For what seemed like the fifth time this week, Len had the dream.
As soon as he had shut his eyes in the real world, he was transported to the center of his mind. He was fully dressed, and standing in the center of what looked like a blank canvas. Above him, below him, and all around him, there was nothing but pure white. He tried to move, to walk forward and find a spot of color, but he found himself unable to step forward. Frustrated, he stood there, silently waiting for the dream to pass control over to him, as it eventually did.
For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then his keen ears picked up on the faint sound of wind whistling by him. But there was something more this time, something sweet and melodious that touched upon his ears. Somebody was singing.
He knew that voice. But why? How? The only people Len ever spoke to outside of home were the merchants and craftsmen he bought goods from.
"Hello?" Len raised his voice. Finding himself able to move, he took a few steps forward and turned around, keeping his gaze level. "Is someone there?"
A soft giggle behind him. He couldn't see anyone else beside him, but he was sure that he was not alone. He could sense it. "Show yourself! I know you're here, I can hear you!"
The air shimmered around him with an unreal, sparkling quality. His dream shifted, and he found himself standing in a cave, illuminated by moonlight. Water dripped off crevices in the wall, every splash echoing in the unnatural silence. To the east of him, there was a tunnel leading further into the cavern.
Now, the dream passed control over to him. Finally able to move, Len took a few careful steps forward and scanned the entire room. His eyes fell on a row of thin white lines scratched into the wall closest to him. Turning, he rested a gloved hand on top of the rock and leaned forward for a closer look. They looked like a crude calendar of sorts, a line slashed through every fifth scratch. To his amazement, it looked like the creator had been here for over ten years. How had they created so many marks? With their nails? Len shuddered at the image of someone dragging their nails across the surface.
The singing started up from where it left off. Drifting up from the eastern tunnel was the seraphic voice of a young girl. Upon hearing her, Len recoiled from the wall and turned to face the entrance of the tunnel. He couldn't explain why the voice evoked such memories in him, as it always did. But he knew it was his duty to find the singer. As he had every other night the dream came to him, he started to follow the source of the voice.
It was darker, much darker in here. The moonlight had been left behind, and Len's eyes had not adjusted. He blindly stumbled down the tunnel, relying on the girl's voice as a guide. After a couple of minutes, the path had taken a drastic slope downwards. Len had almost stumbled and fallen, grabbing onto a jutting rock for support.
After a long, silent tread, Len could see light at the end of the tunnel. He quickly sped up his walk into a jog. The voice was closer now, and as he stopped at the end of the tunnel, he saw there was a girl standing in the center of the eastern cave, staring up at the roof.
She looked eeriely similar to Len, in terms of appearance. She had the same golden-blonde hair, worn short, and the same fair skin tone. She was wearing a short, frilly white dress, lined with pink at the very bottom. This girl was lovely, no doubt- but that didn't explain why she seemed so familiar.
Her back was turned away from Len, and she appeared not to have heard him run in. All her attention was focused on her hand. She appeared to be holding something, her fingers curling indecisively around the object.
Len kept close to the wall and the shadows, a bit wary of how to proceed. As soon as one foot stepped out of the tunnel, the girl spun around. Her big blue eyes widened, a startled look passing over her face. The object she was holding dropped from her hand, hitting the ground with a metallic clatter.
Quickly, Len stepped forwards, his hands upturned in a sign of peace. He didn't want to scare her, yet he didn't know how to explain. As he was racking his brain for a suitable alibi, he happened to notice the dropped object. Curious, he bent down and lifted it up by the dark rope it was attached to. His brow furrowed, and suddenly lifted with cold recognition. Hanging off the end of the rope was a treble clef, akin to the bass clef that hung around Len's own neck.
He lifted his head, his mouth dry. Just as he was about to ask, the girl had materialized in front of him. She gripped both of Len's shoulders and started hauling him back into the tunnel.
"What do you think you're doing in this place?!" she hissed, casting a furtive look over her shoulder.
Len recovered from his shock long enough to struggle. The girl was a lot stronger than her slender frame suggested. Nonetheless, he threw her hands off and stepped back. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Where did you get that necklace?"
"There's no time! I can't explain! You have to get out, now, before he sees us!" The girl tried to shove him back farther into the tunnel, but this time Len was prepared. He caught both her pale wrists, holding her back firmly.
"I'm not leaving until I get answers. Just who are you? Why do you have the same necklace my mother gave me?" To prove his point, he let go of one wrist and reached into the inside of his tunic. He brought out the bass clef for the girl to see.
If this was any surprise to the blonde girl, she did show it. She seemed more preoccupied with glancing over her shoulder, as if she was expecting someone else to enter. "I know you must be confused right now, but you have to wake up." Wake up? She knew he was dreaming? "You'll find out everything soon enough, I promise you that. Wake up, Len. No harm will come to you if you wake up! Just remember-"
An earsplitting roar drowned out the rest of her words, and a heavy wall of darkness slammed into Len. He lost his breath and began to fall backwards, farther and farther away from the blonde girl who was now above him. Her hand was outstretched, and her lips kept moving, but Len could hear nothing.
Then he closed his eyes, and everything went dark.
His eyes shot open, catching the glare of the morning sun full-force. He winced, turning his head away from the window and throwing one arm over his eyes. He was tangled up in the sheets of his bed, the coverlet kicked back onto the floor.
Sitting upright, he glanced down at his left hand, which was clenched into a tight fist. Slowly, he opened it, half-expecting the girl's treble necklace to be lying there. But it was only his bass clef, which he had held tightly during his sleep. It left a red imprint in his palm. Letting go of it, he turned slightly to face the window.
He had been dreaming about everything- the girl, the cavern, the melodious voice- ever since he had just been a little boy. This was the first night he had actually spoken to the girl, but the dream had otherwise gone along its usual path. When the dreams had first started at age seven, Len would often stay huddled in the shadows of the eastern tunnel and watch the little blonde girl. Often she was dancing and singing for an unknown being, which Len could hear, but never see. But sometimes she would just stand there, silently, gazing at nothing. Once Len had seen her crying. When he had woken up the next morning, he found his own cheeks wet with tears.
What confused him was the memories that the girl seemed to bring up from his subconscious. It wasn't just because of her voice, angelic as it was. Everything about her- her appearance, the way she would often smile while singing, and especially that necklace- made Len feel like he knew her, one way or another. It was so confusing. Len already had enough to worry about, what with turning fourteen today. He didn't need to worry about some cryptic message a girl given him in his sleep.
Swinging both legs over the side of the mattress, he decided it wasn't worth worrying about. Especially not today. He stood up, untangling the sheets from around himself, and walked to where his clothes lay in a pile. Pulling out what was necessary for the cold morning, he got dressed and walked to the windowsill. He rested both elbows on the wooden ledge and leaned out, peering up at the sky. He knew Neru hated to be kept waiting, and would probably be in a passion by the time he met up with her in the village. But as he looked back down at the bass clef hanging around his throat, his thoughts couldn't help wandering back to the cavern.
Who are you, girl of the shadows?
