When Nightmare Leaves Scars 2
“No.” My voice was hoarse but firm.
Ethan's gaze snapped back to mine with a frown. I could feel the tension in the way his body coiled, ready to strike.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe past the lingering haze of pain. “It wasn’t an external attack,” I whispered.
Silence followed once again. I let it linger because how exactly was I supposed to explain that my sorceress side had manifested as an entity in my mind and it was strong enough to harm me physically?
Ethan’s grip flexed, his control razor-thin. I could see it in the way his jaw tightened, in the flicker of something unreadable behind his dark eyes. He was anxious.
I licked my lips, forcing the words out. “It was me,” I admitted. “It happened in my dream.”
The weight of their gazes pressed in on me.
“Explain,” Ethan ordered, biting down on his Jaw.
“I've been having certain dreams for a while where I sorta talk to my wolf and this girl,” I paused, twiddling my thumbs.
“What did she look like?“ Khalid headed toward me with concern etched in his countenance.
“It could be a sleeper,” Caleb interjected.
“Aren't they rare? Also, I don't believe the harm they do in dreams manifests in reality,” Abel entered the conversation further drifting me toward the shores of confusion.
“What's a sleeper?“ I tilted my head to ask.
“A melbringer that can somehow trap you in suggestive dreams though they're usually just experts in hypnotism and mind control,” Abigail explained, folding her arms as her eyes traveled in contemplation.
“I've never read about one using poison through dreams,” She mumbled to herself.
“Because it's not a sleeper,” I sighed, running my right hand through my hair. “It's me, the girl, she looks exactly like me and I think she represents my other side.“
“Your Melbringer side,” Abigail's hands dropped low, her eyes widening as she gasped.
It might be the most vivid expression I've ever witnessed her make.
“So you hurt yourself,” Ethan slowly asked with a skeptical tone, dragging the words out.
“It's not exactly deliberate, I —” I hesitated, unsure how to proceed to explain it further.
But then Abigail exhaled, stepping forward. "I have a theory," she murmured, her voice measured and careful. "I've actually had it for a while now."
I blinked at her. "What?"
She crossed her arms, chewing her lip like she was weighing her words, then finally sighed. "Look, we all know it’s insane enough that you exist in the first place. A hybrid of two things that have never really mixed. And I believe this might be a consequence of that and more, Harlyn."
Her eyes flickered with something peculiar, not pity, but a bystander's understanding. "I believe the opposing natures of lycanthropy and sorcery have somehow... split. Manifested into individual entities that are both fighting for dominance."
Something icy slid through my chest. "What do you mean?" My voice was barely a whisper.
Abigail glanced at the others, then back at me. "Think about it. A werewolf is instinct. Feral. Pack-driven. Physical. A sorceress is intellect. Solitary. Calculated. Magical in and out of the laws of nature. They're opposites, Harlyn." Her expression darkened. "And you grew up never really nurturing either of them.“
I felt like I was starting to understand where she was headed considering the last conversation I had with my doppelganger.
“Your wolf never had a pack to ground her and your magic was never even allowed to be manifested to be trained in the first place. Both parts of yourself have been locked for years." She hesitated, then said, "I believe now… set free, they both want control."
I let out a bitter laugh, holding my head and tugging my roots. “Control,” I repeated.
I could barely control myself now.
A shudder ran through me as the implication sank in. My wolf and my magic despite being parts of me were separate forces. And, they were warring inside of me, hurting each other and possibly hurting me.
I forced in a shaky breath. "You’re saying…" My throat felt tight, clogged with something too big to swallow. "That I’m a living embodiment of a constant power trip between the werewolves and the melbringers."
Abigail’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t need to say it.
The others stood still. No one spoke and I wanted to simply lay down. But I might fall asleep and get caught up again.
I pressed my fingers into my temples, willing my heartbeat to slow, but it was racing, pounding, desperately with fear. Being weak wasn't a problem, I had become unstable. Enough to hurt others. Enough to hurt myself.
I sucked in a shaky breath. “So,” My voice was quieter than I wanted it to be. “ I’ll just keep hurting myself every time I sleep until one side wins?”
Abigail shook her head. “Not necessarily. Just think of them as two parts of a scale housing different energies that are constantly tipping each other off.“
I frowned, my spiraling slowing just enough for confusion to take root. “And how will that help?”
She met my eyes. “You need to learn to balance both sides. You need to be so absolute that they work as one, through you.”
Could I do it? Balance powerful sides of myself I had little to no control over and have them work as one.
I shifted once and ran away in the heat after it. I've been freezing up things at the call of almost every emotion, and since I was born, not much has gone my way. Control was the last thing I had.
Deep in my chest, like an answer awakening before I was ready for it, I heard it, A voice.
Not my own, not my doppelganger. Something more feral and menacing.
It whispered, amused, "Oh, little one, things are about to change for you.“