Daphne was really starting to miss the praying mantis nightmare.

She had faced that nightmare in the flesh, alive and wide awake. It had been worse than she could have imagined, and she had emerged victorious (and only slightly drenched in vomit). Chances were high that when she encountered the dream again, it would have lost much of its power over her.

She wasn’t asking for it, by any means. The praying mantis nightmare was still… well, a nightmarish experience. Daphne didn’t want to go through it again ever, even for the pleasure of showing those nasty buggers how fractionally less scared of them she was now.

Still, the buggers were preferable to the horror dream show Daphne found herself in now. Especially since she no longer had the luxury of wondering what exactly was going on.

She was Amelia again. Daphne knew it right away this time. Somehow, by the same dream logic, she knew this was an earlier memory than last time. Daphne was getting a peek at her main character’s life from some point before the assault on the Wordmaster’s fortress.

And it sucked.

In the dream, Daphne-as-Amelia emerged from the Lorist Way into the Hall of Parables, just like real Daphne had in the real waking world earlier that day. But there were two key differences. For one thing, there were two griffins standing on either side of the arch, armed with word-chains. Clearly, they were guarding the tunnel entrance. Amelia glanced at them, but they stared right through her, unseeing. She breathed a soundless sigh of relief. The Word of Invisibility that the Wordmaster had spoken over her was still holding.

The second difference was the time of day. Looking up, Amelia didn’t see the golden light of evening pouring through the many windows, like Daphne had. Instead, the sky was full of stars. The light they gave was brilliant, but felt cold and hard and distant. This was a light that illuminated without compassion. It exposed, but would not forgive.

Amelia shivered.

Get a move on, she chided herself. The sun will be up soon enough. And if you’re not back in the nest before Hyddrun wakes up…

The thought did not bear finishing. Amelia darted over to one of the low windows, sprang up to the ledge, and dropped down silently outside. Then she took off at a run.

She followed the same route Daphne had taken on Runar’s back, but it was a very different experience running than flying. Sure, Amelia was strong and agile. She leapt over small fissures and scrambled up rock walls with all the prowess of a Level 12 with +10 Dexterity. But her feet were already sore from her long walk through the tunnels, and she’d drained the last drops from her bottle-pendant an hour before. This, combined with the sinking feeling that she was losing her race with the dawn, advanced the journey from arduous to tortuous.

Even more torturous was the twisty, winding argument with herself that kept replaying over and over inside her head.

What am I doing?

I’m helping. That’s why I was sent here. To help Euloban.

I’m helping the Wordmaster. How is that helping Euloban?

The world is a mess. It has so much potential, but it’s caught in the past like a trap. Tradition has a stranglehold on words, and it’s choking the life out of them. The Wordmaster wants to set them free.

Set them free by getting them all under his control?

Every revolution needs a leader. Without a clear vision and a strong hand, nothing would get done.

What about Hyddrun?

That was the point at which the argument would usually stumble, like a runner tripping over a stray pebble, and start again at the beginning.

Over and over, with minimal variation. Amelia pushed herself harder, welcoming the pain of new blisters on her feet and the agony of breath beginning to burn in her lungs. At least it gave her mind something else to focus on.

Finally, she was running through the entrance of the Nest Cove. Now she had to take care, as she was running under the homes of many sleeping griffins. Even with the covering of the Word of Invisibility, she could not afford for the whole cove to stir and join in a hunt for mysterious noises.

Once again, her elevated stats came in handy. Her +11 Intelligence showed her the best way, while her Dexterity made it possible to follow that way quickly and quietly. More Strength would have been nice, especially as she reached the back of the main valley and began the long climb up to Hyddrun’s family cove, but she could manage.

As long as she could make it back before dawn…

Too late. As she crawled over the final ledge and scrambled to her feet, she saw Hyddrun already standing by his nest, looking across the cove at her empty berth. She felt his concern like a knife to the heart. Without thinking, she called out, “Hyddrun!”

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He turned and stared right through her without seeing.

“Amelia?” His voice was tinged with panic. “Where art thou?”

Cursing herself silently, she let the Word of Invisibility drop. “Here, my friend,” she said, forcing a smile all the way across their emotional link. “Sorry for my late return.”

“Return from what?” He leapt from his ledge to the cove entrance, resting a wingtip lightly on her shoulder. “Where were thee? And how didst thou vanish, then reappear?”

Amelia had hoped not to have to use the well-rehearsed lie, but it came out easily nonetheless. “A solo scouting mission. I wanted to check the first prose-shaft, just down the Lorist Way.”

Hyddrun’s eyes widened. “Then you have been gone all the night. Hast thou no need of sleep?”

“I’ll take a nap later,” she promised. “I couldn’t have slept anyway. You know I can’t rest when I’m worried about something.”

“Thou shouldst have shared thy worry with me.”

“You’re a dad.” She gave him a playful shove. “A dad of two growing male griffins. You need sleep more than I do.”

Hyddrun glowed at the mention of his two sons, but he was not to be put off. “And what of this reappearing? You seemed to materialize out of the air.”

Here, too, the lie rolled out with astonishing ease.

“It’s something I’ve been experimenting with. A new word-chain. Mainly for defensive purposes. It’s pretty tricky, but I’ve been working with it for a while.”

