Brin's pulse pounded in his ears. Despite the fact that [Know What's Real] made Brin absolutely certain that this was a dream, he'd never felt more strongly connected with his body. His pulse thrummed with heated anger, and disgust. This was her, the one who'd spent all those months torturing him. The one who'd ruined his lessons with Lumina, making him so tired during her lessons that he'd barely been able to stay awake. The one who'd made him relive every single painful memory from his darkest days over and over, trying to break him.

Now she'd waltzed back into his mind and hugged him. To make it worse, part of him felt better. He'd needed a hug like this. How touch-starved was he if a hug from his psychopathic torturer actually sort of helped?

He pushed her away, violently, or tried to, but his body made a simple separation. Right, he wasn't in full control here. He wasn't in control at all. Every dream he'd had until now had been guided by her completely. He hadn't been able to control his body or even his emotions, only his mind had been left to him, and that was only because of [Know What's Real]. Should he just wake up now? No. He needed answers.

Brin looked down at his fist. He unclenched his hand and clenched it again. So he did have some control over his body. He tried to swing a punch into her jaw, but his arm didn't even twitch.

She smirked at him. "Look at you! How big you've grown!"

It might've been the toxic, burning anger messing with his head but Brin couldn't stand it. He made a decision. "No. Aberthol is dead."

"Hm, no, that isn't true. Aberthol is standing before me now, in a manner of speaking."

Brin shook his head. "You don't get it. Your son, Aberthol, he died. The gods put my soul in his body, but he's gone. Moved on. He got a choice and he decided to move on, rather than to keep living in a world with you in it."

She kept smiling. She didn't get it yet, but she would. He'd make her see, and couldn't help but grin as he imagined that confidence turned to shock and then despair once she realized that the Mother's Knot, her death, and her work all this time had been for nothing.

Aberfa put a hand to her mouth and giggled. "I have to say, you've changed a bit since last we were together and not altogether for the worse."

"You're not getting it," said Brin. "We've never met before! Aberthol is dead."

Aberfa rolled her eyes. "Am I the one misunderstanding something? Come now. I've been here in your head all this time. You think I don't know about your... rearrangement? No. I knew. I knew right away, of course I did. I'm your mother."

"If you knew, then you know you're not my mother! You're..." Brin was at a loss for words. This wasn't going at all like he'd expected.

She grabbed his hand in both or hers, and he yanked it away. She said, "It's not about souls. It's about bodies."

The dream changed and they were kneeling on the floor in a plush and comfortable room, small and circular with stone walls, but covered with pillows and stacks of books scattered randomly.

She took his hand again, and he was powerless to pull it away.

"Stop it!" he growled.

"No. Now, you seem to be confused about something, so let me explain. I never claimed to be the mother of your soul. Witches, you'll understand, are the most pious of women, because out of all people, we're the ones who are most careful to never take something we don't deserve. If there is such a thing as a soul, some primal essence that existed before you were born and continues after you die, then I had nothing to do with it. That belongs to the gods and them alone. No, I birthed your body. I bore you for nine months and delivered you in terrible pain, and suckled you to my breast. I suppose you are correct about one thing. This is the first time we are meeting, after a manner of speaking. Hello Aberthol. I am your mother."

Brin stood and paced, though there wasn't much space for it amid the pillows and stacks of books. He'd call it a cozy space, if he'd been in the mood for that. Right now he just wanted to move, and he didn't seem to be able to attack her, so that meant pacing. "And you think that gives you the right to show up here as if nothing is wrong? You tortured me for months with nightmares!"

"A valuable learning experience, which you squandered."

"You sent monsters to try to kill me!" Brin yelled.

"You love fighting monsters, don't lie."

"You killed Bowers."

"Don't pretend you care about that."

He wanted to explode. The way she calmly sat there, not rising to his anger at all and giving her insane answers as if they were perfectly reasonable made him want to break something. "Why? Why won't you leave me alone?"

