Dreams Lie Beneath

by Rebecca Ross

One does not realize how powerful a dream is, in the sleeping world as well as the waking one, until it has been stolen from them.

“You know, it’s not a bad thing to be fearful every now and then. The fear reminds you of limits, of what lines you should not cross. Of the doors you shouldn’t open.”

Those doors have not been open since, nor will they until the remaining wraiths—the heiress, the lady-in-waiting, the advisor, the guard, the master of coin, and the spymistress—all who once planned the duke’s demise, return as one to break the curse.”

Dreams often revealed one’s greatest vulnerability; dreams were doors that led into hearts and minds and souls and secrets.

I wanted to be unremarkable upon appearance. I wanted to be underestimated, overlooked, on the verge of being forgotten. I wanted a trustworthy face that inspired friendship, a face that could draw out a secret. A face that one would never assume hid something vengeful beneath it.

“It will make you colder. But even the deepest of ice eventually gives way to fire, Clementine.”

I had forgotten how vital it is to be known for who you are, and not for who you pretend to be. I had forgotten how good it is to be seen, even with flaws and scars. I wanted you to see me.

It seemed to take forever, but I suppose when you are waiting for something to happen, the minutes feel as long and heavy as years.

But sometimes things must break before they can be made whole again, so that they can be forged into something stronger.