Sebastien
Month 9, Day 12, Sunday
The process of sewing her mind back together was painful, precarious, and exhausting. Once Sebastien had started, the smooth edges of the memetic wound in her mind were left frayed. They would further unravel and cause more damage if not tended to immediately, so she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t sure how long it took.
The other half of her Will had retained a ghostly version of her original memories, but they were damaged and confused. She couldn’t simply use them to replace what Thaddeus had built. But she also found strange, echo-like, almost imperceptible remnants of the original memories hiding on what was somehow a lower level than the false ones. She latched on to those echoes, reinforced them with the part of her Will that mostly remembered, and tore apart the pieces of memory usurping their place. In this way, she built herself back together from the roots up. The real memories fit with the echoes in a way that the false ones didn’t, though she imagined if she had let the false ones sit there long enough, perhaps the echoes would have changed to match them.
As necessary as this work was, her body seemed to find it unnatural—or perhaps it simply couldn’t stand the pain. When the sleeper raven bound to Sebastien died, she almost went with it.
She broke into a high fever, which was more frustrating than anything, as it slowed and muddled her thoughts and made the whole process at least three times more difficult. She recognized the distinct smell and taste of fever-reducers, but whatever their magic was targeting, her fever came from a different source and was unaffected.
Without the other potion they kept feeding her that seemed to fill her mind with a thick, cushioning syrup, her mistakes might have ended her. That potion made the work harder, too, but it also gave her leeway. When she lost her grip, it slowed the destructive, whip-like lashing of the threads. When she made a mistake, it partially isolated the wound and dampened the metaphorical bleeding.
At times, the mind-healer supported her work, easing the pain and doing some kind of magic to hold things in place for her so that she could work more efficiently. But the woman, glimpsed only in fractured moments when Sebastien managed to open her eyes, was only able to cast this wondrous magic for six to ten hours every day, spread out over several shorter sessions.
Sebastien would have failed—not for lack of desire, or lack of Will, but for the sheer scope of the insurmountable wound—if not for a monumental revelation.
Her Will, without very much scope or power, but undeniable. A third facet of herself. Another split. When this had happened, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t give her any extra power to work with, as no matter how many parts her Will could split into, she was still limited to less than a thousand thaums. But she didn’t need power. She needed finesse.
And this was, in effect, a third pair of hands with which to weave.
And so she lived.
When she finished, she fell into a deep sleep. And for the first time since she was a small child, when she dreamed, those dreams were mundane. She had trained herself to realize their approach so that she could wake on command, but she almost didn’t recognize what was happening, because they weren’t nightmares. Nor were they memories. And nowhere was the touch of the thing sealed in her mind. It wasn’t until the fever ran its course that the hints of nightmare began to creep back in. When they did, she was too weak to fight against them, but she did not meet the creature with the glowing amber eyes. It was mostly incomprehensible: eggs cracking to reveal yolks of crimson blood, twisted brimstone limbs, and a doorway leading to a hungry sky.
She slept until the wounds in her mind began to heal. Unfortunately, her head was still throbbing when she jerked to wakefulness, and she felt somehow both ravenous and nauseated at the same time. She croaked for water, and Natalia hurried to help her sit up and drink.
Nat looked tired and her eyes were a little bloodshot, but she smiled widely at Sebastien and immediately launched into an update on everything that had happened while she had been unaware. She acted as if Sebastien had simply been on a trip or taking an extended nap, rather than fighting for her life. “And this,” she said, holding up a key ring from which a rabbit-shaped bauble hung. “It’s super cute, but actually it’s loaded with seven super-powerful rending spells, guaranteed to overpower the inherent barrier of the skin as long as you can open up a cut. It works by creating several closely scattered areas of extreme, localized gravity.” She leaned forward to whisper. “Ana bought it at the Night Market. You just grab it and punch the ears into whoever you want to kill,” Nat said, demonstrating with a shadow-punch into the air.
Sebastien belatedly wondered if she was still dreaming. But no, this was reality. Searᴄh the NovelZone.fun website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
“I’m sure you know that’s illegal, but since whoever attacked you is a criminal, too, I think it’s fine. Just don’t get caught,” Nat said seriously, placing the key ring on the small table beside Sebastien’s narrow bed. “Ana couldn’t get a license for it, even with some bribes.”
Somehow, Sebastien found this bizarre interaction comforting. Nat was a lot like her older sister. Sebastien found spending time with them comfortable because they somehow always knew what to say. Or, perhaps, what not to say. Tears, frantic questions, and admonitions to be safe would have just made Sebastien feel worse right now.
“I’ll go get Deidre, Damien, and the others,” Nat said. “They’ll all be ecstatic that you’re awake. Damien stayed awake for almost three days until someone cast a sleep jinx on him, and now he’s been asleep so long that me and some of the others started betting if he would wet the bed. I bought you some cream-filled pastries that are super delicious, but we have to ask the healer before you can eat them.” Nat patted Sebastien’s arm sympathetically, then turned to leave.
