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

diagrams highlighting stitchery beyond anything I’d ever attempted. My heart sank. “Wow, this looks hard.”

“I told you this is beyond your current level. You shouldn’t go near books this advanced for several years, especially considering you haven’t won a single Weaving.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” I snapped Weaving Unbeatable Dreams shut and yanked Eliminating Holes in Your Weaving from the shelf, hoping this book would prove more helpful, but it too presented techniques far beyond my current skill level.

Stardust shoved a moonbit in her mouth; the treat caused her face to shine silvery gold, which cast a shimmer across the pages as she peered over my shoulder. “You’re going to need a lot more practice.”

“There must be more to Weaving than just stitch work.”

I flipped through the pages, pausing occasionally to skim, while Stardust, morphed back in her notebook, munched on moonbits and blabbed about the mysteries she was currently investigating. I tuned her out until she began speaking of my own. I paused in perusing Painting with a Palette of Details to listen.

“I didn’t even know Half-Dreamers existed. The research I’ve already conducted shows it’s never occurred before. It certainly is perplexing…”

She paused to flip through her case notes, muttering to herself, already moving on to another investigation before I could glean any useful information. Her eyes narrowed at a particular page in her notebook.

“Hmm, that’s quite the puzzle. I’m not sure whether the Dream Council is aware of this unusual occurrence yet—they would be if I were the first cloud on the Investigations Team, but they haven’t allowed that yet.” She fell silent.

I tried to return to my own search before curiosity compelled me to lower my book. “Which unusual occurrence are you referring to?” Had she perhaps discovered more about my powers than she’d previously revealed?

“I noticed something as I took a shortcut through the Cultivating Fields on my way to borrow your weaving file. Only those with impeccable observational skills such as myself would have noticed the single lone nightmare flower growing midst the dream blossoms—”

My stomach jolted and I nearly dropped the second book I’d just pulled from the shelves. “You saw a nightmare flower in the Cultivating Fields?”

“Weren’t you listening?” she snapped. “Of course I noticed something so unusual; I’m a trained detective. With the dream dust thefts and the other recent evidence of the balance potentially tipping, I’ve heard the Council is starting to worry.”

My mind spun. “But how is that possible? Iris says only dream flowers can grow in Dream Realm soil. Are you sure it was a nightmare flower?”

But Stardust had stopped talking and was now frowning at Seamless Weaving Details opened in my lap. “Another book beyond your current skill level. Since you obviously don’t need my help, I’m not going to waste any more time; I have cases to investigate.”

It was probably for the best. With her gone, I could avoid her running commentary and read in peace. “If you have time, could you look into something for me?”

She paused, her eyes alight with curiosity. For a moment I hesitated. While it was unlikely I could find information about my mysterious father…

I stepped closer and lowered my voice. “I’ve been thinking about how it could be possible for me to be Half-Mortal when Mortals can’t see Dreamers. I wondered if learning more about Mother’s powers could offer a possible explanation, both in where I came from…and my own powers. Can you find any information about the Weaver who disappeared?”

She frowned. “I’ve admittedly not found much during my previous investigations, but I’ll look again; there’s a section in the library on past cases I haven’t spent much time in that I can search.” She flew away, leaving me to study in silence.

I spent the next several minutes gathering a stack of books. Though I was reluctant to admit it, it was probably good I’d finally visited the library considering I’d lost every Weaving. If I didn’t do something soon, my powers would weaken so much I’d be forced to weave lower quality dreams, making it impossible to prove I was a capable Dreamer who deserved residence in this world.

A familiar prickling sensation poked the back of my neck; someone was watching me. I paused in pulling out Never Lose Another Weaving and looked around, almost expecting Darius, but he and his spider were nowhere to be seen.

I tentatively peered through the shelves, only to find two pairs of bright amber eyes staring back at me. I gasped and stumbled backwards into one of the stacks, causing my books to tumble to the ground. The eyes flashed and disappeared, and a moment later two figures emerged. My heart jolted. Nightmares.

The Nightmare man was tall and muscular, clad in an ebony outfit embedded with golden lightning, with bolts painted around his hard eyes and his black hair streaked with orange. There was something familiar about his eyes and the line of his jaw, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. The Nightmare woman wore a tight black dress that glistened with a fire motif, with additional flames painted across her face and streaked through her shoulder-length hair. Though both looked eternally young like all the Weavers I’d encountered, there was an air about them that made them seem much older than me and my friends.

Both stared at me, their unblinking eyes narrowed in the thinnest of slits. The woman’s look was especially concentrated and piercing, as if her gaze was slithering through my soul in search of clues to an unspoken mystery. A dark, unsettling feeling trickled over me, similar to the icy fear that I’d received during Darius’s nightmare. Surely it was dangerous to be alone with Nightmares other than one’s weaving partner. I looked around desperately for anyone. Usually several Dreamers wandered the rows or planned weavings curled up on cushy crescent-moon-shaped chairs, but the rows were abandoned, leaving no witnesses should these Nightmares do anything sinister.

“Who are you?” the man demanded. I recoiled at his menacing tone.

“I should be asking you that,”