Dreamworms Book 1: The Advent of Dreamtech by Isaac Petrov (drm ebook reader TXT) 📕

this memory only did show such ambition in the human’s female parent. The candidate seemed merely… curious.”

“This was but the beginning, Overseer Yog,” Rew explains. “The candidate has since shown repeated active behavior in the pursuit of change. Just recently she infiltrated an official space in a doomed attempt to shake the power of the elites.”

“Too risky, Walker Rew. This human’s motivations—love and change—are too… faint. I am still unconvinced.”

“We shall then dig deeper,” Rew says. “Until you see what I know.”

“No time, Walker. I shall grant this human one last inspection, since your… belief is so strong. But then we shall proceed to the next candidates.”

“Very well.” She turns to Edda, whose eyes are wide with fright. “Redeemed van Dolah, take us to the last door.”

“Th- The last…” She turns towards the deeper end of the hallway, “Sorry. I- I can’t.”

“You can,” Rew says, speaking uncharacteristically slowly. “You can, Redeemed van Dolah. Do lead on.”

Like a zombie, she begins to drag her legs, slowly, down the hallway. Ximena feels raw dread filling her body—her soul—as she pushes herself forward.

She walks and walks until the air tastes… stale and bleak. And on she walks, passing door after door after door. Sudden images of Willem, of Anika, flash across her sight, as she musters every last fiber of willpower.

And then, the hallway comes to an end on a narrow wall with a single door—a black door, in the darkest rim of Edda’s memories. She is panting, eyes injected with horror, like she has just pulled a corpse across a field of mud—like the corpse is her own.

“Do open the door,” Rew says.

Edda continues to pant, frozen in place, like a jumper staring down the edge of a skyscraper.

“Do open the door, Redeemed van Dolah.”

“Which… which door?” she asks, her voice breaking.

“Do open the door, Redeemed van Dolah, or you shall never Walk the Paths.”

Edda falls on her knees and weeps. The pain Ximena feels coming from her is almost physical. She wished it were—it would be more bearable.

“Please, open the door, Redeemed van Dolah,” Rew says, her voice softening. “Do it for your father.”

“For…” she stretches out, slowly, painfully, until her fingers rest against the black door, “… Dad.”

Edda pushes the door open.

Twelve

The Joyousday of Anika van Dolah

The Van Dolah family sits on cushions around the low table in the center of the Evocation Room. Well, not the entire family. Little Hans wasn’t around back then, three years ago, Ximena realizes. Thirteen-year-old Edda has arranged the decoration all by herself. She has gone with a colorful display of fall leaves, mixed with a careful selection of fresh flowers of matching colors. Ximena can feel her pride at the resulting effect: festive with a shade of farewell. Ten-year-old Bram suggested a large happy-faced pumpkin on each corner, but Edda refused. This is Mom’s Joyousday, not Halloween, Goah’s Mercy!

“Come on, Ani. Tell us one more.” Willem is almost twenty-five, but he is holding his older sister’s hands like he is a little boy learning to swim, afraid to let go.

“Yes, Mom, please.” Ten-year-old Bram smiles radiantly with the confidence of a new adult. “Tell us another story of your life before you go. Something we can tell your future grandchildren. And when I see you again in seventeen years, I promise I’ll tell you all about them!”

Anika, looking splendid in her white tunic, lets go of one of Willem’s hands, and puts it softly on Bram’s cheek. “Seventeen years,” she says, her expression turning somber. “That is a long time, boy.”

“It is!” Willem laughs—a loud, lighthearted type of laughter, but he doesn’t get it quite right. There is a nervous undertone, a hidden anxiety in his voice. “But don’t worry, Ani. I’ll be there with you in no time. Three years pass by flying. Then we can watch this lot together.”

“Together…” Anika’s eyes wander to an empty point on the wall.

“Yes, and in the meantime, you make sure to tell Mom and Dad how wonderful their grandchildren are, all right? And that I miss them awfully.”

“Yes, me too!” Edda says. “And tell them Bran came out kind of all right,” she adds with a chuckle.

Anika, still staring at the wall, says, “It doesn’t make sense.”

“Huh?” Willem’s smile twitches, but it’s just an instant.

She meets his glance, no trace of contentedness on her beautiful face. “Why tell anything to Mom and Dad, if they’re watching over us?”

“Yeah, uh, m- maybe they…”

Tears well up in her eyes. “Or why do you need to tell me about our grandchildren, if I’m to have a front-row view over their lives?”

“Anika…” Willem’s imploring eyes pierce his sister’s.

She blinks a tear away, and then nods and smiles to her two children. “I will, of course, send your love to your grandparents, girl,” she tells Edda. “And tell them about your wonderful brother.”

Bram smiles at the words, but Edda doesn’t. Ximena feels the wrongness as well.

The outer door to the Evocation Room opens, and a smiling man—a Quaestor in formal purple robes—enters. He is followed by three white-robbed acolytes: two men and a woman—Marjolein Mathus, Ximena immediately recognizes. Not even twenty yet, and her aspect not as carefully tended, with her blonde hair falling flat instead of finely braided, but it is her, all right.

The Quaestor rubs his hands together and turns to Anika. “I trust your evocations have been satisfactory, Elder van Dolah?” He then waves both hands at the family. “They shall all be blessed in Goah’s Eyes.” He shuts his eyes and sinks his head, murmuring some words to himself. Then he directs a fresh smile at Anika, and says, “Shall we proceed to aws Embrace?”

“Can we get more time, Quaestor Menger?” Anika asks, her breathing quickening. “There’s so much I need to tell my family.”

“And you shall, my child. But not on Earth. Rejoice, Elder van Dolah, for the time has come to meet the Love of your creator.” He gestures invitingly at the door opposite the one they entered from,