CHAPTER 94: DREAM

That night, Ilaria dreamed of her childhood. It began as it always did. The world was golden, the air thick with the scent of oranges from the palace grove as laughter spilled like a song between marble pillars.

She was small and barefooted, her hair a wild tumble as she ran through the courtyard fountains, her shrieks echoing as water glittered around her like falling glass. Serenya chased after her with a towel clutched in both hands, breathless and smiling despite herself.

Even as a child she had been graceful and steady, always the responsible one, but Ilaria had a talent for tugging her straight into chaos.

"Aria, wait! Mama’s going to scold you again!" Serenya called, though the warning lost all its weight when her sister splashed her with a sweep of her foot.

Water hit Serenya’s robes. She squeaked, then burst into helpless laughter.

"No she won’t!" Ilaria shouted back, spinning through another fountain spray. "Because I’ll ask Papa to defend me!"

From the side of the courtyard, the royal gardener paused in shaping a miniature cypress. He shook his head with a smile tugging at his lips, the same smile he wore every time the two princesses turned the palace grounds into their own kingdom of mischief and sunlight.

"Those two," he muttered fondly, watching them whirl through the fountains, bright as summer.

Everything in those days was alive, even the dust that danced in the morning light, even the doves that nested along the high balconies. The palace was never silent, it breathed with warmth, music, and the rhythm of feet and heartbeats. The echoes of a home that loved her.

Slowly, the dream shifted.

Ilaria was older now a girl of fourteen, learning to ride, wind in her hair and her sister’s voice calling from behind. "Don’t look down, Aria! The world’s bigger when you lift your chin!"

And she had laughed so hard she nearly fell from the horse, both of them rolling in the meadow after, too breathless to care. The scent of crushed grass and sun-warmed skin clung to them all summer.

Then the seasons folded again. She was eighteen, the sky heavy with petals from the blooming trees that lined the steps to the Grand Hall. She remembered that day, the day she was to be wed and how her sister had come to help her dress.

Her gown shimmered in white and soft silver thread, the veil a whisper of light across her hair. Ilaria had stood before the mirror, almost disbelieving that the reflection belonged to her. She was radiant, not because of the silk or jewels but because she was happy.

Truly, deeply happy.

Serenya stood behind her, hands adjusting the clasp of her necklace and the dragon barrettes on her head — their beloved mother’s heirloom. Their eyes met in the mirror.

"You look like the dawn," Serenya murmured, smoothing a stray lock behind her sister’s ear. "You’ll make him forget every war he’s ever fought."

Ilaria had flushed, laughing under her breath. "I don’t want him to forget. I just want to be a good wife to him..."

Serenya’s hands stilled for a heartbeat.

In the mirror, Ilaria watched the soft dip in her sister’s expression and the faint shadow that crossed her eyes before she forced a smile back into place. It was still loving, still gentle... just tinged with something that felt like a farewell she had not spoken aloud.

The dream lingered there, in the faint hum of celebration, the echo of bells, the smell of lilac and incense filling the corridor. Music spilled faintly from beyond the doors. The kingdom had been alive that morning in the unification of the teo royals.

And Ilaria, standing in that golden light with her sister’s hands resting on her shoulders, had believed that nothing could ever take it away.

The light dimmed without warning.

One moment the palace bells were still ringing, and the next, the air had thickened and the laughter had gone. The scent of lilac faded into something damp and metallic.

Ilaria turned, and the corridor that once led to the Grand Hall stretched endlessly ahead, the floor shifting beneath her feet like water. The white of her wedding gown darkened with each step she took, the silk turning grey, then to deep bruised red of rust.

She turned, searching for her sister, but the mirror no longer showed two reflections. Only hers, blurred at the edges as if the glass itself were fogging from within.

The sound of the sea came so suddenly. It was distant at first, a hush beneath the walls, but it grew louder until it drowned the music entirely. The doors ahead of her cracked open, and beyond them was no hall nor sunlight.

Only the Expanse.

A vast sea that should not have existed there spilling to the horizon under a colourless sky. The mist rolled low, and the water... the water was red. Not the vivid red of roses, but heavy and dark like that of blood.

Her bare feet met the wet sand, cold seeping up her bones. There were indistinct shapes along the shore, moving slowly as if caught between life and death. They bent and rose, bent and rose, their motions rhythmic and reverent.

In the distance, Serenya’s voice called her name so softly... It sounded so broken but far too calm for her mind to ease.