Aberfa sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. "This pure, passionate emotion. Intoxicating."

Brin bit back a yelled reply. Was she doing something to his emotions? They were really his, he could tell, but she might be amplifying them. Increasing his anger while suppressing his natural instinct to stay calm and think things through.

He needed to be more careful here. He needed information, and as long as she was willing to talk, he should take advantage of that.

Brin glowered at her. "How are you even here? Cadwy told me you were on your way to torture and death. Don't tell me Arcaena forgave you?"

Aberfa's expression froze. "She did not." Then she softened again. "She compelled me to craft my own prison. But we can discuss that more later."

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"What do you want?"

"What any mother wants. I want to be here. I want to be part of your life. To witness your triumphs and failures, your laughter and tears. To guide you on the right path. I want to help you. I can teach you. Weren't you wondering why that Glasser was able to wrest that bowl away from you? I'll show you. Your new Skill, [Know What's Wyrd], you're using it a as a [Witch]-detector, but it could be so much more! I will teach you. Aren't you curious about what secrets a high lady of Arcaena might divulge? Secrets that might aid your new home kingdom? I will give them to you."

Brin didn't want to spend even a second longer with this woman than he had to, but at the same time... secrets. He couldn't deny that he wouldn't mind picking her brain if she was willing to talk. "What would you want in return?"

"Why are we talking of bargains? I will do this because I want to! That's what I'm trying to tell you. I want to help you, Aberthol."

"It's Brin now."

"No. It's Aberthol. Which reminds me. If this is going to work, I must set certain expectations. I will be treated with the respect with which I am owed. You will show proper deference while we are together. If this is impossible for you, then we will go back to doing what we were doing before."

Brin stood. "You--!"

Aberfa held up a hand. "Take some time to think it over. As much time as you need."

The floor fell out beneath him, and he dropped into hell.

Monsters made of shadow and bone reached out at him as he fell, grabbing at him with hooked claws that tore away gouges of skin. It was blisteringly hot and the air was acidic and stung his new wounds. His emotions in this dream so far had tended towards the Scarred One, but he had none of the pain resistance from that Class, so he felt everything. Worse was the dread, the painful stinging fear of knowing that he was still falling; he was headed down and when he got to the bottom it would be worse.

[Know What’s Real] was a faint protection. He briefly considered trying to tough it out and get at least an hour or two of sleep.

No. Screw this.

He woke up.

He gasped and sat up at the sudden release of pain. He’d call it a relief, but the pain hadn’t been real and the fear lingered, the way it did when you woke up from a nightmare. He took a moment to clear his head.

Marksi scampered out of his bedroom and rocketed into Brin’s arms. He stroked his ridges, thankful for the contact.

“Tell me,” said Hogg.

So Brin did. He recited the entire conversation, using Memories in Glass to make sure that he recited everything word for word in the parts where he was unsure.

By the end, Hogg was pacing and fuming, amusingly similar to how Brin had been acting in the dream. “Unbelievable, this lady. Who does she think she is? We’ll get her, Brin. Don’t you worry about that. I’m going to kill this witch.”

“Thanks.”

“She’s a monster, she’s got to be. Somehow she found a way to turn into a monster but keep her sanity. That’s how she’s doing all this without setting off your [Know What’s Wyrd]. The simpler explanation really was correct; we’ve got to find a monster. She probably specializes in stealth, which is how she’s been working under our noses this whole time.”

“So she’s been hanging out nearby, with you and Lumina in the house? I just don’t buy that.”

“I’m not as good at sniffing out spies as I used to be, and I don’t know if Lumina even bothers,” said Hogg. “But you’re right. It is a little far-fetched. Maybe her range increases if she knows her target? She crafted her own prison, she said. Sounds like Arcaena forced her to become a monster, but left her free to choose what kind, and what kind of powers she would have. Looks like she wanted the power to contact you.”

“Why, though?”

“What mother wouldn’t–”

“Do not call her my mother,” Brin cut in.

