Page 36 of Anomalies

LUCINA

The Diviner enclave is tucked in the dense forestry that surrounds the majority of Pirn, and by the time we get there, Lune Sylra already hangs in the sky. No other stars have joined her just yet, but she won’t be alone much longer.

Kimber leads the way, and Pax walks by my side. He’s been silent ever since Kimber explained to him that the Shadow Man is my second Velkan—a spirit that has bound himself to my life. And whoever he is, he’s not supposed to be here. He’s a soul that should be repenting in Pyra, but instead… he’s latched on to me.

Switching cabins isn’t an option.

The dirt path into the woods fades into a smooth pebble walkway, and my mouth falls open when I look at the canopy of trees above us. There’s a system of treehouses woven through the tall forest—wooden hovels, like the ones Gemma and I live in. They’ve been meticulously suspended between long tree branches, the highest of them nearly thirty feet off the ground.

Each round structure is fitted with a pointed roof, colorful swirls and whirls adorning the curved wooden walls, illuminated entirely by tiny orbs of amber light flitting through the trees. Everything is connected by long wooden bridges, thin posts on either end with frayed ropes as railings.

“You live here?” I ask Kimber, completely in awe.

Only the highest-ranked members of each coven live in their respective quarters, but others, like Gemma and I, live in the main lodging area on the western side of camp. Kimber is the granddaughter of Pa, the Solian Nyrith, a term she explained meant Memory Holder or Story Keeper. He’s the leader of the Diviner Coven, which meant one day that title would be hers.

Kimber nods, hooking her thumb into the strap of her green corduroy bag. “Ever since I was three.”

She leads us to a set of stairs that spiral up the base of the largest tree. It’s nothing but long, narrow slabs of pine wood that have been nailed into the rough bark—no railing. I stay close to the trunk as we climb it.

“Wait out here,” Kimber orders Pax, a Disciple-born who’s ranked higher, even with her being the heir to the Nyrith. But surprisingly, he listens.

Pax positions himself beside the large wooden door that Kimber has stopped us in front of, then she promptly wraps her knuckles against it. There’s a quiet shuffle on the other side of the wood, then a soft scrape of a cane across the floor, and the hinges on the door creak as it opens.

Pa stands in the threshold wearing robes of the deepest purple, back hunched with all his weight resting against his cane. “She who dreams,” he says to me in greeting, then his foggy emerald eyes slide to Kimber. “You look worried, Mouse. Tea?”

Kimber nods, “Pa, we have a problem.” She yanks me inside with her, and the door shuts behind us.

Pa’s straggly silver beard is thin and tangle-free, shifting as he tilts his head to the side. “What kind of problem, Mouse?” he asks. I glance around the space, noticing a tea kettle on the table, three cups already set out around it. As if he knew⁠—

“She who dreams,” Pa says, loud enough to pull my attention. He gestures to the chair opposite the one Kimber has sunk into. “Sit.”

The legs of the chair scrape the wood as I pull it from the table, and Pa waits until I’m seated before lowering himself into the chair beside mine. “Thank you,” I tell Kimber when she slides a steaming cup into my hands.

“The problem,” she starts, watching Pa warily, “is that Lucina has a Velkan that is dream-weaving.”

“Dream what?” My brows shoot up to my hairline, a spark of fear running through me.

“Dream-weaving,” Pa starts, a silver brow raised at his granddaughter, “is a tactic that Velkan spirits use to communicate with their living host. It’s rarely practiced due to the toll it takes on them, but essentially, your Velkan is weaving his memories into your dreams to get your attention.”

My throat tightens. “So, my dreams are⁠—”

“His memories,” Kimber sighs. “From when he was alive.”

Holy gods. The symphony of coughs, the echoes of hurried footsteps on stone, his voice, and a woman’s voice—it’s one of my Velkan’s memories. But why is he showing it to me?

Pa turns to face me, both of his wrinkled hands folded in his lap. “Velkan’s don’t risk the toll that dream-weaving takes, unless there is an important message to get across. But you don’t understand the memories, do you?”

I shake my head. It’s hard to understand anything when I can’t see. I’m forced to rely on sound, and the dreams—or memories– aren’t long enough for me to gather much of anything.

“You will.” Pa smiles softly. “You, she who dreams, are a thread of fire different from all the other flames around it. You’ve always been that way.”

My gaze cuts to Kimber, who is staring intently into the steaming surface of her tea.

“Who is he?” I ask, and her eyes lift to mine.

“I don’t know. Velkan’s have more…liberties…than other spirits. He controls who sees him fully. I can feel him, but he won’t show himself to me. I was hoping that Pa⁠—”

Pa is already staring in my direction, glassy eyes trailing the space above my shoulders. “Normally, I can see them, Mouse,” he tells Kimber. “But not this one.”