I'm dreaming. I can tell.

The sleepy haze takes over my senses as the dreadful feeling I'm being watched increases. I'm exactly where I was when I fell asleep; in my own proper tent, curled up against a soft mattress that smelled of lilac and vanilla.

Then I hear it.

"Missssstress." A voice hisses out slowly from somewhere in the darkness. My pulse hums fast as I open my eyelids that are heavy with sleep.

"I'm still asleep." I say slowly, still not understanding what was happening.

The sound came from the corner of my tent, where I'd set down a cloak that Claire had given me when I had returned from Kilian's tent. The soft sky blue fabric vibrates as an object underneath it pulses with a sharp blue light.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

"What the fuc—" Sweat drips down my neck as I hear the eerily strange voice once again. Shivers go down my spine in fear, and also— a breeze of icy air?

I swallow nervously.

"Misssstress. Open the book and you shall see. Come vissssssit usss." The voice slurs out as I gently step out of my bed.

"Why do you keep calling me mistress?" I ask hesitantly.

Another pulse of blue light comes from underneath the cloak.

Thump!

"Come home." It tells me, that gentle slur of a voice that sounds not wicked nor evil.

A cold breeze wraps around my arms as I reach the cloak and slowly place my hand on it, tugging it off of the source.

Underneath is the grimoire Varla gifted me.

The warning she'd sent through Kilian rings in my mind as I recall the blank pages capable of destruction in the wrong hands.

I reach out to run my fingertips against the cool leather, the large snowflake on the cover pulses with blue light— I snatch my hand back. I'm frightened by the mystery and the soft lullaby voice.

"We can help you, mistress." The voice is more clear now that I'm near the book, no longer slurring their words.

"Help me?" I furrow my eyebrows and take a breath; before I can change my mind— I place my hand on the cover.

My breath is stolen from me as I feel my body transport away from my dream and into this book. I'm whisked away like a mere wisp of airy nothing, light as a feather.

But brave as a lion.

•••

I feel cold.

The wind around me is chilly, and I'm face first in a pile of stiff snow.

I can tell that I'm still asleep, yet, I know that I've been transported somewhere by merely putting my fingertips on the grimoire.

"Mistress!" The rough lilt of the Scottish accent is prominent as someone delicately grabs onto my arm, helping me stand onto my feet. My head snaps up as I take in the sight in front of me; snowcapped mountains surrounded by a thick lush forest of autumn trees, a village not too far from where I stood full of grey brick roads and strongly built cobblestone homes.

Beyond that— my eyes must be wide in shock as I take in every delicious detail from this dream.

A castle, stones encrusted on every tower gleaming in the frosted light. The iridescent colors bounce off of the white painted brick walls and shine onto the village below it.

"Where—" I breathe in amazement.

Six towers in total, or so I count. Guards wearing midnight sky blue uniforms and furry hats line the stone gate doors conversing with villagers shopping near stalls next to the castle. So this is what the grimoire can do.

"Cyron, your imminence." The soft voice next to me sounds out as I jump slightly, having forgotten that I was helped up. I turn my head slightly to observe who is beside me— what is beside me.

A woman dressed in fur lined leathers bows her head, auburn curls bouncing as she smiles to herself gently. Her blue eyes are wide in delight as she clasps her hands together, white teeth gleaming in delight. That's not what catches my attention— it's the two horns shaped atop her head made from ice that stuns me into silence.

"It isn't polite to stare at them," she says silently in amusement. "But since this is your first time seeing them, it's okay. Although, we have to hurry." She grabs onto my hand with her freezing cold palm.

"Hurry to what?" I manage to stumble out the words as I'm dragged by this preppy Scottish ice-horned woman to god knows where.

"To my brother! I told him you'd come, I told him the prophecies never lie but—" she rambles on as I stop abruptly.

"The prophecy? What do you know of the prophecy?" I snatch my hand as if I'd been burned as I stare at her in suspicion. My heart is fluttering with nerves as she frowns at me.

"Mistress— you've come to Cyron to take the throne. To marry my brother and become the true cryokinesis ruler. You've defeated the war in the holdrex dimension and have been sent to accept your mate claim. Yes?" Her eyes are wide in wonder as I curl my lip up in horror.

"What on earth are you speaking of? I'm betrothed to nobody and certainly as hell not your brother." I growl out as she flinches.

"But, you've defeated the threat in holdrex, no?" She stares at me in curiosity as I take a deep breath.

"Look, whatever your name is—" I start, but she interrupts.

"Waren." She smiles.

"I'm still looking for my father. My main goal isn't even to stop this threat or war or whatever is happening in Atticus's realm." I explain to her as she furrows her eyebrows.

"Your father?" She hums to herself as she rocks on the heels of her feet.

" no, no, that just won't do. I guess you'll need a slight push in the right direction before you're able to come here. Fine— a clue. My brother can wait." She grins at me as I take a step back.

"You must go now— go to the Raksha and negotiate. Alone. Only then will it be clear as to where your father is. I'm assuming you've gotten to the river, yes?" She inquired impatiently as I swallow slightly.

"Yes." I whisper, stunned to say anything more.

"Then you must go now, alone. Do not be afraid, this realm will still be here when you're done your quest. We will still be here." Her Scottish accent deepens as she reaches a palm onto my face and stares her icy eyes into my very soul.

"Awaken, Mistress Viola."

•••

I wake up scared and confused, heart racing from what I'm not so sure was really a dream. A wacky dream— something my mind made up amidst the chaos? I can't risk it.

When I think I'm finally alone, I make my move.

The night sky is luminous tonight and I'm afraid I might be seen if anyone is awake. The stars twinkle with glee, as if my father wasn't in the underworld and my life wasn't going to complete shit right now; life just goes on.

I use the thick brush of bushes to hide behind, crunching on snow very slightly. My fathers slimy eyeball weighs heavily in my cloak pocket, as if pleading with me not to do this. I clench the grimoire Varla sent me— I know I have to keep it in my sight, not knowing what type of hell it could save me from; or unleash.

It can be a trap. It can be a trap. It can be a trap. My mind whirls with possibilities— scenarios, but I silence them. My steps are quick, movements sly as a fox as I force myself into action within minutes of waking up. There is no time to lose.

"I can do this." I whisper to myself, chewing on my bottom lip. Do I wake Kilian and ask him to come with me? Waren said the word 'alone', so alone is what I must be. With one last look at the dark camp, I turn and start my walk to the river. It was time for me to finally finish this—

It was time for me to make my way into Settrinos, prophecy be damned.

Me being damned with it.

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