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meant Charlotte
was safe from Nhyxes, so long as they stayed within the frequency of the
dreams. It was odd that Charlotte couldn’t dream, considering the rest of her
family were Dreamers. Even odder was that she never had nightmares either. Her
sleeping was always silent and dark and peaceful. Adabelle often envied her
sister for this odd gift. With all the nightmares she suffered though, some of
those dreams that came were heaven. Dreams where she met with her mother and
talked life, dreams where she and her sister were able to live happy. Dreams
where she’d had a different father to the one with which she’d had to suffer.
    She couldn’t remember much
of the night she’d left her mother, but she knew after that she’d never heard
of her mother again and her father had disappeared, too. Mrs. Abeth had filled
in the blanks after that. Her father had killed her mother, and her father,
Count Therron Blaise, had disappeared, sealed away into a dreamsphere in the Oen’Aerei’s
archives for life. He would never see the light of day again, nor breathe real
air. He would stay somewhere in the Dream Archives till the end of his days.
    She would see Larraine
before too long, just to make sure she was okay, and when she did she would be
sure to inform her of her mother’s wellbeing. Larraine rarely visited Marie, as
it was too painful for her to see her in that state, but she was always happy
to hear that her mother was doing well.
    For the time, though,
Adabelle enjoyed her lunch while she could, deciding it best to not let other’s
troubles bother her until she had to. She had enough to worry about it was.

Chapter Two
A Sturding Nhyx
     
    Adabelle took it upon
herself to keep an eye out for the Nhyx that night while asleep. They usually never
attacked alone, nor did it ever only attack once. They usually came in waves.
She hated entering the Dream Frequencies, but she had to if she was going to
keep her dormitory friends safe.
    As always, she started
within her own dreams—in this case, her room. It made it easier to orient
herself when she dreamed into existence the place she slept. By positioning
herself there, her subconscious automatically situated herself in the exact
same position as the real world. If she looked to her left where her sister
lay, she saw only a wall of blackness. A deep, unfathomable shadow so devoid of
imaginative thought and dreaming; or at least, that’s what she saw. Beneath
that darkness could be a river of thought flowing, a mass of lights and images.
But Adabelle only felt silence and saw stillness.
    She pulled herself from her
bed. Her feet touched what felt like solid floor, and then she walked forwards.
The room felt whole around her, but as she walked towards the wall, the paint
and plasterboard fuzzed, turning dark, and then shimmered into an entirely
different surrounding. This one was a city, it was raining, and there were
monsters.
    She was in the mind of a
girl named Elian, and she was dreaming of what appeared to be a far blander
city than that they lived in now. Odilla was one of the most beautiful cities
in all of the countries on the continent. Definitely the one with the most monuments,
statues and fountains, at least. This city Elliana dreamt was grey, square and
bland and very practical. But there was pollution heavy in the sky, coming from
smokestacks in the distance, and from the hundreds of cars that clogged the
streets. Engines shook the air in a chorus of fuel-powered rumbling. Headlights
bloomed through the smog, shining on the automobiles in front. They were
stacked, back-to-back, barely moving. People walked the side streets, damp
cloths to their faces, coughing through the pollution. A creature screamed. No,
roared. Its cry was like train brakes screeching against railing. Adabelle
looked up towards the clock tower above her. The face was illuminated, and in
that illumination was a shadow. A beast. It was winged and horned and dark, a
monster like in her childhood