"Ilaria."

She turned toward it, heart lurching. The mist swelled around her, blurring shapes into silhouettes. Serenya stood at the edge of the red tide, her gown soaked and trailing behind her like a shadow. There was no crown on her head, only a band of twisted reeds and bone.

"Sister?" Ilaria’s voice trembled, horrified by the sight. "What are you doing—?"

Serenya only smiled, the serene and gentle smile she always wore. "You should wake up," she said.

Huh?

The sea trembled, and the mist began to whisper. A thousand voices, low and mournful, chanting something she could not understand. The waves pulsed once, twice, like the beating of a giant heart beneath the sand.

When Ilaria looked down, the hem of her dress was no longer white. It bled outward, staining in slow waves.

She stumbled back, but the ground shifted under her, the air cracking like broken glass. Serenya was gone. The sea was gone. Everything blurred and only the echo of a voice lingered.

"Wake up, my Queen."

The world shattered.

Ilaria woke with a gasp, her hand pressed to her chest, heart pounding as if she had been running for a mile. The tent was still and the night air was still cold, but the scent of saltwater clung to her skin as if she had gone swimming in a vast ocean.

Her lungs refused to settle as the dream clung to her. She sat up slowly, the sheets twisting around her legs, her pulse a frantic rhythm beneath her skin. For a moment, she thought she still heard that deep, pulsing hum of the sea, until she felt the shimmer of comfort in her chest.

Levan.

The connection shimmered faintly, a thread of warmth against her heart where the sigil rested. It was distant and strained. She could feel the weight in it, like the air before a storm. His focus was sharp and cold as always, but underneath it was something she had never felt from him before. A flicker of unease.

Her throat tightened. "Levan?" she whispered, though she knew he would not answer. The resonance pulsed once in response, then dulled again, as if muffled by distance.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

For a heartbeat, she thought she was still trapped in the dream. And so she pressed her hands trembled as she pressed them over her heart, forcing her breath to slow.

"It was just a dream," she murmured, forcing herself to drift back to slumber. "Just a dream..."

She repeated it until her heartbeat began to slow, until the echo of the sea faded from her ears. But even as she lay back down, the warmth of the ward on her chest flickered again like a faint pulse beneath a distant storm.

And though her eyes finally closed, sleep no longer came easily.

She did not remember drifting off again, but when her eyes opened, the tent was no longer dark. A pale light filtered through the seams of the fabric. The storm of her heartbeat had quieted, and the air was warmer now, heavy only with the faint scent of ash and cedar.

A shadow moved beside her. She blinked.

"Ilaria."

Her breath caught, not from fear this time, but relief. Levan sat by her side, his silhouette clear in the dim light. His cloak was gone, his shoulders were relaxed, the faintest smile curving his mouth as he brushed a strand of hair from her face.

"You were writhing in your sleep," he said. His voice was familiar, grounding as he gently pinched her cheek. "It must have been a bad dream."

"I... I thought you were gone longer," she whispered, snuggling closer to him. "The air felt wrong."

"I’m here now." His hand trailed gently through her hair, and she leaned into it instinctively. The touch was cool but careful, as though he feared she might vanish. "You’re safe."

She exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering closed as the tension began to melt from her shoulders. For a moment, rhe rhythm of his breathing, the quiet between them felt real again. But an odd sensation started to gnaw in her heart.

"Husband..." she began, barely above a whisper.

"Hm?"

"Your hands," she said softly. "They’re so cold."

The hand on her cheek paused. Then very slowly, it slid down to her neck. She was no longer unfamiliar with his touches, but it felt too smooth, too still, and there was no heartbeat beneath the skin.

Her eyes opened.

The thing sitting beside her was still smiling. Its eyes, gold like Levan’s were too bright, unblinking in the silver light. The air around it rippled faintly, the edges of its form dissolving like mist.

It leaned closer, voice a breath away from her ear. "He thought of you too."

The words did not sound like Levan’s anymore. They were a whisper from somewhere inside the dream.

She gasped, pushed herself away from its touch and the world split. The tent vanished. The light shattered into crimson water, the sound of rushing tides filling her skull. And there was so many hands reaching through the red.

She screamed and woke, only to see that the tent was still dark the whole time. Her pulse thundered in her throat, the sheets damp with her sweat. She did not move for a long while, staring into the dark until her breathing steadied...

Only for it to pick up again when the tent flap moved.