Aberfa watched in exquisite agony as the knife scraped its way up her arm, gouging her muscles. The old, rusty knife wasn't sharp enough to make a clean cut, and her skin bunched up before finally tearing through all at once. She watched it draw upwards, hoping to see it nick her artery, hoping she would bleed out before anyone noticed, but of course Thesa wouldn't be so careless. When Thesa healed it, she healed it wrong, with diseased and patchy skin. Nearly all her body was in such a state by now.
She met the auburn eyes of her torturer, and a lifetime of shared memory passed between them. Thesa was enjoying this, she knew. Her actions were painted with a sadistic glee. It delighted her to finally punish one who'd been her rival for the last twenty years. Her rival, and though she would never admit it, her better.
There was anger there, as well. Despite everything, Thesa was still a true believer. Aberfa's betrayal must've felt like a betrayal of everything. At first, Aberfa had thought to use that. She'd spouted rebellion and sedition against Arcaena, in an effort to make Thesa snap and cut her suffering short, but it hadn't worked. She was too patient for that.
Sadistic pleasure, anger, hatred, and patience. For any other woman, that would be enough, but anyone who thought that was all that passed between them didn't understand [Witches]. To be a [Witch] was to be everything all at once. Anger and pain, but there was also love and compassion here. Why else did Thesa hold her head in her lap, drying her tears each night after the day's torture was done? Why did she guard her sleep, so that no one might disturb her one brief escape?
But the escape didn't last for long. A new day always came, and with it, new pain. The pain would never end until Aberfa wasn't Aberfa any more. That was Arcaena's decree. She was to turn herself into something else. Something monstrous and dumb, something that would hunt and kill and wouldn't remember herself or her crimes. Something that would bear spawn and release a new breed of monster to punish the world. Until then, pain, and only in her dreams could she be free.
That gave her an idea. If sleep could be an escape here, why couldn’t it be an escape from everything? What if she turned herself into a monster that could dream? By day, she would be mindless and monstrous as Arcaena could please, but by night her mind would return.
The seed of an idea quickly turned into a plan. Once one requirement solidified, all the other requirements fell into place and from there a path forward revealed itself.
Nature abhorred useless things; unused limbs grew smaller and smaller over time until they disappeared. Dreaming had to be central to this new monster's purpose if she was to depend on it bringing her back to herself.
What about a creature that hunted in dreams, the way a [Witch] could use hexes to capture and beguile her victim during sleep? If such an ability could be given to a monster, it would be even better than what [Witches] do. Without the touch of the Wyrd, she wouldn’t have to worry about those nasty [Witchhunters].
Her first idea was to turn herself into a creature that lived only in the aether, moving from prey to prey like a foul vapor in the wind. That work was fruitless. If she had twenty years, or even two, she thought she might find a path forward. As it was, even staying another day under Thesa’s cruel ministrations seemed more than she could bear. She needed a faster solution.
Her second idea was something vampiric, something that could inject mesmerizing dreams into its prey to keep it paralyzed while it fed on blood. She soon hit a snag when she couldn’t imagine how to put a vampiric ability into something alive. She had no wish to become undead.
She settled on a sea creature. The deep ocean was too dangerous for anything but krakens and sea dragons, so her monster would stay near the shore. Hunting fish would allow her to sustain herself, but for real growth she’d need stronger prey. Yes, she’d invade the dreams of her prey, luring it to the water. She’d pull it underneath the waves and drown it, then feast.
Everything was ready, and with the new burst of hope that her solid plan gave her, she spent one last day enduring Thesa’s torture, just to give herself time to beautify herself. Keeping a human form was forbidden, but there was a certain kind of beauty in gleaming scales and flashing fins. Then she was ready.
She began her transformation, pulling on the Wyrd to fuel her monstrous change and growth… only the Wyrd did not respond. It wasn’t there at all. Her [Witch] powers were gone?
Oh. Oh, how nice. How funny! How utterly absurd! She'd already done that. She'd already succeeded. This was the dream.
