Brint floated in the darkness, shadows and shapes coalesced all around him. In the background, voices echoed, making strange harsh noises that he had never heard before. As he focused on the shadows he found that they looked like snakes, tangling in a grotesque dance.

No, not snakes, Brint realized, as they seemed to be rooted to the same core. Tentacles. Each curling and swaying in the darkness. At the end of each tentacle was a pod, which had a mouth, the origin of the voices.

The sounds were a strangle of guttural noises at first, but then words began to emerge from the voices, and Brint found that they were speaking to each other.

"Some unique lineage, perhaps?" said one of them.

"Doubtful," said another. "I see no memories of being exchanged. The hunter is his birth father."

A third tentacle cackled then whimpered. "Maybe they just like the way he looks. He is a pretty one."

"Shut up, Muddle," snapped another. "The Nyx doesn't choose for looks."

"But Rile, they're all so pretty. Especially Sylvara. I wish she would let us talk to her."

"Wouldn't that be nice?" The new voice was dark and sensual. "I bet her flesh tastes sweet."

"I don't like her," said a small voice that belonged to a stringy shadow. "She's mean and she frightens me."

"Enough about Sylvara," Rile said with a snap of his body. "What do you think, Haze? About the boy."

There was the sound of screeching. Then Brint realized the sixth voice was laughing. "The Nyx bringing in an Earthborn? I think he might be special. Very special."

Brint didn't like what they were saying. He knew he was dreaming, and he felt his anger flash.

"What are you?" he said to the monsters. "And why are you bothering me in my dream?"

The pods all turned to face him then, and suddenly their shadows lessened. Brint saw their sinuous, vein-covered skin, each different in shade of color and thickness.

"No, no," said the smallest one. "He can see us! He shouldn't be able to see us!"

"Quiet, Jitter!" Rile hissed as he swung forward and rose above Brint swaying around him. Brint followed the tentacle's movements with his eyes.

The pod turned back toward one of the others. “It took you two tries for that big crybaby, and now this conceited brat can see us. I ought to snap your stalk, Doze!"

"It's not my fault!" Dozen cried, wiggling his body in protest.

"Don't call me a brat, worm. I asked you, what are you doing in my dream?"

All the tentacles turned to Brint again and went still.

Then Jitter was whimpering again. "He can understand us too! No no no! He shouldn't be able to—"

"I said shut it, Jitter!" Rile snapped. The large tentacle lowered himself until his pod was face to face with Brint.

It was a disgusting creature. The pod had no eyes, no nose. It only contained a wide mouth filled with uneven jagged teeth. But Brint was strangely unafraid. Somehow he knew the monsters could not hurt him here. It was his dream after all.

Rile seemed to be inspecting him despite having no eyes. Then it said, "Who are you?"

Brint flung out his arm and snatched at Rile's neck, his hands closing together in a fierce grip to strangle the monster—

Brint's eyes shot open, finding the lush foliage and trees of the forest before him.

What was that?

The dream clung to him like wet cloth, its bizarre images sharp in his mind. Tentacles. Voices. But before he could consider the dream further, he looked down and found that he could not move. Something bright and thick wrapped over him just below the collar bone and extended all the way down to his feet. Arcana? The hard substance pulsated against his body.

He tapped his head at the solid thing behind him. It felt like the grooves of a tree. He was bound to a trunk. How had that happened? And who—

Of course, he knew who. Syl had done this. There was no one else capable of such a thing in the village. He had thought her a friend, his future mentor and teacher. Why would she do this?

She had appeared one day in the woods while he was out hunting with his father. They had been in the cover of foliage, and not even the boar that they had been hunting for the harvest festival had spotted them, and yet somehow she had.

He sensed his father was on his guard then, but she had presented a seal of the Chandra, one of the Five Holy Covenants. She was a full arcanist, and she claimed to have sensed Brint’s potential.

Afterward, Syl had met with the elders and asked for their permission to teach him. Or rather, it seemed, she had informed them of her intention to teach him. She was an Ascendant, as long as Brint was willing, she did not need the permission of the village elders or even his father, for her caste was even greater than the Emperor’s.

Then she had given him spell talismans. Talismans that cost thousands of arca, all given for free. He could scarcely believe his good fortune.

But now he was bound by her magic to a tree trunk. He did not see her from his vantage point, but he could not turn his head and see around the trunk. Perhaps she had bound him here as part of some lesson.

Something about his dream sparked in his mind. The tentacles had spoken a name that made him think of his new teacher’s. Sylvara.

But it was only a dream. He tried to think of what he had been doing before he had been bound. Then the memories came to him and he could not believe that had not thought of them earlier.

He had lost the duel to Aelric. The pain of it climbed out of his chest and into his mind then. He had lost. He still couldn't fathom it. He'd been so stupid. Why had he held back his strength? He should have given Aelric the beating he deserved, not caring if he broke bones.

I’m no better than anyone else, coddling Aelric just like the rest of the village does.

And now because of it, he'd lost Feyna.

He cursed himself again and again. The pain in his chest and mind, becoming ever sharper.

Stop it. Not right now, a voice in his mind said.

It was right. He needed to focus. Syl had bound him and he still did not know why. She had promised him great power and knowledge by offering to be his teacher. She had chosen him. There must be some reason why she had bound him to the tree.

A pang of fear flashed through him again. He had lost his chance to marry Feyna, would he lose Syl’s tutelage too? Would he lose his opportunity to be the village chief?

He thought of what had happened after the duel. He had been upset. He had gone to the forest to clear his mind. Syl had found him then.

"How disappointing," she'd said. "It appears I've made a mistake."

He was still too distraught. He told her to go away.

Then… then he couldn't remember what had happened next. Except for the dream. That was clear to him. Those horrifying monsters. He felt the fear then that he hadn't in the dream, his body shivering within the clutches of the arcana bind.

Elder Sharp had once told him dreams were not to be taken lightly.

"Why were they talking about me?" he muttered to himself.

"Ah! Who's there?" came a voice from behind the tree, snapping Brint out of his thoughts.