Dream
It was darker than a moonless night. No silvery star glow, no flicker of fire. Marinette was trapped in a haze of black that left her blind even to the outline of her hands. She shuffled through the narrow passage, sliding her palm along the wall. It seemed to go up and up, twisting, and grazed her skin like the gritty caress of pumice. The air tasted of earth: moist, deep, like a heady perfume tinged with rot. Aside from her own breathing, the only sound that disturbed the stillness was a quiet ba-thump, ba-thump. Not her heartbeat. This was something else.
Shivers crawled over her arms and neck, stirring the fine hairs. She swallowed and continued deeper, almost stumbling when the ground sloped sharply. The earthy perfume got stronger. The pulsing beat got louder, thundering through her bones.
Ba-thump. Ba-thump.
It was as if each beat was shaping into an invisible force and pressing down on her. But it didn't hurt. It just made her body tingle and her heart pound, jarring the rhythm with its own skittery song.
A sliver of light gleamed in the distance.
She walked faster and faster. Things took shape from the shadows: the narrow, curved walls that boxed her in; the chamber that glowed up ahead, reddish pink like a sunset. It made her pause. Hesitate.
Wood. Everything was made of wood.
Her throat felt sticky and clogged. She swallowed against the unpleasant sensations, still hesitating on the edge of the light.
Ba-thump, Ba-thump.
The pulsing beat was so loud now that she couldn't separate it from her body. It tugged at her. Called her.
Marinette stepped back into the shadows, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "No," she whispered. "This is—"
oOo
Her eyes snapped open. The room was dark, but at least it was her room.
She licked her dry, cracked lips. Her heart was still pounding too fast, and cold sweat had left her clammy and chilled. She huddled into Cat, grateful for his warm presence. He made a sleepy sound and shifted his arm so she could curl against him more comfortably.
"Sorry," she whispered. "Did I wake you?"
"It's fine."
Her fingers played with his collar. "I had a weird dream."
"Oh?"
"I think I was inside that tree."
He nuzzled into her hair, pressing a sleepy kiss to her head. "It was just a dream, Marinette."
"Right …"
Of course it was just a dream. Of course it meant nothing.
She closed her eyes and tried not to think of narrow, wooden passages or pulsing beats. When she fell asleep, however, she found herself right back in the tree's dark embrace.
oOo
"You sure you're up for this?" Cat asked, frowning as he leaned on his staff. "We can take a break today if—"
"I'm fine." Marinette shifted into the fighting stance. "Let's do this."
He nodded. There was no signal to start the fight. A real one didn't have such luxuries. He simply lunged, her instincts reacted, and then she was holding her staff up horizontally with two hands as his slammed against it. The force pushed her back. She rode the momentum, swinging for a counterattack.
Clack!
Their staffs met again. Her arms trembled as she tried to hold him off. His lips twitched.
"You sure you want to get into a battle of strength with me?" he asked.
"Who said I was?"
His eyebrow rose.
In a flash, she wrenched herself free of the deadlock and grabbed his belt, sliding between his legs and looping the leather around one of his ankles as she went. Then she tugged. Hard.
Thunk!
His back smacked the ground, black tunic fluttering open. She was on him in an instant, staff pressed to his neck, her chest heaving.
"You lose," she said.
He lay there for a moment, stunned, and then he laughed. "Well done, Marinette. Not the tactic I was expecting, but it worked."
She removed her staff from his neck. "I knew I'd never get you down if I relied on the moves you taught me. You still have the advantage in strength and experience."
"Spoken like a true warrior. Understanding your limitations and how to compensate for them is the best skill you could have."
The smile he gave her stirred butterflies and shy coils of warmth. Or maybe that was because she was still straddling his hips, and he didn't seem to mind lying there underneath her with his hair dishevelled and his chest bare. She couldn't stop staring.
She should probably stop staring.
Heat grazed her cheeks and she scrambled off him, coughing to clear her throat. "W-well, now that I've won, what next?"
He sat up. "Now you try with a real weapon."
The black staff materialised in his fingers, gleaming like onyx. He held it out to her. It was smooth metal and hummed with the promise of magic. It was also light. She gave it a few test swings, impressed with how easily it glided through the air.
"I can't give you the actual power of a god like my father can, but that"—he nodded at the staff—"will make it possible for you to fight one if you're smart." The warmth in his eyes suggested that he did not think this would be a problem for her. "It's imbued with extra strength, you can make it longer or shorter if you wish, and it's flexible."
"How do I change the size?"
He talked her through how to use the staff, then tossed away the wooden one he'd been holding and took up a fighting stance.
"Now," he said, "let's see how you fare when I'm fighting with no weapon."
"Shouldn't it be easier for me?"
He wiggled his fingers. "I still have claws."
It was the silliest thing he'd ever said, and it had her laughing.
"What?" he said, affronted.
"Alright, kitty." Her lips curved. "Show me what you can do with your claws."
oOo
Night came too quickly. The tree waited in the courtyard, twisted like a gnarled creature with its spindly branches clawing for leaves. Her heart thumped and thumped. She could still remember the dream—the haze of darkness, the pulsing beat. If she touched the trunk, she'd feel it again. The life she had granted. The life that called back to her.
"Why are you just standing there?" Hawkmoth asked. "We do not have all night."
She approached slowly, touching the grey-tinged bark with hesitant fingers. The tree hummed as if greeting an old friend. Her skin prickled. It was more awake tonight. More … sentient. Not that it made her happy to see her efforts were working. Something about this tree just unsettled her, like it could see right through her walls of bone and flesh to the soul within.
"Is it the goddess trapped inside that makes the tree so aware?" she asked.
Hawkmoth raised his eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
She shook her head, not wanting to explain. He kept too many secrets and did not have her best interests at heart. She could not trust him.
Biting back a sigh, she called upon the magic and let it flow from her, let the pinkish glow bloom free like a misty rose. Every drop of healing life that flowed into the tree was a theft of her energy, but she had to go along with Hawkmoth's plan. At least for now. This was the only way to gain time—to get stronger, to learn more about the goddess and the tree. More importantly, she needed time to figure out how to free Cat from his father's clutches.
I will save him, she thought grimly. No matter what it takes.