Three Futures Enslaved | Dream Team

Chapter Eighteen

Dream woke to the sound of loud knocking at the door behind him.

For a brief moment, he didn't understand what was happening. His back was sore and he was leaning against something really hard, which was probably why he was in pain. His arm throbbed, and patches of his face felt like they were on fire.

Then the image of dead bodies lying on the fresh snow flickered in front of his eyes like radio static, and it all came crashing down on him again.

He leapt up onto his feet and twirled around to stare at the door, which was blocked by the table he had pulled in front of it. The knocks had ceased, but he could still sense the presence of someone standing on the opposite side of the door. A quick glance out the window told him that it was dawn. He could just barely see the sun beginning to peak out over the land.

The sound of more hard raps against the door made him flinch. Dream looked down at the knife still clutched in his hands, then back up at the door again. He didn't want to hurt another person, but he was also scared. Everyone in the village probably knew what he had done by now, and they'd all be out for his blood. Maybe they'd put his head on a spike and parade his dead body around, celebrating the death of a murde---

Footsteps sounded. The person at the door had walked away.

Dream closed his eyes and exhaled, lowering his weapon. Stop it, he told himself fiercely. You can't lose control again. It doesn't matter if it's in self defense or not.

He tossed the knife onto the ground. Even if Azalea had told him to arm himself, he didn't want to be anywhere near the weapon.

With a grunt, he pushed the table away from the door and flung it open. The cold air hit his face like a slap. He could see footprints in the snow at the doorway, but whoever had been at the door was long gone.

Cautiously, he inched out, slowly closing the door behind him. A light snow was falling. The sky was grey, billows of clouds crawling across. With the sun still rising, there was just enough light to see his surroundings. The whiteness of the snow reflected it, making it almost seem like midday. 

He hugged his cloak close around himself as he trudged through the snow. Distantly, he could hear chatter from what seemed like the center of the market, where he knew there was a raised podium for announcements and such, with a notice board and everything. Even though he shouldn't have been moving towards the people who probably wanted him dead, he felt drawn towards it.

All the windows he passed by were shuttered shut. No lights were on. Dream frowned to himself as he walked. Were all the villagers at the center of the village? What were they doing there?

Nevermind that, he told himself firmly. Your only job is to find Azalea.

Dream continued along the path marked by footprints before him, following it towards the middle of the village. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the large crowd there. 

He could see knights around the edges, holding swords and keeping the crowd in check. Then, his ears registered the sound of shouting.

"Death! Burn her!"

"She's raised a demon!"

Dream's eyes widened. His feet stumbled, then pushed hard against the ground, propelling him forward. He elbowed his way through the crowd, ignoring the cries of indignation and then shouts as they recognized who he was. Hands grabbed at his cloak, but he pushed through relentlessly, breaking through the crowd and reaching the center. 

On the stone platform, sticks had been gathered. A long pole had been set in place, the wood piled around it. And standing at the pole, her hands tied behind it and her gaze still defiant... was Azalea.