“Indeed?” Hyddrun raised an eyebrow. “Thou hast not shown it to me.”

“I haven’t?”

“Nay. Thou hast not even mentioned it.”

“Well, there’s been a lot going on.” She smiled at Hyddrun, trying to send a flood of warm comfort across their emotional link. “It’s just a tool I’m trying, and it’s been a huge help. Makes me feel safer. Everyone needs a tool, right?”

“Of course,” the griffin said cautiously. “I am glad it has been a help to thee.”

“To all of us,” she corrected. Reached out her hand, she ruffled her friend’s head feathers. “Sorry I didn’t bring it up before. I guess, with all the other stuff happening, I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

“Amelia!” A young griffin came soaring from the back of the cove, managing to land close by the human without knocking her over. His manner was quiet, but his golden eyes shone with excitement. “I have been thinking all night about that Word of Truth you mentioned. ‘The Falcon.’ I think I may have an idea about where to find the final verse!”

“You’re the best, Runar.” Amelia gave the serious youngster a formal bow. “How about some breakfast? You can tell me all about it, Master Lorist.”

He returned the bow, his golden feathers practically radiating with pride. “I would be honored, Master Wordsmith…”

“Wordsmith! Wordsmith!”

Daphne woke with a start to the sound of a voice shouting for her. A very young griffin’s voice that seemed to have only one volume…

She sat up, bracing herself for impact as Bjarni came crashing onto the wide shelf. Fortunately, he missed the nest where she had been sleeping. Instead, he slid into the wall with a painful-sounding THUD, but it did nothing to quench his fiery excitement.

“Wordsmith! I did it! I used the Word of Truth!”Bjarni yelled.

She blinked hard, still trying to shake off the horror of the nightmare.

You’re not Amelia, she said to herself firmly. You’re Daphne, and you’re talking to Bjarni.

Out loud, she said, “That’s great, Bjarni. Got some good practice in already?”

“Not practice.” Bjarni threw something at her. The projectile bounced off her head and landed in her lap. “Open it! Page 2! See?”

It was his status book. Opening it obediently to the second page, she gasped.

“Level 2?” Daphne looked up at him, eyes wide. “And this — this has a skill —”

“Bjarni!” Runar landed roughly on the shelf, cuffing his brother roughly as he did so. “What art thou thinking? It is the middle of the night. Thou shall wake half the cove with thy noise.”

“Show him, Wordsmith!” Bjarni crowed. “I did it, brother! I am a true Reader!”

Daphne couldn’t speak. She gave the book to Runar, watching as he scanned the page.

“This is impossible.” The golden griffin looked sharply at his younger sibling. “Night Guardian? How hast thou earned this skill?”

Bjarni looked like he might actually combust any moment. His very voice seemed to spark and sizzle as he told his tale.

“I wanted to practice with my word-chains without disturbing anyone. So I went to the Eastern Gate. I knew Gulbrand would be on guard, and he is half deaf anyway. But I was practicing, and then I heard Gulbrand give a great cry. I looked and there was a Rabid Daydream! A large, terrible brute of a creature. Gulbrand was shouting like mad, but I knew no one would hear. Then it picked up Gulbrand! So out I ran, and I threw the first word-chain around the beast’s chest. Trapped both its arms that way, so it could not grab me.”

Bjarni paused to beam at Runar. “I told thee I attend to the parts of my lessons that are most important,” he said smugly. Then he launched back into the story.

“The beast was so startled, it dropped Gulbrand. He hit his head and lay prone. I quickly threw the next two word-chains around the creature’s legs. It began staggering about, and I was afraid it would step on poor Gulbrand! So I cast the last word-chain about the neck, and spoke the full Word of Truth directly in the creature’s face. The Rabid Daydream writhed, and fell, and was still! I vanquished it!”

Daphne’s heart swelled with joy and pride. She clapped her hands and looked to Runar, waiting for him to start the congratulations, but the golden griffin was staring hard at his younger brother.

“And?” he prompted. “What didst thou do next?”

“I brought Gulbrand back.” Bjarni retrieved his status book and gazed at it happily. “He is not mortally wounded, thank the Phrases. Then I came to tell thee and the Wordsmith. Level 2!” He spread his wings wide in exultation. “I am Level 2, brother!”

Runar’s eyes were wide, but Daphne felt only fear flowing along their emotional link.

“And the Rabid Daydream?” he demanded. “Didst thou extract the residual words, so no new creature would spawn from the remains?”

Bjarni froze. He stared at his older brother, the fire in his eyes suddenly extinguished by a wave of shame and terror.

“What of the word-chains?” Runar pressed on. “Didst thou retrieve them, so they might not absorb into the beast and accelerate the spawning?”

Bjarni’s wings fell. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, a scream rent the night air.

It was a wordless scream, but the meaning was all too clear. The sounds of crashing rocks and breaking stones that followed removed all doubt.

“By all the Legends —” Runar broke off. Turning his back on his brother, he knelt by Daphne.

“Come, Wordsmith,” he said. His voice was cold, but his golden eyes were alight with the flame of battle. “A Rabid Daydream has entered the Nest Cove. We shall have need of your assistance.”