Blood Runner: Book Three of the Empress Saga

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

The investiture took a good deal of experimentation to get right. She had a little experience with the prime reagent, crumbleweed. She used it to brew her dream ward potions in the past. With a few alterations, and the addition of amaranth petals and a few strange herbs the goblin green ones brought with them, Enfri created a spell that didn't protect her dreams, but placed her into one.

Jin's advice was invaluable, as was that of the oneiromancers among the mighty. Nonetheless, this was a spell that no dreamer had ever attempted before. Only someone with the elder magic of Shan Alee could make use of it.

Enfri went to sleep and found herself once more in the place of sand and ghosts.

She set out into the ruins, raising her eyes to take in the grand buildings towering over her. She felt as if the Imperial City were a dragon, and it swallowed her whole.

"Oneiromancy," Enfri murmured to herself. "Winds, but I never thought I'd ever give it a whirl on my own."

She looked down at herself, curious of how she would appear in the dream. Oneiromancy gave the dreamer unique insight into their own mind and soul. The dream self, how she manifested within the dream, was supposed to be who they believed themselves to be deep inside. There was no hiding from yourself in oneiromancy. No lies or illusions, only the truth.

Enfri was surprised by what she found. She wore something she didn't remember ever seeing before. The dark green dress was made from soft and sturdy wool- alpaca, she thought. It was embroidered, floral patterns done in silver thread. A high neckline, long skirt, but sleeveless. Her left arm bore tattoos, those already an indelible part of how she viewed herself.

It wasn't particularly fashionable, not like any sort of dress Jin would select for her, and if the villagers of Sandharbor ever saw the outfit, they'd look at her as if she'd just come from the moon. Not the dress of an empress or a sky woman. Something in-between, a foot in both worlds. Enfri rather liked it and thought she'd try to describe it to a seamstress once she had an opportunity.

"You look so much like your mother."

Enfri froze, unable to breathe. Her heart beat so fast she was worried it was about to pound its way right out of her. She turned, hesitant to look at him. Afraid, but unsure of what it was she feared.

He was tall. Easily Ban's height, and probably a few inches more. He wore the uniform of an Althandi armsman— chain hauberk, girded leather leggings, and a long tabard cinched at the waist with a thick belt. His tabard was dark red with a scarlet sunburst emblazoned across his chest, the colors and sigil of House Merovech. He didn't wear a helmet, and his short-cropped hair shone like gold. It matched his thick eyebrows and contrasted with his brown skin, darker than Enfri's own.

She found her father's face and saw it clearly.

So much younger than she imagined. Yora died when he was eighteen, a year younger than Enfri was now. If she saw someone with such a youthful face in her army, she'd want to send them back home to their mother.

Almost immediately, her vision blurred. She couldn't see him so well through her tears.

"There now," Yora whispered. He took her face in his hands and brushed the moisture aside. Pulling Enfri to his chest, he held her close and ran his fingers through her hair. "I'm here, my sunrise."

This didn't feel like a dream. He was so warm, so real. Enfri could feel the rise and fall of his chest, hear the beat of his heart. His arms were around her, and she fit so perfectly inside them.