“Wait.” When Nat paused, Sebastien adjusted her pillow to better support her back and said, “Bring a strong thaumaturge, too. I probably won’t be able to stay awake for very long, and I need a spell cast before I go back to sleep.”
The person they ended up getting to perform Sebastien’s signature dreamless sleep spell had a few thousand thaums under their belt, and though no one said anything, all the Undreaming Order members gave each other significant looks as Sebastien explained the magic.
Nat brought up the cream-filled pastries, and Sebastien almost cried while eating them, a sure sign that her Will-strain was quite severe. Nat puffed out her chest like a prideful rooster and promised sincerely to handle all of Sebastien’s dessert intake until she was better.
Damien gave his own significant looks to Sebastien, no doubt wanting to know what had happened, but had enough sense to keep silent when surrounded by outsiders. He didn’t manage to hold back his own tears completely, but at least he turned his back when they fell, so she didn’t have to watch and feel even worse about it.
She considered trying to make a joke to lighten the mood, but humor had never been her strong suit. It wasn’t even as if she could assure him there was no need to worry. She was pretty sure that she had almost died. Without all the time spent casting the light-refinement spell and the third fracture in her Will, she probably would have.
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Sebastien ate and drank under the eager urging and too-friendly gazes of the Undreaming Order’s awakened, took a few potions to ease the pain and speed her recovery, and when she was alone, took some time to examine herself.
Her side, where the black sapphire Conduit had shattered, bore the faint lines of several jagged scars, but pressing on the skin caused no pain, assuring her that no pieces of the gem lingered inside.
She found them in her satchel, along with the clothes she had been wearing, her hidden holster, and her mother’s ring. The memories were less clear than usual, but she remembered finding a place to change and clean up, then going to her attic apartment to take her most important and valuable belongings. She had changed her plans and decided to leave via one of the white cliffs’ northern tunnels so that she could send a high-cost, discreet runner to Damien on the way, warning him as soon as possible. She hadn’t gotten that far. ‘I was running on the third Will, then,’ she realized. ‘But it was too weak to stay coherent?’ Normally, Sebastien would have been insatiably curious about this phenomenon, but at the moment she could only muster the energy for things that would keep her alive.
Checking her satchel, she found everything where she had put it. The warding medallion and transformation amulet were both still around her neck. ‘Thank you, Grandfather. You saved my life once again,’ she thought, rubbing the golden, engraved surface of the medallion. She stared at the place where one of the surface glyphs had completely melted. With a pang in her chest, she tucked the medallion away again. ‘Thank you,’ she repeated.
The knife in her boot was clean, as if Thaddeus’s blood had never touched it, and a quick test with the dowsing artifact proved that her divination-diverting ward was still working just fine.
She stared blankly at the wall of the metal room for a few moments, wondering if there was anything she was missing. She smacked her lips together, grimaced, then rubbed some tooth-cleaning paste in her mouth and went back to sleep for a few hours—this time without dreams.
When the nightmares began to slip through again, she awoke and felt for the vague edges of the seal, a black, blank space in the very, very back of her consciousness, a place she might never go if she didn’t have a reason to look. She wasn’t sure what she was trying to find, exactly, only that she was worried. ‘Are the dreams getting stronger, or am I just weak?’ She’d had trouble waking herself, almost as if the creature feeding her nightmares had wrapped its tendrils around her to hold her under the surface.
She opened her eyes to find Damien sitting beside her, squinting down at a horribly mutilated attempt at knitting, or perhaps crochet. Sebastien had never been able to tell the difference. They were alone.
“You have to destroy all of the research,” she said.
Damien jerked, and she realized he’d been on the verge of falling asleep.
She repeated herself. “No one can ever know what you found,” she told him, trying to drill the importance of this into him with the strength of her gaze alone. “No one. If you trust and care for that person, doubly so.”
He let out a low breath, just on the edge of a whistle, and set down his mangled yarn. “I was afraid that might be the case. It’s such a waste.”
“Our lives are more important.”
Damien nodded. “I’ll handle it, don’t worry.” He hesitated. “Who did this to you?”
Sebastien couldn’t tell him the truth. The knowledge might endanger him. She was so tired and weak. A strange urge to laugh filled her chest, almost overwhelming, but instead, tears burned and bubbled up from the back of her eye sockets. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t protect you from what I got you into. I can’t even protect myself.” When she closed her eyes, the tears slipped down her temples into her greasy, matted hair.
“Are you in danger right now?” Damien asked. “Is someone going to be looking for you, to hurt you?”
“No. At least as long as no one realizes what I know. What we know.”
Damien pressed his lips together grimly. “We are going to have to swear quite a lot of the Undreaming Order members to secrecy. And…actually, it’s possible that news of your injury will have already gotten out. Is that a problem?”
“It would be better if that didn’t happen.” It might make Thaddeus suspicious.
“Umm…don’t worry. I’ll talk to Ana about it, and we’ll handle it. You don’t need to worry, just rest.”