She’d already turned herself into a monster. She’d already fed and grown and reclaimed her mind. Yes, she could feel her real body now, gliding along with the motion of the waves. She was dreaming of one of her memories.
She laughed, and changed the dream. Thesa screamed in pain as the skin melted off her body. Aberfa felt the old familiar thrill of satisfied anger and utilized power. She burned Thesa, hung her on hook, cut her to pieces and put her back together like a flesh golem and then burned her again. Over and over until it wasn't fun anymore.
With a sigh of satisfaction, she prepared to return her full memories back to her mind. She currently didn’t remember anything past the dungeon. She must’ve done that to herself, but she wasn’t sure why.
Before she could, she felt a hand land on her shoulder. It pulled, turning her around, and saw a perfect black copy of herself. It frowned and shook its head.
“You’re my shadow,” she said. She’d been face to face with this once before, back in the waking world. As part of her training, Arcaena had separated off the evil side of herself into physical form, and she battled it for a hundred days. Only once she learned that the battle wasn’t the point, did she finally win. She’d made peace with the shadow, becoming one with the dark and bitter parts of herself, and her power in the Wyrd had soared.
Now it was back? The only possible answer was that she had done this to herself. Not a power she had in the waking world, but in dreams she could do anything.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
The shadow pointed, and she saw a memory. Oh, this was a nice one. Her favorite place. Rather than view it from a distance, she jumped straight in.
She sat in front of a roaring campfire, leaning back to feel Cadwy’s firm warmth. This was the place where she’d felt the most right. The most firm in her objectives, the most complete, the most safe and protected, the most fully realized.
She turned her head, and traced the handsome lines of his face as he stared mournfully into the flame. He'd been so strong back then, so noble. She smiled in contentment as she felt the growing bump of her belly. She dreamed of a daughter and heir, someone to share everything with, someone to teach the lessons of magic and life... With the herbs she’d taken and the spells she’d cast, it should’ve been a girl. The chance of anything else was minuscule, but then it had still happened anyway. A boy.
She hadn't known the disappointing boy this child would turn into or she would've plucked it out and cast it into the flame.
“How did it all go so wrong?” asked her shadow. Time stopped, the crackling fire now a frozen image.
“Is that why you’re here?” she asked.
The shadow nodded.
She'd thought Aberthol would bind Cadwy to her. He was a good and compassionate man with the children he'd given to that saggy, filthy peasant. Surely he'd love her child even more. How could he not love Aberthol?
How could anyone love Aberthol?
She stood with a grunt of irritation. This wasn't working, and now she was no longer in the mood to be happy.
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“How did it all go so wrong?” her shadow asked her again.
“Well, to me it seems as if it all went swimmingly. Pun fully intended. Ha!”
Her shadow glared. Ah, yes, that was to be expected. Her sense of humor was only on her good side.
“Oh fine. It wasn’t my fault, you see? Cadwy was the problem. He was always supposed to be the counter to me, the silver lining to my dark cloud. But then, Aberthol was born, and Cadwy remained distant. He longed for his family at home, and kept Aberthol at an arm's length, emotionally speaking. He held him when he cried, changed his diapers, and kept him fed, but never gave him a single smile or a kind look. Always thinking of his family in Prinnash. That was my mistake, wasn’t it? I should've had them killed, to remove the distraction. I’m too kind, everyone says so, and it’s led me into trouble more than once. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s what you’re trying to teach me.”
The shadow shook its head, and then Aberfa realized her mistake. With her shadow separated off, only her good side was left, and too kind wasn’t ever something a good half should say. She’d said that out of habit, perhaps, and it was lazy of her. What was the real problem?
“I was unkind to Cadwy, by leaving his family alive. It kept him in suspense and gave him hope for a thing that must never be. It was unkind to them as well, to lose their father and be cut loose on the wind. It would have been better for all if I had slain them. Yes, I’m sure that’s the answer.”
The shadow stared at her for a long time. “What happened next?”
