Lori leaned against Jangles, his steady breaths lulling her into a half-dreaming haze. The barn’s lantern light softened, casting an ethereal glow that felt... strange. She blinked, trying to place the oddity, but the colors around her dulled, like a memory fading at the edges.

  She glanced at everyone around her, taking in the peaceful scene. Each person sat wrapped in a blanket, resting on cots that pilots typically used while their thunderbirds slept nearby. The soft rise and fall of their breathing added a rhythmic calm to the atmosphere. Redhand, still in the chair where they had found him, remained undisturbed, his posture unchanged as he slept soundly.

  She felt different, and the colors around her seemed washed out and faded. She couldn’t remember lying next to Jangles. Wait—hadn’t she been laughing with Selene over cards? The straw prickled her skin, too sharp, too real. A chill snaked up her spine. This wasn’t right. She was in a waking dream. Fear tightened her chest. The surreal quality of the scene around her, once comforting, now felt menacing and unfamiliar.

  This wasn’t her first time in a waking dream, and she knew of the dangers. Lori remembered the warnings imparted by those with great experience, the ones who had navigated the treacherous realms of dream and reality. The waking dreams were unpredictable and perilous, a place where the boundaries between thought and reality dissolved.

  Her heart pounded in her chest as she remained perfectly still, her mind racing with the knowledge of what could happen. She had survived two waking dreams before, each time emerging with a deeper understanding of herself and her fears. But this time felt different, more urgent, and she knew she had to tread carefully.

  She stayed perfectly still, every muscle tensed, her breath held captive in her chest. The air felt thick with an unspoken dread, wrapping around her like a suffocating shroud. Her eyes darted, meticulously scanning every corner of the dimly lit barn.

  There was only one lantern lit, hanging in the center of the barn, casting a feeble light that barely chased away the encroaching darkness. Shadows danced ominously on the walls, elongating and distorting with each flicker of the flame. The barn, usually a place of refuge and familiarity, now felt alien and threatening.

  Her heart pounded a relentless rhythm in her ears as she continued her silent vigil. She knew something was amiss, a presence that did not belong. The tension stretched every second into an eternity. Her senses were heightened, every noise amplified, every shadow a potential threat. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  A shadow stretched across the barn wall, too still amid the lantern’s flicker. Lori’s breath caught. No one stood there to cast it—just the silhouette, sharp and wrong. It slithered, tendrils probing Bing’s shadow, then Selene’s, lingering as if sifting through their minds.

  What was it doing? Could it be searching minds? Was it seeking to harm or kill? Had it already touched her, her father, or Jangles? Lori decided she had to act.

  She slowly put one hand behind her head and leaned back, trying to look as casual as possible. Lori’s voice trembled slightly, but she forced a smirk. “Looking for something?” The shadow whipped around, its unseen gaze piercing her. “It’s not nice to go poking at people in the dead of night.” She rolled a cigarette, hands steadying with each motion.

  She sat up and looked not at the shadow but where its owner must be standing as she put the cigarette to her lips. “Maybe if you asked nicely, I could help.”

  The being stood still and quiet.

  “It must be tough,” she said as she lit the cigarette and blew out a puff of smoke. “Here you are, released after how many thousands of years? And you can’t even leave the site of your prison.” She laughed. “Hard luck, friend.”

  A voice slithered from the dark, three tones weaving together—crumbling leaves, sand on glass, and a deep rumble creating a dissonant harmony. Lori’s skin prickled, but she kept her face neutral. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, wrapping around Lori like a shroud of ancient whispers.

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  “I will leave soon. The magic that keeps me here is nearly broken.”

  Lori shrugged. “So you say.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “I doubt you will be able to break the magic that Nekhet-Amun trapped you with.”

  “He was a fool!”

  The voice made Lori’s skin crawl, but she managed to keep a cool expression.

  “Nekhet-Amun had the power of the ages in his grasp, and he gave it all up when he captured us!” The force, the presence, stepped forward, the shadow on the wall making it seem it was reaching for her.