Strangely, Sebastien did feel somewhat reassured when she thought that Ana might handle it. She had seen the way Ana “handled” things at the University—that is, the few details of her machinations that Ana was blatant enough to explain to Sebastien directly. Keeping secrets and spreading false rumors was well within the other woman’s capabilities.
“Tell Deidre, too. She’ll help, I think.”
Damien returned with Deidre shortly after. The woman shut the metal door behind them. “Your friend told me a little about the situation. Do not worry, Mr. Siverling. Secrecy is the nature of those who strive to follow in the Raven Queen’s shadow. We have not been spreading news of your situation or even your presence, and we will cooperate with whatever story you wish to tell. However, I do have a question.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Do you have any idea why the Raven Queen isn’t responding? Was she involved in whatever…incident brought you here?”
Damien’s eyebrows rose.
‘Seriously? Weren’t you literally just bragging about being able to keep a secret, Deidre?’ Sebastien lamented silently. Aloud, she tried to keep her expression normal. “I have no idea. She didn’t do this to me, if that’s what you’re wondering. Is there some kind of emergency you need her help with?”
Deidre stared at him. “Well, I thought she might heal you.”
Sebastien blinked slowly at her. “Why?”
Deidre shifted awkwardly, looking between Damien and Sebastien. “Well, just…on a whim. She likes children.”
Sebastien gave a tired sigh and closed her eyes. “I haven’t been a child for a long time. And I need another dreamless sleep spell.”
The next time she woke, it was to Ana, who had moved the cold-air blowing artifact too close to Sebastien’s head, chilling her ears.
Ana left it there, sat down primly, and crossed her legs. “What have you gotten yourself involved in, Sebastien?” she asked matter-of-factly.
Sebastien sucked in a few deep breaths to try to clear the fog from her brain, then sat up and drank from the glass of water on the bedside table.
Perhaps Ana sensed that Sebastien was stalling for time to think of a good lie, so the other woman spoke before she could. “You and Damien are involved in some kind of secret project. Something that both of you feel is more important than school, despite your obsession with being the best. Something that involves sneaking out in the middle of the night and a serious amount of danger. Something that maybe involves gold, because I’ve noticed the way you no longer flinch when you need to pay a handful of silver for some food. I am very upset.”
Sebastien rubbed the crusted sleep from the corners of her eyes.
Ana took a deep breath. “Yes, I’m furious about you stupid boys putting yourselves in danger, getting into situations that you obviously can’t handle—don’t argue, the fact that you’re here, right now, like this, is evidence that you really can’t handle it.”
Sebastien met Ana’s blue-eyed, surprisingly chilling glare, then looked down at the thin sheet covering her legs like a chastened child.
Ana took a deep breath. “But what I’m most upset about is that you didn’t invite me. I kept waiting for one of you to mention something, but you never did.” She smacked a hand to her chest, her pitch rising with anger. “I pulled you two into my scheme to take down my uncles, but when you were the ones to get into something, you didn’t even tell me about it, let alone bring me onto the team!”
Sebastien opened her mouth, then closed it again. “Sorry?”
Ana glared at her. “Not good enough.”
“What we’re doing, it’s not whatever you think. It doesn’t…pay. It’s more like…homework projects for charity work? Not like the Undreaming Order’s charity work,” she hurried to clarify.
Ana rolled her eyes. “Your little secret involves the gaining of other types of power, right? Power that just happens to not be wealth.”
Sebastien couldn’t deny it, though she wasn’t sure that was exactly true in Damien’s case.
Ana nodded, as if Sebastien’s silence was answer enough. “Of course, you wouldn’t be interested in anything that didn’t involve gaining power. Well, I’m interested in other types of power, too, you dim-wit,” she snarled. “Even if it’s just connections with important people, some of whom happen to be my friends.” That last part was said in a smaller, more vulnerable tone.
Sebastien wasn’t sure if that was deliberate—a calculated manipulation. Nothing about Ana gave away a lie. Sebastien cupped her face in her palms, then tried to run her fingers through some of the tangles in her hair. ‘Do I have to run a fake organization for a second person now?’ Even the thought of it was exhausting.
“I know it’s not safe. I don’t care,” Ana said, as if anticipating Sebastien’s next argument. “If you thought it wasn’t worth it, you wouldn’t be doing it.”
“I have special circumstances,” Sebastien muttered. Ana opened her mouth to argue, but Sebastien held up a hand to cut her off. “Can we please talk about this when I’m feeling better? I just…can’t right now. I can’t.”
All the fight went out of Ana. She scooted her chair closer, leaned forward, and hugged Sebastien. “Okay,” she said softly.
“Thank you,” Sebastien whispered.
Ana just patted her back silently, then went to call the thaumaturge to re-cast Sebastien’s dreamless sleep spell, and after eating and drinking some more, Sebastien lay back down. As she was drifting off, she thought she heard Oliver’s voice, but by the time she woke again, there was no sign of him.