That wasn’t the answer? Aberfa tsked and shook her head. “Aberthol grew. He became a somber, closed-off, distant child. He never smiled or cried. He didn't react when I gave him toys, fed him cake or candy and also didn't flinch when I struck him. That complete lack of connection only made me angrier, and his punishments became more severe. Despite it all, he never reacted. He trudged through life patiently, as if waiting for it all to be over. There was one bright spot, though. Do you remember? Oh, let’s play it back and watch.”
She imagined herself in the palace, and sat on her favorite comfortable armchair. She sipped from a cup of nice mint tea and watched. She’d thrown a scrying mirror on the wall, and was currently viewing her son, though he did not know it. Cunning Awnadil gifted him a toy, a stuffed bunny, and led him to believe that Aberfa didn't know about it. He loved that bunny, whispering secrets to it, playing with it at all hours, and hiding it under the sheets when Aberfa entered his room. When the bunny had revealed himself to be Basil and started cutting Aberthol for the first time, the boy actually cried. It was the one moment of real emotion she'd ever seen from him after the age of four, and it had been gifted to someone else.
“Why? Why couldn’t he look at me that way? Why only her? I am his mother. His smiles should be mine, and his tears doubly so!”
The shadow placed a comforting hand on her back, stroking it up and down. She sighed.
The shadow waited for a long time for her to continue, but Aberfa didn’t know what else to say. After a minute, it dawned on her. “You don’t know the answer either! You’re trying to play the part of a wise soul guide, but you don’t know what I did wrong either!”
“Don’t be stupid. Think harder!”
“No. No, I’m right. You don’t know the answer.”
The shadow folded her arms. “Yes, but you realizing that undermines the point of this exercise. Shall we wipe your memory and start over?”
She shuddered as she imagined going through Thesa’s torture again, even in a dream. It was a necessary starting point; it made her humble and put her in a teachable mood. But she wasn’t ready to do it again. “No! No need. Let’s continue on as before. After this we went on that mission and discovered the Burrow Kingdom. My reading of fate was clear about what that meant about Arcaena and the world. You know what happened next. But what after that? My memories are still blocked from my life as a monster.”
“Your first days as a monster were mindless, even in dreams. Nothing else would’ve fooled Thesa. I still wonder if you fooled Arcaena. Perhaps she saw what you were doing and saw the genius of it, the potential, and allowed you to continue. Regardless, it went as planned. As a beast, you ate fish and crabs. You slept twenty hours a day, and dreamed. You managed to do as you wish, and your dreams connected with the dreams of others. You managed to pull a level 28 wild goat into the water, and pulled it down to where it drowned. In the pattern of the game of gods, this achievement fueled your growth. Your body swelled in size, your limbs grew longer, your teeth grew sharper. Most importantly, your dreams grew larger. More intelligent and complex, until one day, you found yourself again.”
Aberfa smiled. “And now I’m here, totally and absolutely free, in a way I never was in my old life. I can have anything I wish, exactly how I wish it to be at all times. I can go where I wish, do what I wish, taste every fruit and delight in every sensation. I won’t even be lonely, as I can create whatever company I desire, such as you. How then, do you ask me where it all went wrong? I am in paradise.”
The shadow blinked at her, unimpressed.
Aberfa huffed. “Oh, don’t give me that. I know you’re just me. Aberthol found a way to ruin this, didn’t he? That’s what happened next. Oh, go ahead and show me.”
They stayed in the comfortable sitting room in the palace, but the image on the scrying room changed to show him, quiet little Aberthol. He looked exactly as he always had, except with a new scar on his forehead. On second glance, he had many new scars. Disgusting. She’d never let any permanent scars show on his skin back then, not even the ones that Basil left. Was no one taking care of this boy? Where was Cadwy.
“You say you have everything you desire, but there is no mother alive or dead who would forget the fruit of her womb. You sought out Aberthol, and found him. The Mother’s Knot succeeded in saving his life. He made his way free of Travin’s Bog and ended in another small town called Hammon’s Bog. By the time you found him, he’d been through multiple battles, and even taken a Class.”