  Lori resisted the urge to cringe back. “But you’re still here. You’re still trapped. It looks like you’re having trouble breaking free, am I right?”

  The presence stopped and seemed to be considering.

  “Did you make Nekhet-Amun some sort of deal?” Lori stood and paced around the barn, holding her cigarette at her waist. “You did, didn’t you?” She smirked. “And he turned you down. Tell me, what did you offer him?”

  The presence of Ma’at-jer seemed to stare at her. Lori could feel its eyes boring into her. She wondered how long she could keep up this fa?ade of cool.

  “I gave him the choice,” it spoke with only one voice this time. “I would spare his land, his home, if he would stand aside.”

  Then came the second voice, slightly higher and more feminine. “I would spare his life, and the life of his loved ones.”

  The third voice spoke, deep and rumbling. “The light would stay, shining over his land, as long as he swore obedience.”

  “Well, that sounds like a deal to me.” Lori crushed out her cigarette and leaned back against a post, her arms folded. “I’ll take that deal, just tell me what you need.”

  The three voices chuckled individually, echoing through the barn. “What could you possibly do for us?” They spoke in unison again. “You have no power, there is no magic in you!” they scoffed.

  Lori shrugged. “You’re right, I have no magic. But they do.” She gestured toward her passengers. “And they will stop you.” She walked around the space where the Ma’at-jer must be standing. “Look at you, you can’t even take physical form in a dream! You’re not strong enough to face them, and they’ll find you soon, trust me. I’ll be helping them. And they will put you back in your little box for another five thousand years.”

  They let loose with a barking laugh. “The vessel of Garmac is useless here! Its magic is weakening, and I will soon be free of it!”

  Invisible hands seized her throat, hoisting her up. Lori’s vision swam, lungs burning as she thrashed at empty air. The grip faltered—just enough for a ragged gasp, not enough to break free. Either they couldn’t find the strength to squeeze the life out of her, or they didn’t want to.

  “Are you sure?” Lori wheezed and rasped out the words. “You never know, you might need an ally in the next couple of days…”

  The shadow released her, and she collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.

  They chuckled at her, half mocking, half amused.

  “You are a curious girl. You amuse us. We shall see if you can be any use.”

  Lori bolted awake, phantom fingers still squeezing her throat. She coughed, hands flying to her neck, then lunged to check Bing’s pulse. Selene stirred, bleary-eyed. “You okay?” Lori rasped, cupping her face.

  Selene nodded. “What happened?”

  Lori leaned back, throat raw, hands trembling faintly. “What happened?” Selene mumbled.

  “Bad dream,” she murmured, forcing a smile despite the shadows still clawing at her mind. "Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep." With a gentle pat on Selene's shoulder, she turned and walked across the barn. Her steps were slow and deliberate, each one accompanied by a persistent cough. She reached her saddlebags, rummaging through them until she found a thick, woolen blanket.

  Lori found her father in the office. Someone had given him a blanket and he had fallen asleep in a chair next to Redhand. She watched him long enough to be sure he was breathing.

  Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she made her way to Jangles. The dragon lay peacefully in the hay, his massive form rising and falling with each breath. She draped the blanket around herself and settled down beside him, leaning against his warm, scaly tummy. Despite her coughing, Jangles remained undisturbed, his wing instinctively draping over her like a protective shield.

  Regardless of her fear, she always found solace in her dragon. She rested her head against his soft, yellow belly, drawing comfort from the familiar warmth. The rhythmic and gentle rise and fall of Jangles' breathing provided a sense of security. It was a routine they had shared numerous times during their journeys, consistently bringing her peace. But she didn’t think she would be able to sleep tonight. The encounter with the shadow being replayed itself in her mind, and she started to put little clues away in niches in her brain. Hopefully, sometime soon, she would be able to put those clues together and figure out how to defeat this entity. But at the moment, the pieces would not fall into place.

  Fear lingered, but Jangles’ warmth cut through it. Lori sank against his belly, his steady breaths easing her racing heart. The dream’s echoes faded, just enough to let sleep reclaim her.