After The End, by lyradaemon
Chapter 10: Changing the Dream
Disclaimer: Same as before
Jaenelle awoke early the next morning after a restless night; she hadn't been able to get Daemon out of her head.
Making her way out of the Hall, she looked around. The snow – which had begun days ago – still fell heavily, coating everything in an ice-cold blanket. Jaenelle shivered; she wasn't wearing much, just an old jumper – to hide her growing bump, as much as anything, since the thought of her baby inevitably turned her mind back to Daemon - and some trousers she'd found in her wardrobe. Shaking off the heavy feeling settling in around her, she caught the winds and left.
She'd had her Twilight's Dawn for almost a year before she had even thought about riding the psychic winds. Daemon had worried that she wouldn't be able to use them since she didn't wear any of the thirteen coloured Jewels (while Twilight's Dawn was made up of each of them, she didn't possess any individual one), and so she couldn't catch a particular wind. But Jaenelle had already spoken to Lorn about it, and he – in his roundabout way – had reminded her of what she really was, a part of the Darkness itself, and that all she had to do was descend to that level and travel there. She still couldn't forget Daemon's wide-eyed disbelief when he had landed gracefully at the landing stage after her.
Jaenelle landed softly at the island inhabited by the Weaver of Dreams. Although she had been there many times before – most often as a child – she felt slightly apprehensive at this visit. After all, the last time she had been here was after she had risen from the healing webs. She shuddered.
Making her way slowly through the clearing, she felt the familiar tug of the psychic threads pull her towards the cave at the centre of the island. Witchlight glowed from small niches throughout the cave walls; Jaenelle slowly passed through the chambers, remembering the familiar route.
Suddenly she emerged into a cave where the light was golden and veiled; the floor stretched into the gloom and it was covered in-
Jaenelle reeled in horror. Covering the floor was a dark stain, one which filled the whole cave. Blood. Witch's Blood. Her Blood.
Revulsion gripped her and she retched, sobbing as the memories flooded her, filling her with horrific pain and agony and despair. She fell to the ground, clutching her heart, willing the images to leave, desperately gulping for air. And the blood shall sing to the Blood. And through the Blood.
How long she stayed there like that she couldn't say. Eventually the overwhelming ache receded slightly and she could breathe again. Raising her head slowly, she looked around. The golden light had thickened. All around her she could hear something; straining her ears, she realised what it was. Witchsong. It filled the air with it's haunting, captivating music. It was her song, her music.
Jaenelle stood up, feeling her muscles protest after being stiff for so long. Shaking off the dull sense of fear which had dogged her ever since setting foot on the island, she made her way slowly into the next cave.
Feelings of love, courage and stubborn determination swept over her as she entered. She could feel the lingering presence of kindred, long since gone; and through it she felt Ladvarian. No human could have believed as they had believed, she thought. Not even Daemon.
The thought of her strong, brave Warlord Prince filled her with determination. She took several more step forward, before stopping again in awe.
The tangled web that made her who she was covered one whole part of the chamber. The vastness of it simply took her breathe away. How many people dreamed that? She wondered.
More than you can know, a voice replied.
Jaenelle jumped. She must have spoken aloud. I didn't realise you were here, she said, stuttering slightly. I'm sorry for being so rude.
The voice laughed. You are not rude for coming to see the Web that makes you.
Jaenelle couldn't reply to that.
The large golden spider came into view. Hundreds of things make up this web. The wishes and longings of all those dreamers. Lifetimes of longings. Generations of wishes. All woven together to create one extraordinary woman capable of touching all the race in Kaeleer, human and kindred, giving them a way and a reason to connect with each other.
Jaenelle stared at the Arachnian Queen with awe. It still amazed her that this little – well, compared with her – spider could know so much. And understand so much too.
The spider spoke again. Why are you here, Jaenelle?
I have come to ask about the web.
The Queen scuttled forward. What do you wish to know?
Jaenelle paused, taking a deep breathe, before continuing. Can a dreamer un-dream? She asked.
Ah, the spider replied. You want to know if you can take away the strand Dreams Made Flesh dreamed herself. Jaenelle nodded. Why do you want to change it now? Are you not content with who you are?