“What?” Aberfa was stunned. She wanted to be there for his System Day. She could forgive Arcaena for forcing her to transform herself–a predictable punishment for her transgression. But for making her miss her own son’s System Day? Never.
“He is a [Glassbound Illusionist],” said the shadow flatly, making no effort to soften the blow.
“No,” said Aberfa. “What of the Achievements I gave him? He should’ve been offered a more appropriate Class than that!”
“It seems he lost all his Achievements and earned attributes during the process of resurrection,” said the shadow. “It gets worse. He has the [Scarred] title. [Scarred, but Healing] now. That means he had the [Scarred One] Class, but gave it up.”
Aberfa groaned. [Scarred One] would’ve perhaps been acceptable, if he were given the proper guidance. But who was there to guide him? And he’d given it up. Why?
She rubbed her temples against a growing headache. It shouldn’t be possible to get a headache in dreams, but she had one.
“I think I can guess how I reacted. Still, you may as well show me,” said Aberfa.
Then she was there, living it again. She’d found him in his dreams and unleashed her fury, torturing him with images plucked from his own mind. She found his memories of near-death at the hand of Arcaena’s army, and turned it into real death, stabbing him again and again. She heightened the realism, heightened the fear and despair he felt, but otherwise kept the dream in the confines of his own imagination. It wouldn’t do to reveal herself too soon.
And Aberthol suffered. Here, in the privacy of his own mind, he saw no need to keep a clear face. He screamed and panicked. He frowned and groaned. He cried.
It was delightful. This was all she wanted. Something real. Something authentic. A little bit of vulnerability, was that too much to ask?
Perhaps she went a bit too far, in the few days that followed, but all too soon, the fun was up. Somehow, despite the sheer impossibility of changing a dream that she controlled, he closed himself off again. He didn’t scream or cry. He didn’t blubber in fear. He didn’t cry out in pain when insects devoured his intestines or when she executed those silly little friends of his.
He sat patiently with a blank face, and waited for it to be over.
Just like before. Here, she was a monster of incredible power. Here, he was a simple glassmaker of all things. And still everything was exactly as it was before! She raged, blasting the image of him to pieces, only to summon him again and strike him with lightning until nothing remained but crispy ash.
“Yes,” said the shadow. “That’s how you reacted. You raged. You tortured him for weeks on end. You grew obsessed, forgetting even to feed yourself in your quest to make him open up, to show you even a tiny glimmer of personality again. But he never did. You grew angrier and angrier, and he never relented. You are trapped, you see. It grew to a fever pitch, where you attempted to snuff him out, right in the dream. It may have worked if he had not woken himself up in time. This ability requires further refining. Regardless, this was a step too far, and the sudden guilt at trying to kill your own child broke your fury long enough for you to set up this… thought experiment. And now you’re caught up to the present.”
Aberfa slumped back in her chair. It no longer felt quite so comfortable as it had. “I see now, why I separated myself from my shadow. It’s obvious, from this side. I know what I did wrong. I overplayed my hand. I shouldn’t have given him so many nightmares in those early days. I should have given him sweet dreams as well. I don’t only wish for tears. Did I forget that I’ve also longed to see him laugh? My lack of discipline made him determined to find a defense against me.”
“Such a defense should not be possible,” said the shadow.
“And yet it is.”
“I see. You shouldn’t have pressed so hard when you first found him. A simple solution, but one impossible to see, as wrapped up in your anger as you were.”
“Yes,” Aberfa said with meek acceptance.
“You understand your mistake. Now how will you fix it?” asked the shadow.
Aberfa flashed her shadow a mischievous smile. “And how is Aberthol now?”
“You have wasted too much time with this. He slept well last night. Your previous plan was to break him down with exhaustion, but now you’ll need to start over from scratch.”
“No, I believe this is for the best. I’ll draw back for now. A more subtle approach is in order. After all, I don’t need to break down his mind. I only need him to step into the water. Just a single time, and we’ll be together again and everything will be better.”
She met the eyes of her shadow and it grinned wide with perfect black teeth.