What happened after Rekema made her wear the headpiece was hazy to Mari. Rekema had made many demands and orders through Mari, so many that Mari couldn't keep up, not with the everlasting fog around her mind. She remembered the men; Rekema called them guards. Rekema had them take Dainan and the men who talked to him away. Mari couldn't remember where. Before she could dwell on it, Rekema had Mari follow some of the guards up a flight of stairs. More orders were given, and Mari found herself in a room that reminded her of the cottage, only larger and cleaner. Rekema let go of Mari, and she stumbled to the bed. She barely pulled herself onto it. Her eyes couldn't stay open; she couldn't even move her legs or arms to get into a more comfortable position. She fell asleep to the excited chatter of the Seven.

Mari didn't dream. Never. Not once in her life did she remember one at least. Muraad had said it was because she had nothing to dream of. She had everything she wanted. At least, Muraad said so. She had never been exposed to anything she could dread. Mari thought it was true, even if she wasn't sure what dread was. Nothing desired, nothing dreaded, nothing dreamed. Why should she dream? Why should she see anything in those strange, lost hours of the night?

That night, Mari discovered the dream of dread. The nightmare.

With a quick breath, Mari's eyes flew open as she convulsed. She moved as if trying to tear herself in two. She couldn't help but let out a short grunt when she hit the floor, even though her throat burned in protest. Mari heard a flurry of movement.

"What are you doing?"

Mari saw Mallory and Meeko standing above her; Meeko hung behind his twin, covering a laugh.

Mari's throat felt raw and scraped, even if she had an answer, she wouldn't have wanted to risk using her voice. She pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing at the soreness in her arms.

"Okay, you two back up," Muraad stepped into Mari's line of sight. Mari sighed, smiling slightly.

Mallory huffed, but stepped back, forcing Meeko back as well. Muraad tilted his head, and with a quick hand gesture, Mari was pulled to her feet.

Mari fell back onto the bed. Muraad sat next to her, "So, you finally woke up."

Mari blinked and tried to clear her throat. Muraad pointed to a table in the middle of the room, saying something about taking control while she was unconscious to get it for when she woke up. There was a tray of odd looking food. She forced herself over there and tore into the food. In seconds, it was gone. She coughed, forcing it down. Once done, she grabbed the glass with one hand, supporting herself on the table with the other. She drank like she hadn't seen water in months. It spilled down her face, onto her neck, and stained the torn collar of her dress.

"Don't choke," Mallory called out.

Mari pulled the glass away from her mouth, bowing her head. She hobbled back to the bed, ignoring Meeko's giggles. Her voice came out rasped and harsh as she coughed, "Was I asleep for long?"

"Two days." Meeko jumped onto the bed and towered over her.

Mari glanced up before quickly bowing her head again in submission.

Meeko pulled on her hair, jerking her head to the side. "Don't be like that. I'm not the one upset."

Muraad scowled and pushed him off the bed. "Go tell Rekema that Mari's up."

Meeko stuck his tongue out and screwed up his eyes. "Whatever you say."

The small boy disappeared, but his twin stayed. Muraad turned and glared. "Go with him."

She threw up her hands, rolling her eyes. "If you absolutely insist."

The girl had gone.

"Get up, you're filthy. You need to wash your hands and face." Mari turned to Muraad. He ruffled her hair, and at her blank look, he turned her around. "Over there on the dresser."

Mari stood up and let Muraad point her to a bowl of water with a square piece of cloth next to it. She walked up to the strange chest. It was a dresser, according to Muraad. The dresser had an odd, clear, reflective material on the wall behind it. She ducked her head, picking up a rag and wetting it. She shrugged off the strange furniture and focused on removing the reds, grays, and browns from her skin. Once she was done, she wiped her face dry with her sleeve. Without looking at her reflection, Mari turned to Muraad.

"So, pet." Muraad leaned against the pillows. Mari sat at the edge of the bed. He crossed his legs. "You going to tell me about your first dream?"

"I thought..." Mari looked at her hands, still seeing flecks of red under her nails. She frowned, barely lifting her eyes, "But, you said I do not desire anything, so I do not dream anything."

"Yes." Muraad's scales caught the light of the room. He sat up, and Mari kept her head bowed. Her stomach rolled, and she wished she hadn't eaten. Mari couldn't guarantee it was going to stay in her stomach. Muraad stared at her; she could feel it. "So, something changed. Tell me what you dreamed about."

"It was dark." Mari fiddled with the frayed edge of her skirt. "I was outside, in the middle of the uh, city. There were many people around, but they didn't move, at all. It was just me, and I—"

Mari stopped as she felt a pull on her. A second later, Rekema appeared. She tossed her hair back, and with a smile, she said, "You're awake, Mari. Perfect, come on, Muraad. We have much to do Underneath."

Muraad sat up. "Now?"

"Yes, now! All of us need to be there. This is important." Rekema put a claw on her hip.

Muraad stood up and walked over to her. He spoke softly, but Mari heard him, "And just leave her with no supervision?"

Rekema rolled her eyes. "And who would stay? You trust the twins with her? Balak? Apep? Bidkar? I certainly can't do it."

Muraad looked down; he didn't say anything.

"Face it, Muraad, the only one you trust Mari with is yourself. We've left her without us once before, and we're going to have to do it often, now that everything has begun." Rekema leaned in, keeping her voice low, and Mari only just heard what she said.

Muraad stepped closer. "What if someone tries a stunt like the one from the throne room?"

Mari wasn't sure what he meant. Her mind hadn't been in a good place, so much had happened, and she didn't know what a stunt was.

"Oh, please. No one is going to come in here, the guards will stop anyone. They're loyal to us, remember? They don't have a choice," Rekema said. Mari thought back to the throne room, straining her mind. Her memories cleared slightly. She remembered a surge of power and realized what Rekema meant. She had put the guards under a spell.

Muraad growled; his scales seemed to multiply across his skin. "Fine, you win."

Mari stared at the ground, not wanting them to be upset with her for listening. A hand came down and ruffled her hair. She stood up. Murrad couldn't meet her gaze, "We'll be off then, but we won't be gone long. I'll be back soon."

Mari swallowed, wishing she could tell them not to go. She remembered the hours sitting in the cottage. Wanting things was strange and new to her, but she knew that was not what she wanted.

Muraad sighed, and stepped backwards. He said, "It's important, or else I wouldn't do this. Don't give that look. It's for the best."

Rekema made a noise in her throat. She spoke quickly, "We'll be back as soon as we can. When we get back, we'll have lots to do, so just wait."

Mari nodded. The two disappeared. She pulled her legs up onto the fluffy bed, to begin her wait. Did waiting always begin with a sinking feeling in her stomach? Did it always involve this strange crushing, suffocating sensation? The hollow feeling, the emptiness, how long would it last? She was filled with questions, and she was beginning to believe there were no answers.