Chapter 3

• -3-
• Kiriv’s POV
• I sat there, the silence enveloping the location. My brothers: Boldic, Lorduc, Aggil, and Ethurnail … sat in a circle with me. Food was set on the table with a goblet of ale for each of us. Nothing had been touched. Our eyes fixed on the gaping abyss we had formed in our minds. I had no idea if my brothers felt the same. A sense that something was amiss, but what could it be? I could not figure this out.
• At the beginning of the moon's rise, my routine had not changed, yet the thought persisted. I found myself strolling around our home, carefully scrutinizing every inch, checking for any signs of tampering. The only thing I saw was dirt, which I was quick to have the staff clean. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious had been taken from us without a trace of where it had gone.
• After a long solar day spent in contemplation, I finally gathered my thoughts, wanting to approach my brothers and see their perspective on the issue that weighed on my shoulders. I was uncertain, believing that I might have finally lost my mind. I briefly expressed my beliefs, and with each word I spoke, their expressions reflected my thoughts. Their eyes were filled with understanding as they struggled all solar day trying to figure things out on their own. Mirrored silent acknowledgment that we all shared the burning needs.
• Removing the silver mask from his face, Ethurnail leaned forward, his eyes darkening as he recalled the pieces of what he once believed to be a dream. “I had the oddest vision!” He began, setting the mask down gently on the floor beside his stool. “In this fantasy, there was a girl. Her hair flowed like liquid silver, down to her waist. Her eyes were a dark shade of emerald. Her skin was the colouring of freshly fallen snow. Smooth to the touch of these harsh and rough hands. Instantly, I was spellbound by her being."
• The room was strained as the conversation unfolded. Unspoken truths were written on our faces like a blow to the face. Each of us began to recount our own dreams, strikingly similar yet not! The woman at the center of our haunting memories fits the same description. Her vibrant eyes, the way she would lower her head as she covered her mouth with laughter.
• 'She was absolutely stunning!' The voice in my head bounced around as I glared at the liquid in my goblet.
• Vividly, I could picture the woman in my mind. I licked my lips as I recalled how good she tasted. Instantly, that single thought had stirred my manhood to life. "What else do you remember?" I asked my brothers, trying hard to think of anything else but the growing pressure in my lower limbs.
• As we shared our stories, it became clear that we were united not just by our visions but by the chilling realization that each scenario had been intricately woven with events leading up to that moment, when we were told of her demise. Although the specifics varied, the underlying theme was undisputed. A wrongful conviction that had erased Redrey's life, along with the life that grew in her belly.
• We sat there toying with the words spoken. I tried to remind myself that this was just a dream, a realistic one, but nothing more. The more we stewed on it, the more frustrating things felt. I rapped my finger off the table as I leaned forward. A voice mimicking mine bellowed so loud that it bounced around my skull, 'The girl is real!' My mind would not give up the notion.
• Then it hit me like a three-hundred-million volts of energy, knocking me down. The ending to the woman of my dreams. She didn't grow old as she should have. It did not sit well with me how this woman had met her demise. The wheels of injustice had unfavourable effects on her. Leaving a pit of guilt inside of me. We mourned over the loss that was in our minds. The cruel irony of fate we felt was all too real in our hearts.
• I could not know what my brothers were thinking; I could only speak for myself. The woman in our dreams was as real as the steel of my blade.
• "We need to find her!" I declared out loud to my brothers. I spoke her name as if I would never see her again: “Redrey!” I tightened my hands into fists as the guilt of my actions washed over me, mocking me for how blind I was to the truth.
• We all nodded in unison! Each of us was thinking of the same thing! Redrey, the one who had captured our hearts. With her soft-spoken words. With a heart so open, she viewed the world through a lens of naivety. Redrey wore her emotions on her sleeve. In the wrong hands, the little thing could easily be ripped apart.
• For us, an absolute warmth in her presence greeted us each time we called on her. Redrey was not only easy to hold in moments of silence, but her honesty was refreshing. At moments, we shared more than just thoughts; we shared a profoundly deep connection.
• 'How did things go so wrong?' I knew the answer. We all did. The real question is, how could we have allowed it to happen? We are the superior species! Surpassing others in strength, skill and leadership. Yet here we sit, bellyaching over a woman.
• 'Not just a woman!' My thoughts remind me. 'Thee woman! The one who fits perfectly in our hands!'
• I could not help myself. There was a connection between Ridley and us. Our body's reaction to the simple thought of her told us it was so.
• Aggie found himself at the center of the conversation. The details of his past rendition of what had been lost. And how she has been gifted to us as a wife.
• In our world, it was common to hand over sons and daughters as a form of settlement. They would be sent to us to settle a debt that could not be paid off. This happens more often than not; families can pay their dues to the warlord, and they do the only thing they can to save the family.
• My intrusive thoughts made a point. 'They may not live a life of freedom as the settlement may wish, but they have a full belly at the end of the solar day along with clothing to cover their flesh. If they do well they can find freedom after the sum of money has been paid off.'
• Then, there is the maintenance of fragile alliances.
• 'As if anyone could contend to our strength!' I leaned back as I glared at my siblings. Knowing we had sat in power for over a millennia now.
