"Sometimes, the answers you seek can only make the questions worse."
Notty gripped the reins of her horse as the dense forest swallowed her whole, its canopy blotting out the weak morning light. The air was damp, heavy with the scent of moss and earth, and every rustle of leaves seemed to carry a sinister weight. She hadn't wanted to come—she hadn’t—but after the previous night’s dream and the living thread twisting in her room, she had no choice. Whatever was happening to her wasn’t going to stop on its own.
“Are you sure about this?” Ludikrousz’s voice broke through the silence, his tone tinged with skepticism. He rode beside her, his usual smug appearance subdued for once.
“No,” she replied honestly, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “But what else can I do? Sit in my studio and wait for my creations to walk or do something?”
His lips quirked up in a half-smile. “It’d make for an interesting headline.”
Notty shot him a look, but her heart wasn’t in it. “This isn’t a joke, Ludikrousz. I need answers.”
“And you think this tailor—what was his name? Thaddus?—has them?”
“He’s the only lead I have,” she said, her voice firm despite the knot in her stomach. “He has spent his life studying magical textiles and ancient enchantments. If anyone knows what’s going on, it’s him.”
Ludikrousz sighed, leaning back slightly in his saddle. “Fine. But if this turns out to be a wild goose chase, I reserve the right to say, ‘I told you so.’”
Notty didn’t bother replying. She focused instead on the narrow trail ahead, which seemed to grow darker and more foreboding with every step. The tailor’s workshop appeared suddenly, as if conjured from the shadows themselves. A crooked little building with a sagging roof, it sat nestled among the trees like it had grown there, its wooden walls covered in creeping ivy. A faint light flickered in one of the windows, and smoke curled lazily from the chimney, promising warmth despite the eerie surroundings.
“This is cozy,” Ludikrousz remarked, dismounting and tying his horse to a nearby tree.
“Stay here,” Notty said, sliding down from her horse.
Ludikrousz frowned. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” she said, already making her way toward the door. “I don’t need you barging in and making snarky comments while I’m trying to get real information.”
“You wounded me,” he called after her, but he didn’t follow.
Notty took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The sound echoed dully, swallowed by the forest. A moment later, it creaked open, revealing an old man with wild gray hair and a pair of spectacles perched precariously on his nose. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over her, taking in every detail.
“Notty,” he said, his voice rough but not unkind. “You look just like your mother.”
The words hit her like a punch to the gut. “Do you knew her?”
He nodded, stepping aside to let her in. “Come. We have much to discuss.”
The inside of the workshop was a chaotic wonderland of fabrics and threads, rolls of cloth stacked haphazardly on shelves, and enchanted needles flitting about like tiny birds. The air shimmered faintly with magic, and Notty felt a strange sense of both familiarity and unease.
“You’re a Dreamweaver,” Thaddeus said, his back to her as he rummaged through a chest.
“How do you know?” she asked, though the answer seemed obvious in this place.
“I’ve known since you were a child,” he replied, pulling out a tattered book. “Your mother was one too, though she tried to hide it. Thought she could live a normal life if she suppressed it. But magic like that… it doesn’t stay hidden for long.”
Notty felt her chest tighten. Her mother had died when she was young, leaving behind little more than whispers of a past that no one ever talked about.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Thaddus turned to her, his expression softened by something close to pity. “She was trying to protect you. Dreamweaving is a gift, but it’s also a curse... especially now.”
“Now?”
He opened the book, flipping through pages filled with intricate drawings of fabrics, symbols, and strange creatures. “Something is waking, Notty. Something old and dangerous. Your magic is tied to it, whether you like it or not.”
The words sent a chill down her spine. “What do you mean? What’s waking?”
He hesitated, his fingers brushing over a particular page. “There’s a story. A legend, really, about an entity that feeds on dreams. It uses Dreamweavers like you to manifest in the waking world, twisting their creations into its own image.”
Notty’s heart sank. The floating gown, the living thread—it all made a horrifying kind of sense.
“What can I do?” she asked, desperation creeping into her voice.
Thaddeus closed the book and met her gaze. “You need to learn to control your magic before it controls you. And you need to find the source of this curse before it’s too late.”
Her hands clenched into fists. “And if I can’t?”
He didn’t answer, but the look in his eyes was enough.
As she stepped out of the workshop, the cool air hit her like a slap. Ludikrousz was leaning against a tree, his expression bored until he saw her face.
“What happened?” he asked, straightening.
Notty shook her head, her thoughts too jumbled to form a coherent answer. “Let’s just go.”
“Notty,” he pressed, his tone softer now. “What did he say?”
“Later,” she snapped, mounting her horse. “We need to—”
A crash from inside the workshop cut her off, followed by a guttural snarl that sent a wave of fear coursing through her.
“Thaddeus!” she cried, spinning around.
The door burst open, and Thaddeus stumbled out, his face pale and bloodied. Behind him, shadowy figures emerged, their forms shifting and indistinct, like smoke given life.
“Run!” he shouted, his voice hoarse. “Don’t let them catch you!”
Notty froze, her mind racing. Ludikrousz grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Notty, we have to go!”
“I can’t just leave him!” she protested, her heart pounding.
“We don’t have a choice!” he snapped, dragging her toward the horses.
The shadowy figures moved with unnatural speed, their shapes blurring as they lunged for Thaddeus. He raised his hands, muttering an incantation that sent a burst of light through the air, but it only slowed them for a moment. Notty’s chest ached as she watched him fight, her instincts screaming at her to help, but Ludikrousz was already lifting her onto her horse.
“We’ll come back,” he promised, his voice urgent. “But if we stay now, we’ll die here too.”
"Don't..."
With a final, reluctant glance at the workshop, Notty dug her heels into the horse’s sides, and they bolted into the forest.