Page 17 of Dark Destiny: A New Thread in the Tapestry

"There," she said quietly. "You have it back. When your fingers fill out, we will put it where it belongs. The other two rings can wait. I will keep them safe for you."

Khiann did not wake or even stir, completely unaware of the moment's significance.

The circle that had been interrupted was now closed. At least in her mind. It might be imperfect, it might require a lot of work, but it was no longer broken.

6

KHIANN

He was in the garden. He did not arrive at it but was simply there, standing between two rows of green plants that gave off a sharp, clean scent when the air stirred. Vegetables, and beyond them flowers, and beyond those, trees.

He knew the things in the garden by sight, but not by name. He knew the colors, but could not name them either. His hands appeared solid when he held them up, and there was even dirt under one nail, which was a surprisingly realistic detail for hands that belonged to a spectral body.

When he lowered them, he could not tell whether they were still there.

That was how these strange dreams worked, as he had learned from the one with the carriages and the petals falling from the roofs. Some crucial details were always missing, so even though he could make sense of the dreams, he was always left with unanswered questions.

There was a house behind him, with a green kitchen door that stood open, and a woman walked out, but she did not live in that house. She was a visitor. He was not sure how he knew that, but it was a certainty he did not feel the need to argue with.

The woman was very small, wearing something shapeless and brown. The fabric looked coarse, and dirt lined the hem where it had dragged on the ground because it was too long for her small frame. Her hair was covered with the same ugly brown fabric, marking her as a servant, but her disguise did not fool him. Whatever the cloth did not cover was emitting a glow so bright that it illuminated the path ahead of her.

She walked toward him in her servant's garb, glowing like a lamp, and behind her in the kitchen an old man stood at a table with a large wooden spoon in his hand.

He did not see the glow because his eyes were covered in a white film, which explained why he was not bowing to the goddess passing through his kitchen, and why she was not bothering to dim her glow despite hiding behind a servant's disguise. She knew the human cook could not see her, and there was no one in the garden she felt the need to hide her identity from.

A second woman came out after her, and she was twice the size of the little one, but she did not glow, and she looked frightened.

He could smell her fear, sour and green. She stopped at the door, not because she wanted to, but because something was holding her back, and as the door began to close on her, she stood in the narrowing gap, with worry on her face.

He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she should not be afraid and that everything would turn out all right, but he realized that even if she could see him, he could not know whether his words were true.

He was a ghost in this dream, a spectator in someone else's life, and he did not know how it was going to unfold.

The small, glowing woman strolled through the garden, and he walked beside her, but she did not see him or even sense him. She kept going, and as she passed the vegetables and then the flowers, the smell shifted from sharp to sweet to something that did not belong outdoors.

Incense.

Someone was burning incense in the garden. It didn’t make any sense, but it was just a dream, so he chose to ignore the oddity in favor of watching the little goddess. He was absolutely absorbed in her.

Somewhere ahead was a bench of pale stone, sitting under one of the trees that had only leaves and no fruit, but no matter how long he and the little goddess walked, they were not getting any closer to it.

A young man appeared next to the bench, materializing out of thin air. His face was turned away, but something about him felt familiar.

As he appeared, the distance collapsed, and they were standing beside him.

The goddess sat down on the bench, but the young man did not, and they began to argue.

He could hear their voices but not the words. He caught pieces. He caught the word 'war,' which he understood, and something about a father, and something about a bad promise that had been made. The young man tried to sound reasonable, but the goddess would not listen.

“You are too tall for me to reach. If I am to kiss you, you need to sit down.”

The young man’s bottom dropped on the bench before she finished her sentence.

She approached him, sat on his lap, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I think this will work.” Pulling on his neck, she brought his head down.

“Command me to kiss you,” the young god said.

“Khiann son of Navohn, I command you to kiss me.”