the Dream Maker
Oneira walked among them effortlessly. From dream to dream she moved, bare feet making no noise as she stepped from one shadow to the next, sliding through the hidden crevices between awake and asleep. The young boy whose room she entered whimpered in his sleep, tossing and turning beneath quilted blankets.
Golden hair, shimmering despite the lack of light, fell across the boy’s face as she bent to kiss his forehead.
“Sleep peacefully now, Jack. I’ve chased the demons away,” she whispered in his ear. The boy grew calm and smiled in his sleep, visions of fishing and camping with his oft absent father filling his mind. She withdrew from the boy’s side and turned to go, the fabric of her ivory gown flaring out behind her.
“You know, Oneira, that boy is going to grow up to kill many people one day,” a voice intoned from the shadows.
“The future is not carved in stone. You know that as well as I do, Efialtis,” Oneira said. “Trouble this boy no further. If he is to grow up to become a killer, do not hasten his demise.”
Efialtis stepped out of the dark corner to face his sister, but a pall seemed to cling to him still. His hair was as black as the deepest depths of the ocean and hung long and straight down his back. Pale skin accentuated the sharp lines of his face and made the contrast with his dark eyes all the more mesmerizing. Irises flashed to crimson as he directed a cruel smile down at her.
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