartache.

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