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22. Dreaming
🕑 Added 2023-12-22 15:00:05 +0000 UTCTossing the pill bottle in one hand, Oz ascended out of the basement, lost in thought. The crest rolled shut as he stepped out of the secret basement. He caught the bottle and spun it around, then looked at it. The pink and purple pills stared back at him, shiny as candy.
Take them, or don’t? Turn down the opportunity for safety, or take the chance and find out what’s on the other side?
His hand tightened around the pills. I can’t avoid risk forever. It’s as Fenrir said. Sachairi has only helped me so far. I’m in the library, as safe as I can be. Now is the time.
Besides, who knows? Maybe it’ll help me open another meridian, or assist me otherwise with stepping into magehood. I need to get stronger, fast. That’s one thing I’m very clear on, and the party only made it clearer.
He strode back toward the dormitory, mind made up. Sid jogged alongside, occasionally pausing to look up at him and wait for him to catch up.
The dormitory laid empty, spic and span, the doors to the rooms all shut, and no tide of bugs washing over the floors and walls. No bug bodies piled on the floor, either. Oz let out a sigh of relief. I’m so glad to not find more bugs in my library. Linnea and Roan did a good job cleaning up.
Down at the far end of the dormitory, he plopped down on his bed. He tipped a pill out into his palm and took a deep breath. Okay. Here goes. No turning back.
Sid hopped up directly onto his stomach, all for legs outstretched. Even as he jerked in pain, she sat down, curling up in the hollow of his ribs.
“Ow,” Oz muttered, adjusting slightly under the cat. Four-pronged leg attack, not great.
Purring, Sid settled in, making biscuits on his belly.
Too cute. “You watch me. Wake me up if things go bad.”
Sid continued purring, giving no sign she’d heard.
He held up the pill, twisting it between his fingers. The surface gleamed. Pink swirled into purple, the shapes almost moving under the sheen of the pill.
All at once, he gulped down the pill. A sweet bitterness swirled on his tongue, like tart cherry. Oz smacked his lips. Not bad. I’ve only had two pills so far, but those are the clear winner between the two.
He clasped his hands over his chest and waited. What now? Should I go to sleep? “What do you think, Sid?”
Sid looked up, her tongue still sticking out, her rear leg fully extended. Dismissing him, she went back to cleaning herself.
“Good talk, good talk,” Oz muttered. He tapped his fingers against one another and smacked his lips again, tasting the aftertaste on his tongue. Were those just candy? Was this whole thing a prank? I don’t…
…don’t…
…
“Ossian!”
Smiling faces surrounded him, staring down at him, eyes bright with viciousness. Faces without faces, featureless faces that belonged to no one and everyone, the boys’ bodies nondescript and perfectly descript. He cowered, clutching a book to his chest, and tried to push through. The mob of boys closed ranks, refusing to let him pass. He backed against the wall, looking around for anyone, anything.
Nothing. Other disciples hurried by, glancing over, then away. Glad they weren’t him. Too busy to intervene. Totally oblivious.
“Ossiaaaaan. Still trying? Still stuck in Qi Gathering? What a loser. Give up. Go home to your mommy!”
An enormous shadow loomed. Ossian flinched back, hunching into himself as if he could disappear. A monstrous claw gripped his shoulder and pinned him to the wall. “Why can’t you do it? Why can’t you absorb qi, huh?”
“I… I can’t see it,” Ossian mumbled.
“Can’t see it! Like a mortal,” the shadow beast growled. It lifted its hand. Ossian looked up, startled. He struggled against the beast’s hand, but it held him tight, firm as steel. Raising his hands, he shoved at the arm.
The beast laughed. Lifting him bodily away from the wall, it slammed his back into it. The back of his head cracked against the wall, loud in his ears. Stunned, Ossian went still.
A hand. Curled into a claw. Held over his eye.
No, no, no, fight, fight, please fight, please—
“If you can’t see qi, you don’t need these eyes, do you?”
Let go let go let go
The hand struck home. Pain slammed into his head. Hot blood rushed down his cheek. A tug, deep, visceral. He screamed, scrabbling against the beast blindly, fighting like a cornered rat. Not enough. Not enough.
The beast tossed the eye in one hand. It laughed. “I’ve done you a favor.”
“Give it—give it back.”
“This?” The beast’s hand closed.
Pop.
Thick white liquid oozed between the beast’s fingers. He dropped the disformed lump to the floor.
Laughter. All around. Laughter. Shapeless being laughing, shadows, smears of light for eyes. And the beast. The beast, in red, wiping Ossian’s own blood on his shirt. Ossian sobbed, gulping back tears and snot, and they laughed, they all laughed.
“What’s going on? Baltair! You—get away! Ossian! Come here—”
An angel. Blindingly bright. Ossian gazed up at the blonde, her curly hair floating on the wind, turned to gold by the sun.
“Fian,” Ossian whispered, worshipful.
She embraced him, and the pain vanished, just for a moment. “Ossian, Ossian, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The world flickered. He dropped out, and came to for a moment in Fian’s arms. She carried him, running. He touched his shirt. His hand came away red.
What’s going on? I… was this…
“Stay with me, Ossian. We’re almost there.”
He looked up at Fian, barely awake. He nodded.
Listen.
Who are you?
I don’t have long. Please—
The lobby stretched around him, broad and beautiful. He registered that, in a floaty kind of way, only half-tethered to the plane of the living. “Madame Saorise!”