Of course I am! I never wanted to have such vast power; I do not regret losing it. I am what I want to be.
So why do you wish to change? The spider asked again.
For Daemon, Jaenelle whispered. He is dying. I cannot save him, unless I use my power. My Ebony, the Jewels meant for the Queen of Ebon Askavi, for Kaeleer's Heart. I have to wield my power again, or I will lose Daemon.
Does the Warlord Prince mean that much to you? The Queen asked, but not unkindly.
Yes, Jaenelle replied simply, a single tear rolling down her cheek.
The spider sent out a psychic tendril of comfort and understanding. Then come with me.
Jaenelle followed the spider until she stood before three terrifyingly familiar strands that formed a single triangle. Father, brother, lover, she whispered, touching each in turn, feeling the familiar psychic scents from each of the people dearest to her heart.
Then she turned her attention to the one delicate thread which ran from the apex to the centre of the base. One fragile strand with a tiny bead of blood attached to it.
If I break it, will I be everything I was? Jaenelle asked, her eyes never leaving the thread.
Yes.
Jaenelle gazed at it; that tiny, fragile strand had been the difference between who she was, and who she wanted to be. It made her the ordinary person she had so desperately sought. It changed her from the terrifying Queen she had been, into the happy, content woman she was now.
She reached out slowly to touch the drop of blood; memories of what Saetan, Lucivar and Daemon had done in the abyss flooded her and she recoiled slightly, but didn't drop her touch. For so long now she had shuttered her mind from all thought of that terrible night when the backlash of her incredible power had almost destroyed her. But she needed to accept them, needed to face up to them in order to do what she had to do next.
Taking a deep, shuddering breathe, Jaenelle gently broke the strand which separated her past from her present.
All her previous strength rushed through her, drowning her in their darkness and power. She screamed and clutched her head, desperately trying to put her shields up, instinctively wanting to shut out the horrific onslaught, but the flood rushed on, crushing any resistance. The pressure on her mind increased, creating a terrible pain that gripped her and left her blind and breathless. She cried out – to anyone, everyone, to Saetan and Lucivar and her dear, beloved Daemon – calling for their help, their comfort, needing them to take away the pain.
Then, as suddenly as it started, the onslaught on her mind stopped. The flood ceased. Her eyes cleared and her lungs unclenched themselves. She took several gulping breaths, welcoming the cool, clear air.
Look inside yourself, the small voice whispered to her.
Jaenelle closed her eyes and descended.
There, so familiar yet so new, lay her power, her true strength, the testament to who she really was. The ocean of terrifying Jewelled strength which made her Witch. It was back.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't know why she was crying. Was it for all that she had lost – the normalness, the ordinariness which she had craved for so long? Or was it in welcoming relief that she finally had back that part of her she had given up so long ago, which she hadn't realised she missed?
It is truly what you wanted all along, the Queen said quietly. She understood; after all, she had known Jaenelle longer than almost anyone.
I know, Jaenelle replied, It's what I needed, more than anything else.
Embrace it, the spider urged. Do not resist it. You are Witch, and if Ebony Jewels are what you are meant to wear, then you must wear them. Accept who you are. You are loved because you are Witch – your Warlord Prince is proof of that. Do not deny them what they love.
Jaenelle wiped her eyes, with just a hint of a smile on her lips. I will do what you say. Thank you, Lady. You do not know what this means to me.
I know more than you think, she replied with a laugh. Now go and rescue your Prince. He needs you, and you need him. But remember – do not resist who you are. Embrace and accept it.
Thank you, Lady, Jaenelle said again, still oddly formal despite the years they'd known each other. And goodbye.
With that, Jaenelle left.
You were dreamed to be the protector of the Blood and all that was held dear. You denied who you were; you unleashed your strength and almost died. You dreamed to be different. And now you have taken back what you gave up. Who could have predicted this path for you, Witch? The Arachnian Queen shook her head. But you do it to save the one you love. And for that, the Darkness must bless you.
A/N: There we are. Nearing the end now…