Page 127 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“A dream,” he whispers as I crouch beside his chair.

“Have you explored the library?”

“Oh, yes. It’s a little bit of heaven. Such a collection. I don’t think I’ve even explored half of it.”

“What about books on medicine? On healing. Have you seen anything like that?”

He considers this, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Medicine…yes. Through the second arch, I think.” He gestures vaguely toward the far side of the room. “Or maybe the third? The dreams are all mixed up sometimes.”

“Thank you.” I squeeze his hand. “I’ll come back soon. We’ll talk more then. I promise.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart.” His smile is peaceful, content. “This is a dream I’m happy to stay lost in. You go ahead. I’ll pass the time chatting with your mother.”

My heart twists. I’m glad he’s not scared, not suffering. But the fact that he’s so detached from reality that he thinks I’m just another dream and my dead mother is with him… Well, that breaks something in me.

But I can’t think about that now. All that matters is Chase.

“I love you,” I whisper, then I’m up and running toward the arches he indicated.

I pass through the first arch and keep going, my heart hammering. The second arch opens into a circular room that takes my breath away. Shelves line the walls from floor to ceiling, curving around in an unbroken circle. There must be thousands of books here, maybe tens of thousands, all of them ancient and strange.

I stop in the center of the room and turn slowly, overwhelmed. There’s no order I can see, no system. The spines are marked in dozens of languages, some glowing faintly with symbols I don’t recognize. How am I supposed to find anything in here?

I start walking along the perimeter, my eyes scanning titles I can’t read. My hands trail along the spines as I pass, and that’s when I notice it—the ring on my finger is warm.

Not burning, just…noticeable.

I stop walking and take five steps back, away from the shelves. The warmth fades slightly. I take a step forward, and it grows warmer again.

It’s guiding me.

I close my eyes and hold my hand out like a divining rod, thinking of Chase and begging for the cure as I turn slowly, waiting for the heat to intensify. It does, and I walk in that direction, following the warmth as it pulses and grows until I’m standing before a section of shelves that look older than the rest, the leather bindings cracked and faded.

But which book?

I draw a breath, thinking again of the garden I made with Adric. About pulling what I desired up through the earth.

This time, I just need a little wiggle. A simple sign.

Even as I think that, a thin clothbound book slides out, as if an invisible hand were tugging it off the shelf.

I reach for the book, pulling it free as the ring pulses heat against my skin.

Please. Please be the cure.

I put the book on a reading table, then press my hand to it, whispering that I need the cure. Beneath my skin, the book seems to tremble, as if working hard to keep a wild energy contained, an analogy that seems even more accurate a moment later when I pull my hand away and the pages flip of their own accord, finally stopping on a page written in an ornate calligraphy in an alphabet and language I can’t read at all.

“English,” I say, striving to make the word an order, not a request.

To my shock and delight, the words shimmer, and I watch, transfixed, as the letters slide and shift and rearrange themselves like living things. They flow across the page, reforming into shapes I recognize, words I can read. The transformation spreads from the top of the page to the bottom, and then it’s done.

English. Clear and simple and devastating.

I look down and read.

My breath catches. My vision blurs with tears. This is it. This is how I save him.

And with the book held tight in my hand, I bolt out of the library with hope paving my way…but the horrible knowledge of what I must acquire hanging over me like a sword.