From out of the sun, the Librarian descended, her hair in the usual strict bun, her eyes sharp behind her half-moons. At the sight of Oz, she frowned, just slightly. She flicked her gaze to Fian. “Who did this?”
Oz? No. Ossian… Ossian. Not Oz.
Oz. Is that what you’re called?
I—
“Hold him down!”
He struggled, fighting. Fian looked down at him, her face twisted on the verge of tears. She pushed him back to the desk. “Ossian, please.”
“What’s happening? What’s going on?”
“Hold him still. I’m almost ready,” Madame Saoirse ordered, fiddling with something out of sight.
…have to. Please. She…
I can’t hear you. Who are you? Ossian?
Piercing, blinding pain. He screamed. Hands pushed him down, forcing him back. Acid. Pure acid, dripping into his raw eye socket.
“And there we have it. Good as new.” Prim and proper, Madame Saoirse marched off, her heels clacking through the library. When she spoke again, her words carried weight and glowed with a power Ossian had rarely seen. “Expel Baltair.”
A scream. A thump. Baltair scrabbled at the door, begging to be let back in, demanding answers. Lying on the desk, half-conscious, drenched in his own blood, Ossian let exhaustion drag him down.
Mother, help.
Oz jolted awake with a gasp, propelled bolt upright in bed. Sid yowled in fright as he sent her flying. Startled out of his initial shock, Oz reached out to pet the cat, but Sid fled his hand. “Sorry! I’m sorry,” he called after her.
Looking at him disdainfully over her shoulder, she swished her tail and left.
A spark of pain jolted behind his left eye, a phantom of the pain he’d felt in the dream. He put a hand to it, flinching at the memory. No wonder Ossian had a thing about his eye. Ow.
Holy shit, though! For real! That goes beyond simple neglect into outright criminal gross negligence. Madame Saoirse had lots of disciples, but to let a bullying situation grow to the point where people are plucking out other peoples’ eyes? Even in a dog-eat-dog world, that’s unreasonable.
Though on the other hand, it is a dog-eat-dog world. Rather than seeing bullying as an inherent evil, they probably see it as a way to force people to grow. Maybe Madame Saoirse left it be, not understanding how horrible a situation Ossian was in, and had no expectation that Baltair would suddenly go eyeball-crazy. I mean, to be fair to her, who expects a kid to pluck out another kid’s eye? Kids are insane little monsters, yes, but that takes a special kind of kid.
And now Baltair’s part of a nearly-dark-magic clan. Not too much of a surprise there.
Yeah… I think I’ll go with that explanation, until I understand more about the situation. Sects are “18th century boarding school” at best, with all the horrors and mismanagement that come with it. Given that the Masters of the sects are also focused on getting stronger themselves, with raising disciples as secondary, it’s no surprise that some bullying went under the radar. There was probably a long, slow progression of abuse directed at Ossian, from name calling, to physical attacks, to group beatings, to whatever leads up to eyeball plucking, that I’m simply not seeing right now.
Ossian was the quiet type, so predisposed not to report anything. Plus, if the abuse escalated to eyeball plucking, I’m sure he wasn’t the only one being bullied. And if he’s not the only one being bullied, any favorable treatment from Madame Saoirse would’ve not only made him a bigger target, but also set him apart from the other bullied kids, leaving him with absolutely no allies… and thus, even less likely to be willing to speak up.
Doesn’t make it okay—doesn’t make any of this okay, but it does make Madame Saoirse’s seeming soft spot for Ossian make sense, juxtaposed with Baltair’s apparently unchecked abuse.
Fuck Baltair, though. He rubbed his eye, wincing at the memory. Seriously. Someone needs to put a stop to that monster.
Wait. What about the other boys? The ones whose faces I couldn’t make out? Were they even real, or just part of the nightmare?
That’s the real problem with dreaming Ossian’s memories. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s just a dream.
Okay, that, and the eye-gouging thing. Ow.
Fian… where is she? That girl who rescued me. Was she part of the dream, too? I saw her face clearly, though. If she cared about me… about Ossian, why hasn’t she come to visit the library?
I don’t know anything about her. I barely know anything about Ossian.
Speaking of, how did I dream Ossian’s memories? The pills? Even so, those are someone else’s memories. How did they end up in my head?
He let out a long breath, just sitting there staring at the wall, his whole body dead. Dreaming, huh? I’d rather not have dreamed that one. So much for “something good might happen.”
But on the other hand, I now know more about Ossian. If I need to, I’ll be better at playing the part. I—
Oz frowned. He stared at his sheets. I feel like I’m forgetting something. Like a dream, the thought slipped from his mind, quickly vanishing as he woke. Only the niggling feeling that it was important remained, the intense surety that if he forgot it, he’d be losing something essential. He grasped at its tail, desperate, but like sand through his fingers, the harder he clenched, the faster it fell.
His brows furrowed. He stared at the bed. Something about Ossian… something…
He shook his head. No, I’ve forgotten. “Dammit.”
For a few moments, he sat there in bed. Abruptly, he threw the covers off and climbed to his feet. No way I’m getting back to sleep after that. Might as well start my day.
Pulling on his robes as he went, he hurried back to the library proper, already reading a book in the back of his mind.
Fuck, did Ossian have a shitty life, though.
I’ll make it better. He put his trust in me. I’m going to live up to that.
No matter what.
