Aster watched his own death for what felt like the hundredth time.
He didn’t feel much of anything as he watched himself bleed out on the floor of a once comforting room. Nothing except for frustration. He looked up at the blurred shadows that made up the vague form of his killer and wondered just how much longer it would take for him to catch a glimpse of them. Surely, they wouldn’t be able to keep themselves hidden forever.
He certainly hoped not.
Already, Aster couldn’t tell just how long he’d spent in the dream, replaying it over and over and hoping to find a single clue as to what was to come. During this time, he was only vaguely aware of the passage of time—or, at least, that a fair amount of it had to have passed, given how many times he’d replayed the dream.
He sighed as, once again, he found himself in the ruins of the city he called home. The same people wandered around with panicked faces and hushed whispers. Aster had seen and heard it all, had come to know each face and expect every word that came out of their lips. Now, as he walked along the road and over the rubble strewn about, he wondered if he would feel anything at all when the day finally came for his dream to play out.
I’ll be dead by then, he told himself, and huffed out a laugh, amused in spite of how morbid the thought was.
Aster continued on his way until the world around him began to fade away, dissolving into nothingness before being reshaped into the familiar field. His feet stepped onto soft grass and asphodels brushed against him as the sun painted the field in bright colors. The sound of birdsong met Aster’s ears—a now familiar tune.
This was, perhaps, the only part of the dream Aster didn’t really mind replaying, even though he knew there was little he could glean from it. Still, the moment of peace was a nice reprieve. He was also intrigued by the subtle changes that seemed to appear with each visit.
As he neared the oak where Calixtus always stood, he noted that he was seated this time, right leg stretched out in front of him while the other was bent up, an arm resting over it. He looked, as he often did, relaxed as he watched Aster approach. Once he stood before Calixtus, Aster stopped and stared down at the man he was currently married to. As usual, Calixtus merely stared back at him with a calm look in his blue eyes. On his left hand, his wedding ring shone beneath the dappled light of the sun that filtered through the canopy of the oak tree.
“You’ve waited for me still,” Aster said, mostly to himself. He was still rather curious about Calixtus’ presence in his dream when the purpose of that particular part had—as far as Aster knew—been met. And yet, there sat Calixtus.
“I have,” Calixtus said simply, not bothering to elaborate.
Aster didn’t know whether to laugh or huff in exasperation. He was just glad the real Calixtus wasn’t quite as vexing as the dream version his unconscious mind had conjured up. With a sigh, he looked up at the canopy above them, taking in the way the light of the sun painted the leaves in tones of emerald and gold. It was a pretty sight, even if it wasn’t real.
“Why do you wait for me? Why here?” he asked, mostly to himself. Calixtus, still answered. Aster figured he should be glad the man bothered to do so.
“Because this is home.”
Aster looked back down at him with a confused look. Calixtus didn’t elaborate, simply stared back before his lips twisted into a cryptic little smile. More and more, Aster was starting to miss his Calixtus. The one that didn’t speak in riddles and went along with his teasing without complaint. He chose not to think too much on what that meant.
Suddenly, as it always did, the world fell away. Aster had one last second to look at Calixtus before he was falling. Aster closed his eyes as the void of his mind washed over him. He felt himself dropping down to unending depths for what felt like too long. Then, the world came to a halt, and when Aster opened his eyes once again, he was standing in the same room of the magic tower where he would soon meet his end.
He waited for a moment until the door opened and a perfect copy of himself walked in. As always, he was dressed in white like all the mages of the tower, but the silver and ebony brooch was a unique addition. It was one of the things Aster had first noticed when he started having the dream, but hadn’t paid it much mind. At least, not until he knew the price he’d have to pay for Calixtus’ help. In that moment, Aster knew what he had to do.
The Aster of the dream walked into the room and stopped, just as he always did, visibly surprised. His lips moved without a single sound slipping past and Aster lamented never having learned to read lips. He stared into the darkness and waited until the dark shape that was his killer to walk out. There was the flash of silver and, in this moment, Aster focused. He closed his eyes and grasped at the vision around him—his own consciousness. When he opened his eyes, the world had stopped.
He ignored the dull throbbing in his head and stepped towards the creature hiding in the dark. Slowly, he reached up, fingers brushing against the shifting dark mass for a second. Then, the world exploded into white light and Aster felt everything shatter around him.
There was a sort of pain he didn’t think was possible, not when he was walking through dreams. For a while, he simply laid there, unmoving and unseeing as his head ached and his body burned. When, at last, Aster opened his eyes, he was still in the room of the tower.
The creature in the shadows, however, stood over him.
Aster had only a split second to roll away before the sharp blade used to kill his dream self was thrust in his direction. He scrambled to his feet, heart pounding in his chest and legs shaky from the still present pain that was slowly ebbing away. Slowly, the killer in hiding turned to look at him, and Aster had the odd feeling of being stared at. He stepped back, afraid in spite of himself, an unusual thing even if it lasted only a second.
This is a dream, he reminded himself. This is your dream. He cannot hurt you so long as you don’t allow it.
Aster gathered his wits about him, knowing the reminder was true enough. In dreams, at the very least, he had always been safe, regardless of what may happen in them. Even with the potion he’d drunk intensifying the power of his unconscious, true damage shouldn’t be possible for him to suffer through in his own mind. The situation, however, was highly unusual. Enough so that Aster wasn’t certain of his safety.
The shadow advanced, blade still held in his hand. Behind him, the Aster of the dream had disappeared, and Aster could see the rest of the room trembling as it threatened to crumble around him, coming apart as the natural flow of it was interrupted. Aster wondered just how much longer it would last.
Or perhaps I should bring it down myself, he thought.
It was something he’d never attempted before, always choosing to go along with the flow of the visions shown to him. Now though, as his killer approached, Aster figured it was about time he gave it a shot.
Ignoring the pain in his head, Aster focused on the dream around him, felt the tendrils of his own mind as they were woven into the dream he stood in and thought of pulling it apart. The shadowy figure drew closer, the blade reflecting Aster’s own pale face. Just then, the dream began to fall away even as Aster stepped back. Just before everything faded, a streak of silver flashed before him and there was a distant sort of pain as Aster was thrown back.
He fell into the void that always signaled the end of the dream and Aster closed his eyes as the pain in his head intensified and the faint ache where the blade had struck him began to fade. How long he fell, Aster wasn’t certain, but when he opened his eyes it wasn’t to the debris ridden city in his dreams, now was it to the now familiar ceiling of Calixtus’ room.
There was warm sunlight on his face and the sound of birdsong in his ears, accompanied by the soft rustling sound of the leaves of the great oak above him. For a moment, Aster was confused, until he sat up and caught sight of Calixtus sitting at his side with a small smile on his face.
For the time being, Aster thought, he was safe.
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