Velvety blackness, shrouded figures made mysterious movements, hands weaving and pulling at strings unseen, chaos and order from within it, undone by darker hands. A dream that shifted from that scene to a woman alone at a loom. Magical threads wove intricate arcane and divine sigils and patterns into a strange cloth, archaic symbols in a language long lost and forgotten. Thirteen faces rose from the cloth, and soon took human form, hands joined together in a circle. A darkness creeping in from the center, tugging at the connected hands until one comes loose, chaos ensues. Again the woman at the loom, with a heavy heart and sigh she left and dove into the patterned woven world. So connected again the thirteen grew, and more patterns were woven into the fabric on that loom. Yet no matter the time, again and again that darkness would creep in, breaking apart the connections and causing suffering.
A woman's voice echoed throughout, "Help heal them. Reforge the bond. Before the dark hands do more damage."
Dark fleshed taloned hands emerged from the void and rushed towards her. Claws ripping and tearing into her skin, the blood that gushed forth quickly turned to darkness which the hands greedily grasped at. Quickened foot steps, fleeing down a dark hall into a room with a silver loom and a veiled woman sitting there. Her hands were busy pulling and weaving the threads to create a wondrous tapestry. New faces arose and took humanoid form again, a darkness was shown within one, a darkness like a seed encased by those wretched dark hands. She could feel the suffering they endured, the pain within that slowly corrupted. How easy to curse the dark, where it is much harder to create a light within it.
Narcissa turned to the veiled woman with a sense of understanding. Her hands reaching for the woman's, only to find her gone before able to reach. She sat down at the loom and watched as her hands, as if guided by some other, began to continue the work of the veiled weaver. Her fingers dancing across the loom as they pulled and wove at the silvery threads of the dream time loom. More patterns emerged on the tapestry, ones she recognized and more she did not. Mysterious words in ancient tongues and long forgotten patterns emerged as if she were seeing history come alive within the woven world of the fabric.
A cold sweat covered Narcissa as she sat upright in the bed, panting. Her body was ice cold, and trembling, yet she felt a strange calmness within her. 'Such a strange dream...' She thought to herself, internally doubting the thought that it was merely a dream. It felt different to her than other dreams, even different from the dreams that revealed her magic. Why couldn't she remember what the woman looked like? Why was she feeling calm, yet trembling and cold as if awoken from a nightmare? With a sigh, she laid back down and summoned her familiar whom she told of her dream.
"What do you think Pluth?"
"Hmmm... I think you would be best seeking the advice of the Halans."
"Are you sure? I don't want to upset them, and it could just be a dream and nothing more."
"If you believed that, Mistress, you'd not be asking me for advice." The wise raven replied.
Narcissa sighed, the bird was right. She didn't fully believe it was just a dream, she believed it was more, and that terrified her.
"It's already so weird that I can heal without prayer though. Mister Tarset said it was a miracle..." Se trailed off, the fear evident in her voice.
"You were quite overjoyed to be able to heal Mistress, why the sudden change?"
"Because that vision, or dream, or whatever it was scared me. I've never experienced anything like that before Pluth."
"New things can be terrifying indeed my Mistress, but remember what Mother Eve had said to you. The Mother has not abandoned you, in fact, I'd say you've found a way to become closer to Her, and that is not something to fear my dear."
"Maybe I'll have a drink or two and try to sleep the rest of the night." She said as she took out a small flask and pat the pillow beside her. Pluth spread his wings and fluttered over to the pillow besides his mistress's head. As soon as she put the flask away, her familiar nestled himself beside her, rubbing his feathered cheek against hers in a show of affection and comfort.
"Rest well Mistress, I will be here to watch over you." Pluth whispered soothingly as he watched Narcissa drift off into a peaceful, dreamless slumber.