Hogg held up a hand in apology. “Sorry. You’re right. But that’s probably the reason. She wants things to go back to the way it was between her and Aberthol. Which isn’t you, just to be clear.”

“Sorry. I’m tired. And it looks like I’m going to be tired for a long time,” said Brin. He leaned his head back against the wall. It was too soon for despair, but man he was tired, and this was just getting started.

“I don’t see why,” said Hogg.

“Because… oh, she can’t get to me in that enchanted bed. But that’s just for tonight. After this, we have to move on,” said Brin.

“I’ll interrogate the staff and see if I can get a copy of whatever enchantment they’re using. If not… I don’t know. We can steal the bed. Or buy it.”

“You’re right. We’ve already found the solution.” Brin felt his shoulders unknot themselves in relief. “I don’t have to endure her nightmares anymore. But don’t you think I should learn from her? She knows stuff about Arcaena. Don’t I have a duty to the country or something?”

“Burn duty!” Hogg said. “This is an opportunity! Think about it. This psycho had an education comparable to Lumina’s. She’s like an anti-Lumina with no morals who’s willing to teach you the really messed up stuff. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but if I were in your shoes I’d be on that offer faster than a Kukubaru on a fresh baked brown snake.”

Brin laughed, but it came out a little bitter. “I don’t know about that. You haven’t been through these nightmares. She’s vicious.”

“I’m not saying you endure the nightmares, just the opposite. Never let her drop you into one of those ever again. If she starts in with that, then you wake up immediately.”

Brin shook his head. “She’ll never teach me if I don’t play her game.”

“Yes, she will. Let me tell you something about abusers, Brin. They can be charming when they need to be. You give her the cold shoulder for a week or two, and she’ll be eating out of your hand when you go back. It’s only when they think they have you that the mask comes off.”

Brin’s eyes were starting to droop, and he still needed to test out this bed in the inn. It could still be possible that Aberfa hadn’t messed with him in here because she was showing restraint and not because she had been unable. The sooner he got that settled, the sooner he could make plans.

Once he actually climbed into bed again, however, his eyes didn’t seem to want to stay shut. That was the way of things, wasn’t it? You were always tired until you went to bed, but then you couldn’t sleep. He’d experienced that a lot more as Mark than as Brin, though. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he’d been cooped up in this room for so long. Well, that would change tomorrow. The caravan was scheduled to leave in the morning, headed towards Blackcliff.

Eventually, sleep did sneak up on him, and when he woke up in the morning he felt completely refreshed. Even searching through his memories didn’t yield much, just a vague feeling of frustration. It had worked.

Throughout the morning, he didn’t have much time to think about anything. Hogg spent the early hour before dawn shouting at the poor staff to give him answers about the enchantments, and got three answers. There was an unenchanted jar full of ash, rosemary, and incense hidden under the bed, which was said to help ease into good sleep. There was an idol carved into the back of the headboard, an image of Anshar as the rising sun. There was also a heavily enchanted blanket made by a high-level [Weaver] that had been crafted to ward against a wide variety of ill effects. That last one was probably what actually did it, but Hogg made sure to get Brin a copy of all three.

After that, they met up with the caravan again. Pio, the [Beast Master] who might’ve sent Brin the Dream Dustling, greeted them with a respectful nod to Hogg and a gruff warning to remember the caravan’s rules to Brin.

Zerif, the spy from Prinnash who also commanded a group of bandits towards mysterious ends, greeting them with a bow, cringing obsequious mannerisms, and a heavily sweating brow that he constantly dabbed with a handkerchief.

The rest of the caravan greeted him with cheer and applause and demands to play their new favorite song. The cheering only increased when he proudly changed his status to display for all to see that he really was the author of Oud’s Bog’s number one hit single. He played the song from atop a wagon as the caravan started to move.

It was a cheerful, suspicious, happy, and grim caravan that started on the road towards Blackcliff.