• Our world is unkind and does not cater to the weak. Only if one with such a status can gain the attention of someone of a high ranking could they be spared the hardship of their existence. Many sons and daughters had been handed over to us. A gesture pointed to appease us or, in other circumstances, a means to secure the leader position for the future.
• Such gifts were not merely symbolic. It was a calculated move to ward off threats and retain power, ensuring that the leader could maintain his influence without fear of our attack. Using their offspring as leverage, as our laws allow it.
• Redrey was one of those sacrifices, though there was more malicious intent behind her donation to our kingdom. Something we all had agreed on!
• Lorduc stretched his legs. "She came to us broken." He commented as he told what he had seen. Adding to the conversation. "Redrey still found the means to smile. Willingly we had placed her as part of our ranking wives. Finding pleasure in her rarity. A trophy that would mix well with what we already owned." He pondered with the thoughts of his mind. "What sector did the woman say she came from?"
• One at a time, my brothers snorted, making a disgruntled noise that erupted from the back of their throats. "Doesn't anyone remember?" I asked with a harsh tone in my voice. My temper was rising, mainly aimed at myself, as we tried to figure things out.
• It was a simple question, yet one that left me stumped. I shot a disappointed glare at Boldic. His lips were pressed tightly together, betraying no thoughts. Casting my gaze over my brothers, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me as I pondered the origins of Redrey.
• "How hard could it be to locate one female? It isn't as if there are copies of women with the same description roaming around our domain." I had made a point. Silver hair is rare, typically reserved for those of the weaver bloodline. Although it has been known to appear in unexpected places.
• Yet here we sat, dumbfounded, as neither of us could pinpoint a clear answer. We exchanged puzzled glances, scratching our heads. We collectively agreed that Redrey's history was as much a mystery as our situation.
• We sat there, drinking our ale, and pondered the situation further. From the brim of his goblet, Boldic unsealed his lips. He pointed out everything we had spoken of, bringing facts to bear on our emotional judgments.
• “Dream weaver!” Boldric said before he filled his mouth with the last remnants of the liquid that was in the chalice. "That is who is messing with our minds."
• I glared at my brothers as they mimicked my actions. No words needed to be spoken. This would answer many questions. A dream weaver does have the ability to allow time to relapse, though that would be someone who comes from the first sector, where their kind pools together. Someone who would be very powerful. Our minds had thought of a handful of names that could easily fill the slot of deceit and skills to be cunning. Yet neither of the names spoken had crossed our paths, and there is no ill will between our families.
• 'So who would the foolish dream weaver be?' I coldly stared at my siblings one by one. Wondering which one of us was the target. Or had the dream weaver intended for each of us to be cast under his or her spell?
• Demons possess a keen superiority that makes them challenging to mislead. Even the lowest-ranking spawn among us has a degree of resistance to their castings. However, the dream weaver's audacity in targeting a warlord like me is a grave mistake on the dream weaver's part.
• "I will not stand for this trickery!" Ethurnail slammed his fist on the table, causing the food and drinks to spill over.
• Servents jumped at the sudden outburst from my brother. I did not blame the servants for their desire to run and hide. It is only natural when a warlord is resentful. No one wants to be in the path of a charging demon.
• Warlords, along with our brethren, are not inclined to tolerate such trifles lightly. When provoked, we unleash our wrath with overwhelming force, a response that can endanger not only our target and their family but also the entire sector from which they hail. The consequences of crossing a demon of our stature can ripple through realms, leaving a trail of devastation in our wake. For this reason alone, weavers, demons, and wanderers have been known to target only lower beings. Making sure they stay out of our sight.
• For a fleeting second, the question flickered in our minds, "Is Redrey a dream weaver?"
• I promptly dismissed the idea. An authentic dream weaver, I reasoned, would have spun a richly favourable outcome; Redrey had died in our dungeons with an unborn child in her womb. A dream weaver would envelop themselves in luxury and ease. They would be unfamiliar with hardship and untouched by struggle. Redrey had her natural beauty, but she was not gifted with gold and gems. There was no elaborate silk cloth covering her delicate skin. The notion of Redrey weaving dreams only to be marred by adversity seemed impossible. Ther was one other key component … we can smell the power of a weaver, something our Redrey was not!
• As we continued to mull over the situation, tension built in my head. Each frustrating detail we recalled added fuel to the fire of our blood. Our blood gradually reached a boiling point, and we felt jaded about the situation unfolding before us. The unsettling notion of a dream weaver labouring in our minds left us feeling scorned. The very idea that the dream weaver could manipulate our thoughts and emotions without being noticed astonished us.
• 'Play with the lower being, those that matter not!' I thought to myself bitterly. 'The moment you involve myself and brothers, you better have a secured hiding spot.' I snorted out a large gust of smoke.
• Ethurnail stood to his feet, saying that before we made our move, we needed to find Redrey and bring her back to where she belonged. We agreed that once Redrey was back in our grasp, we would ensure that she would never be able to leave us again. She belonged to us, whether she realized it or not. We would have her back.
• After that, we were going to hunt down the dream weaver. Anyone who stood in the way of the dream weaver would soon find out the price they would pay for interfering with our target.