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

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped. “You need to wait until I’m done. I deserve a chance after all my hard work.”

He heaved another frustrated sigh but surprisingly obeyed.

It took me several more minutes to fix my dream. Stardust kept muttering distracting advice under her breath and I had to frequently consult Weaving for Wusses, but I eventually completed the dream.

“You can look now.” I cut my thread and held up my dream. It was rougher than some of my practice quilts, but there weren’t any gaps, and with the variety of flowers, the dream looked quite impressive.

Darius stared at it. My cheeks warmed.

“Is it terrible?” For some inexplicable reason I wanted his approval.

“No.” His voice was actually rather gentle. “It’s actually not bad, despite it being too complex for a newborn. I admit I’m quite surprised.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“I said it wasn’t bad, but you have the potential for more; I wish you’d accepted my help.” He flexed his fingers. “Time to witness a real Weaver at work.”

He pulled out a long, black needle and glistening green thread, the same he’d used to weave my nightmare nearly a month ago. He paused in threading it when he noticed me staring. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” I hastily tore my gaze away. The last thing I wanted to do was bring up the memory of my nightmare with him.

Darius leisurely took out two black flowers, whose auras were too shadowy for me to discern, and grinned slyly at me. “You don’t have to wait for me; go ahead and give your dream to Maci.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re being strangely friendly.” A bit too friendly.

“I’m feeling generous,” he said. “Not to worry; despite my charity, tonight's Weaving won't even be a contest.”

We would see. His two flowers wouldn’t be a match for my detailed dream, whose idea I’d borrowed from my notebooks; if it was strong enough to win a Weaving before, it could win tonight.

I clutched the rocking chair next to Maci’s cradle to maintain my precarious balance in the air. As I draped my dream over her, I couldn’t help noticing Darius’s rapid weaving and tight, precise stitches until I became distracted by something bouncing in my peripheral vision—a glowing yellow orb had appeared directly above Maci, lighting up the room like a miniature sun. One quick glance at Darius and Bolt confirmed I was the only one who could see it. I quickly averted my gaze; it would be disastrous if I viewed the dream in front of a Nightmare who already found me suspicious.

Darius glanced up, brows furrowed. “Aren’t you going to watch your dream?”

As I hastily searched my bag for my weaving mirror, the dream tauntingly floated closer, beckoning me to sneak a peek. This one was the first dream I’d created on my own. It wouldn’t hurt to sneak just a quick glimpse…

Sensing my intention, Stardust’s frothy body tickled my ear. “Don’t you dare, not with the Nightmare watching.”

She was right, but I didn’t care. Before my sense could convince me otherwise, I tumbled into the dream.

I lay in a meadow scattered with a few faded wildflowers, whose shapes were so indiscernible they were mere swirls of blotched-out color. The sunless, washed-out sky was broken up by tiny pockets of nothing, made by holes I’d failed to notice in my dream quilt. Several details weren’t properly attached to their object; one of the flowers, which was supposed to be magenta, was colorless, leaving a random splotch of pink splashed in the air beside it.

For a moment nothing happened, then suddenly butterflies appeared where the flowers had been, the transformation so jagged even I, the creator, was caught off guard. They stood completely still in the air, their wings unbeating, and it took a moment before embarrassed realization pierced my confusion—I’d forgotten to weave movement into them.

Of all the stupid mistakes…this dream was so unlike the one I’d copied it from that it was a borderline nightmare. Thank heavens no one could see this disaster except for me…and Maci, of course.

After a moment of dull stagnancy, the dream subtly changed. First the colors faded, then the shapes of the butterflies and surrounding meadow faded, leaving nothing but murky grey sky. Even that melted away until nothing but blackness surrounded me. What was happening?

Then I felt it: an unsettling coldness curled around me, beginning in my toes and sliding up my body like I was being immersed in ice. I tried to rub warmth into my arms but I couldn’t move. The cold seeped deeper until it smothered every other thought. Warmth, I needed warmth. I yearned for arms to enfold me, for a warm body to cradle against, but it remained unquenched. The dark coldness extended on and on, and just when it became so unbearable I was certain I would drown in it, I jolted from the dream.

I blinked, nearly blinded by the moonlight filling Maci’s room; the warmth from the dying fire was staggering after such horrible coldness.

Maci whimpered awake. Her whines turned into cries, which summoned her mother. I retreated into the ceiling’s shadows so her mother wouldn’t notice me as she cooed soothingly, picked Maci up, and carried her from the room.

Dream dust swirled and gathered in Darius’s locket, where it transformed from clear to olive green, marking his ownership. I braced myself for a celebration, but instead he glanced sideways with an unreadable expression. “You went into a trance, similar to what I witnessed you doing on Earth.”

What was he talking about? Then it hit me—my own dream disappearing into that dark coldness, Darius winning the dream dust…I’d just witnessed Darius’s nightmare.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Darius asked. “And don’t bother lying and saying nothing happened.”

I wrapped my arms around myself in an attempt to shake off the frigid traces still cloaking me from Darius’s nightmare. How could something so simple be so haunting?

Darius frowned before his accusatory expression slowly left, replaced with