Dreamer (The Dream World Chronicles Book 1) by Camille Peters (thriller books to read .txt) 📕

the Council tower. The night was jarring after the bright sunlight from the chamber, but beneath the starlight I could admire the surroundings we soared past. Clusters of cottages with thatched roofs made from fresh blossoms and lush gardens of spectacular flora dotted the landscape, as did rows of various shops.

We flew to a tall lighthouse structure that jutted from the center of a rose-tinted lake, its surface so smooth it reflected the velvety sky above. Rather than standing tall and erect, the tower twisted, its top swallowed up by the starlit sky. Hundreds of crystal windows draped with petal curtains stacked on top of one another, their cursive addresses glistening above them.

We hovered outside window number 717. Angel took a key from her shoulder bag and, to my surprise, unlocked it as if it were a door. We entered a charming parlor featuring walls comprised of nature murals and a floor of cream carpet bathed in artistic moonlit patterns. Plump cloud sofas and armchairs sat arranged around an ornate gold coffee table, upon which rested a vase of fresh jeweled flowers emitting a fruity fragrance. A harp played by an invisible musician trilled softly in the corner.

I stared around in wonder as Angel and Iris led Stardust and me from the parlor into the corridor, where a potted magnolia tree’s pink-laced branches stretched along the wall and twisted around the door frames like ivy. They paused at the furthest door and opened it, gesturing for me to enter. “Autumn’s old room.”

My hair tangled in one of the branches framing the doorway as I stepped inside. The room’s style fit the name of its previous occupant. I felt I’d stepped into a garden. Ivy crawled up the walls and wisteria hung from the ceiling, an effect that was truly enchanting. A giant sunflower formed a tidy desk, its leaves twisting into a seat, and other flowers laced together to form bookshelves and other furniture. The carpet was a lush grassy green, and the walls featured a mural of an enchanting garden straight out of a fairy tale—heart-shaped blossoms in soft hues of lilac and peach, which I stared at breathlessly for several minutes.

“Autumn was a Cultivator like me, so our rooms match,” Iris said. “Though she moved out several years ago, we’ve never gotten around to redecorating it. You’re free to redecorate it in your own style.”

I shook my head. It was perfect the way it was.

We all settled in the cozy daisy armchairs to discuss the plans for my training, but Angel and Iris quickly grew distracted as they discussed the Weavings they’d done while I was with the Council.

“How did yours go?” Iris asked Angel.

She slammed her hands against her armrests. “Awful. I slaved away recreating a dream that creamed Blaze a few nights ago, but tonight he managed to beat it with a nightmare he claims was about a forest coming alive and wreaking havoc on the village and my Mortal’s family. How could such a ridiculous nightmare trump a dream about true love?”

“Mortals don’t like recurring dreams; they make them nervous,” Iris said. “That’s one of the first lessons taught in basic weaving.”

“But this was a love dream,” Angel said, as if that fact alone excused any reason for its failure. “Alice and Mason need to get together; they’re perfect for one another.”

“We’re not to interfere with the affairs of Mortals,” Iris said sharply. “Even though we’re both only on our first Mortal, you should know better than that.”

Angel slouched in her seat. “I’m not influencing Alice, I’m merely encouraging emotions she already feels. I even selected my details from white carnations and red chrysanthemums, flowers that symbolize romance, to increase the likelihood of Alice experiencing the emotion of love within her dream. It took me forever to find them all, but even after all that effort I still lost to one of the Universe’s laziest Weavers.”

“Flower symbolism techniques merely strengthen a Weaving, but a well-crafted dream doesn’t guarantee a win if your opponent’s is stronger,” Iris said. “Blaze is obviously aware of your Mortal’s fears and played off them. The fear of loss can be just as powerful as love.”

“His Pair must have given him the idea; Blaze isn’t creative enough to come up with that on his own.” Angel sank further in her chair, muttering something under her breath, the only discernible phrase being “…probably cheated.”

Iris worried her lip. “Did you lose any dust today?”

At the mention of the recent theft, Stardust immediately perked up and morphed into her notebook, poised to take notes.

Angel shook her head. “It only happens when I beat Blaze. I suppose he’s not motivated to steal when he manages to pull off one of his rare wins.”

“There’s no proof Blaze is the one who stole your dream dust—”

Angel punched the pillow she rested against. “Well, some Nightmare did. Only dark magic can steal dust from a dream locket, and he’s the only Nightmare I have the misfortune to interact with. Who else could it possibly be?”

Iris didn’t seem inclined to answer her. “I lost, too, though I shouldn’t complain as tonight wasn’t my best effort—I spent more time Cultivating than planning my dream, and then I rushed my Weaving so I could wait for Eden to emerge from the Council. Besides, I’ve won several nights in a row. Shade put so much effort into her nightmare and was so pleased she won.”

Angel rolled her eyes. “You’re the only Dream Weaver I know who would feel even a sliver of sympathy for your Nightmare partner.”

Iris shrugged. “It seems right to behave civilly towards our Weaving partners. After all, we’re partnered with them for a Mortal’s entire life. You could at least make an effort with Blaze.”

“I’ll never get along with him—not now, not ever. Our partnership is merely one of endurance.”

Iris sighed and shook her head.

Their dizzying conversation washed over me in waves, making me more overwhelmed and panicked than ever. Iris noticed my widening eyes and patted my arm.