Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 446

Chapter 446: Over there
Trace sat, still and concentrating. His magic would return. He knew it would, it was only just a matter of time.

And he only needed a small amount to force himself awake. After all, Anaisa had learned to do it even though she had no magic at all!

Well, used to have no magic. He frowned, trying to breathe slowly and deeply. Restfully. Maybe if he rested here, his magic would return more quickly?

Finally, what could have been seconds or ages later, he felt some small bit of it in his soul. Would it be enough, or would he waste it trying, and have to begin again?

Patience was not a great virtue to him right now. It was an inconvenience.

He counted to one hundred, waiting for the tiny speck of it to grow into something usable.

And then, he gasped.

His eyes opened to a confusing brown ceiling. Where had they taken him??

“Shh,” A voice hushed him with anxiety, and he saw his niece’s face.

That was at least a little comforting. He was visible now, and they appeared to be under… furniture?

Where were they? Where were the others? Where was Anaisa? What had happened?

His eyes demanded answers, and Mia looked to Princess Sapphira before turning back to him. She kept her voice at a low whisper.

“The Emperor wanted the others to come. We are to remain here.”

That answered almost none of his questions, and spawned a dozen more, at least, but just then the Emperor’s voice boomed through the room.

“Cease.”

Trace sat up and turned his eyes, fresh with yet more queries, on his niece and the princess. Both stared at him, wide eyed and clueless.

“I don’t know–” Mia whispered, but just behind her, a horrifying image appeared out of nothing.

Denholm, slitting Grandpa’s throat.

Trace blinked, unsure at first whether this was some manner of hallucination. Perhaps he was still dreaming, and had used up his magic to the point that he no longer controlled it at all!

Mia turned and screamed, running out to throw herself across Grandpa and stem the flow of blood as the old man fell to the floor.

Half an instant later, an enormous hand scooped them both off the stone, leaving a pool of blood behind.

Princess Sapphira gasped.

“He’s getting away!” She whispered frantically as Denholm sprinted from the room.

It seemed the Emperor was not going to go after him.

Trace’s magic was exhausted, and so he had suffered physically from the exertion of overusing it, but that didn’t mean he was completely useless.

Struggling, he got to his feet. Sapphira cringed.

“I’m coming with you,” She asserted firmly.

He eyed the princess for a moment, knowing arguing was going to be a waste of time, and that two was better than one when it came to catching the fiend. He nodded, and the pair went to the edge of the dresser and looked out from under it.

The Emperor’s back was to them now, so they darted out the door.

Trace wished he had Mia to guide them, but by now he knew the way out of the castle well enough.

Denholm did, too. They had each been taken to the forest to have their powers refreshed more than once over their time here.

So although Denholm could, in theory, try a different way out, he seemed in a hurry to be gone. And that meant the familiar path.

Sapphira followed Trace as he tried to keep up with the pace the evil man was doubtlessly setting.

He still desperately hoped that somehow, this was a terrible dream. The image of his father falling to the ground, bleeding, was one he shook off as a hallucination. Believing it would cripple his ability to capture and subdue Denholm.

Down, down, down the winding stairs and through the hallways, Trace picked up speed. Now that he was awake, his strength was returning.

Probably because getting closer to the forest was replenishing his magic as well. The two things were intertwined more than Trace had realized before coming here.

But of course, that meant that Denholm would have extra magic as well.

Trace’s powers increased while near the power of the trees, first being able to see dreams while awake, and then being able to conjure things in reality as if he were inside a dream.

Denholm had not demonstrated any other abilities than more insistent feelings and sensations than he could do before.

Trace had long suspected that Denholm was holding such increased power close to himself for an opportune moment. He hoped he was wrong, but now was not the time to worry, it was the time to act.

The wights had disappeared from the halls; not one was to be seen. That was strange, it always seemed quite crowded when Trace came through before. The Emperor’s awakening must have made them change their habits…

Finally, he caught sight of Denholm sneaking around a corner, towards the giant front doors of the castle.

Rather than alert the man to their presence, Trace broke into a run. The glint of a knife in Denholm’s hand urged extra caution, and Trace sent a warning glance over his shoulder, urging Sapphira to stay back.

But she was very nearly as reckless as his wife; her pursuit of the two men did not slow.

He felt life come almost full circle as he realized he would once again play the role of her bodyguard, attempting to protect her from Denholm’s manipulations.

That left a foul taste in Trace’s mouth, but there was naught to be done about it.

Coming out the main gate, the path became uncertain. Would Denholm run to an exit from the cave? Would he continue straight through the forest?

Neither one of them knew their way home from here; perhaps Denholm’s goal was merely to reach the surface and try to find his way from there?

Trace grimaced until Sapphira laid a hand on his shoulder.

“There,” She pointed through the trees. “Over there.”