"Sometimes, the truth feels closer in a dream than it does in reality—and that’s what makes it so terrifying."
Notty sat by the large bay window of her studio, the moonlight casting a silver sheen over the unfinished gowns scattered around her. She hadn’t slept since the masquerade ball. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the shadow’s gaze, the chill of its presence curling around her like a noose. She clenched her teacup, the porcelain warm against her trembling hands.
“We can’t ignore it anymore,” she said, her voice firm but laced with exhaustion.
Ludikrousz, lounging in one of her ornate chairs, twirled a silver pen between his fingers. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet since the ball, his sharp wit dulled by the weight of what they both now knew to be true. The curse was real, and it wasn’t going to stop. He studied her carefully, his dark eyes scanning the tension in her shoulders and the shadows under her eyes.
“I never said we should ignore it,” he replied, his voice low but steady. “But diving headfirst into the unknown isn’t exactly the safest plan either. Especially when we don’t know what this thing wants.”
Notty set her cup down with a sharp clink. “It wants me, Ludikrousz. And it’s not going to stop until it gets what it wants.” She paused, her gaze dropping to her hands. “But if I can understand it, maybe I can stop it.”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because unless you’ve got a direct line to the dream world, we’re at a bit of a disadvantage.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “There is one way.”
Ludikrousz raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “I’m listening.”
Notty hesitated, the words catching in her throat. She’d been thinking about it since the ball, since the shadow had slipped away and left her feeling both powerless and exposed. “Thaddus mentioned something before we left his workshop. He said that Dreamweavers can… enter their dreams consciously. Navigate them like a map.”
“Like lucid dreaming,” Ludikrousz said, the pen in his hand stilling.
“Exactly,” she said, her voice gaining confidence. “If I can do that, maybe I can find the source of the curse. Maybe I can confront it.”
His silence was heavy, and when he finally spoke, his tone was uncharacteristically serious. “You’re risking your life, Notty. We don’t know what’s waiting for you in there.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “But it’s a risk I have to take.”
Later that night, Ludikrousz sat by her bedside, the room dim except for the faint glow of enchanted orbs lining the walls. Notty lay under a quilt, her breathing steady as she prepared to step into the unknown.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said, his voice softer than usual.
She turned her head to look at him, her expression calm but resolute. “You can’t follow me into the dream world, Ludikrousz. This is something I have to do myself.”
He didn’t argue, but the worry in his eyes betrayed his thoughts. “Fine. But if you don’t come back, I’m going to be very cross with you.”
Despite herself, Notty smiled. “Duly noted.”
He reached out, his fingers brushing hers briefly before he stood. “Good luck, Dreamweaver.”
When Notty opened her eyes, she wasn’t in her room anymore. The world around her shimmered with an ethereal glow, a dreamscape woven together by threads of light and shadow. The ground beneath her feet felt like silk, shifting with every step, and the air was thick with the scent of lavender and something sharper—ozone, perhaps, or magic.
“This is… different,” she murmured, taking in the surreal landscape.
“Oh, it’s very different,” came a voice from behind her.
Notty whirled around to see a small figure perched on a floating spool of thread. It was barely the size of her hand, with wings that glimmered like stained glass and a mischievous grin that made her instantly wary. Its eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors, constantly shifting and impossible to pin down.
“And who are you?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“I’m Fibbi,” the creature said, bowing theatrically. “Your guide to all things dream-weavy and messy.”
Notty raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t ask for a guide.”
“You didn’t have to,” Fibbi replied, its wings fluttering as it hovered closer. “You Dreamweavers always attract the strangest company. Lucky for you, I’m one of the good ones.”
She wasn’t convinced but decided to play along. “Alright, Fibbie. Can you tell me what’s happening to me?”
“Oh, sweet Dreamweaver,” Fibbie said, spinning in the air. “It’s not what’s happening to you. It’s what’s been waiting for you.”
Notty frowned. “Waiting?”
“You’re cursed, yes? Tied to something nasty?” Fibbi’s tone turned serious, its colorful eyes narrowing. “That thing has been watching you since the day you were born. It’s been patient, biding its time. And now that you’ve started using your magic… well, let’s just say you’ve rung the dinner bell.”
Her stomach twisted. “What does it want?”
“Hard to say,” Fibbie replied, landing on her shoulder. “Could be your magic. Could be your dreams. Could be you. But whatever it is, it’s hungry... I just don't know if it's voracious...”
Notty’s hands clenched into fists. “Then how do I stop it?”
Fibbie tilted its head, its kaleidoscope eyes flickering. “That’s the tricky part. You can’t stop it… yet. First, you need to understand it. And to do that, you’ll need to find the threads that connect you to it.”
“And where do I find those threads?” she asked, her voice tight.
Fibbie grinned. “Follow the whispers.”
Before she could question further, a soft, melodic humming filled the air. It was faint, almost like the rustling of leaves, but it seemed to come from everywhere at once.
“That’s your cue, Dreamweaver,” Fibbie said, taking off into the air. “Follow the sound, but be careful. Not everything in this world wants to help you.”
Notty nodded, her resolve hardening. “Thanks, Fibbie. I know that.”
The creature saluted her before vanishing into the shimmering landscape, leaving her alone with the whispers. She followed the sound, her steps light and cautious as the dreamscape shifted around her. The whispers grew louder, leading her to a shimmering thread that stretched endlessly into the distance.
As she reached out to touch it, a new voice rang out, sharp and urgent. “Don’t.”
Notty froze, turning to see another figure standing a few paces away. It was taller than Fibbie, human-like but translucent, as though made of light. Its features were sharp and angular, and its eyes burned with an intensity that made her shiver.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the fear creeping in.
“I’m a hint,” the figure said simply. “And you need to wake up. Now.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded. “I came here for answers.”
“And if you stay, you’ll get none,” the figure said, its tone grave. “This world isn’t safe for you, Dreamweaver. Not yet. If you linger too long, you’ll give it what it wants.”
“What does it want?” she asked again, desperation leaking into her voice.
The figure didn’t answer. Instead, it stepped closer, its translucent form flickering. “Your next dream could be your last. Wake up before it’s too late.”
"But... where would I go?" Notty was puzzled and lost in thought.