The fog curled around Lamora's bare feet, snaking in an eerily unnatural
way. It seemed to be whispering to her, convincing her weakened mind to go
forward. Her feeble conscious gave in and let her stumble on, deeper into
the fog. Fear clutched Lamora's very essence; something horrible was about
to happen, she knew it. A peculiar smell reached her nostrils, nothing like
she had encountered before. Not Free Magic, nor Death, but something.old.
And still, her mind succumbed to the power that seized her, and she walked
on.
She saw a figure of humanlike form drawing near, but it was ghostly, unlike flesh of person. The figure was dark, except for what appeared to be the head, which seemed to be a shining gold. As Lamora walked closer, it spoke.
"Lamora," it hoarsely whispered. "Lamora, come with me. You and I are one. We have always been one. Retreat not, Lamora, for I will find you.if you do not find me." the shadowy being trailed off.
Lamora stood, petrified, as a dark chill crept into her. A thousand meaningless thoughts raced through her mind, but they were not hers; the entity seemed to be transferring messages through her mind, but they hadn't arranged themselves to something comprehensive. Lamora tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn't comply and the figure was retreating into the mist.
Lamora gasped and abruptly jerked her eyes open, relieved to see the heavy velvet canopy above her bed. The rooms of the Abhorsen's house were luxurious, and the sendings were always accommodating. Trying to slow her breathing, and miserably failing, she carefully sat up and pulled off the covers. She could hear her mother rustling around in the next room, and finally relaxed.
For six weeks, since her fourteenth birthday, had Lamora been disturbed with these nightmares. Each time they invaded her peaceful rest, they became longer, more complex and more real. Afraid to say anything to her mother, the Abhorsen, for sometimes the spectral creature of her dream threatened her if she did so.
Lamora pulled on some comfortable clothes and sat back down to muse over her circumstances. Something has to be done, she thought, I cannot give up my sleep to tormenting creatures that might not exist. Lamora's firmness startled herself, for often she was unsure of decisions she made, always looking towards her parents for insight. But Lamora was proud, because leadership was a quality an Abhorsen must have and her training would begin shortly.
"The library," she said to herself. Answers always were sure to come from there. But what did she have? Shining heads? Odors of times long past? These were not enough to discover the knowledge she needed. Dreams, she grinned, I'll start with dreams.
When she finally reached the library, she sat down, gawking at the massive collection of books.
"Looking for anything in particular?" a bored tone, with a hint of sarcasm asked. Mogget. He would know something, she thought.
She saw a figure of humanlike form drawing near, but it was ghostly, unlike flesh of person. The figure was dark, except for what appeared to be the head, which seemed to be a shining gold. As Lamora walked closer, it spoke.
"Lamora," it hoarsely whispered. "Lamora, come with me. You and I are one. We have always been one. Retreat not, Lamora, for I will find you.if you do not find me." the shadowy being trailed off.
Lamora stood, petrified, as a dark chill crept into her. A thousand meaningless thoughts raced through her mind, but they were not hers; the entity seemed to be transferring messages through her mind, but they hadn't arranged themselves to something comprehensive. Lamora tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn't comply and the figure was retreating into the mist.
Lamora gasped and abruptly jerked her eyes open, relieved to see the heavy velvet canopy above her bed. The rooms of the Abhorsen's house were luxurious, and the sendings were always accommodating. Trying to slow her breathing, and miserably failing, she carefully sat up and pulled off the covers. She could hear her mother rustling around in the next room, and finally relaxed.
For six weeks, since her fourteenth birthday, had Lamora been disturbed with these nightmares. Each time they invaded her peaceful rest, they became longer, more complex and more real. Afraid to say anything to her mother, the Abhorsen, for sometimes the spectral creature of her dream threatened her if she did so.
Lamora pulled on some comfortable clothes and sat back down to muse over her circumstances. Something has to be done, she thought, I cannot give up my sleep to tormenting creatures that might not exist. Lamora's firmness startled herself, for often she was unsure of decisions she made, always looking towards her parents for insight. But Lamora was proud, because leadership was a quality an Abhorsen must have and her training would begin shortly.
"The library," she said to herself. Answers always were sure to come from there. But what did she have? Shining heads? Odors of times long past? These were not enough to discover the knowledge she needed. Dreams, she grinned, I'll start with dreams.
When she finally reached the library, she sat down, gawking at the massive collection of books.
"Looking for anything in particular?" a bored tone, with a hint of sarcasm asked. Mogget. He would know something, she thought.