“Okay, okay, I get the idea. No more magic or dream-watching.” Breathing heavily, I shoved my dream jar back into my bag and picked up The Building Blocks of Magic: A Beginner’s Foundation, opening it at random and ducking behind it.
It took a moment before my angry breaths settled enough that I could appreciate the fact that after all these years, I finally had a real magic book in my possession. I began reading eagerly, but rather than a simple step-by-step guide, it was full of complex diagrams and tables bursting with information, all written in cryptic language I couldn’t even pretend to understand. I flipped to the beginning to see if that was any better, but it appeared just as confusing.
I held the book at arms length, appalled. “This is considered basic?”
Stardust peeked above her book and promptly darted over to wrench the book away. “Weren’t you even listening to my lecture on the importance of refraining from magic while the Nightmare Council is investigating you?” She picked up a fat book from her teetering pile and shoved it into my arms. “Study this instead while I brush up on my Mortal facts.” She reburied her nose in Mortal Myths.
I scowled. I’d spent years trying to track down a magic book to develop my powers, and right when I’d gotten my hands on one I couldn’t even study from it, thanks to this tyrannical cloud. I mumbled a few choice curses under my breath but obediently began to read the large tome, titled Magical History.
Time slowed as I spent the morning reading in tedious detail the history of Weavers and their world. I discovered the first Dreamers were born from falling stars. In the beginning, the Dream and Nightmare Realms were united, until their differing views concerning the types of dreams they should create for Mortals caused a rift that led to their permanent split into their now separate realms.
After reading a bit about the layout of the Dream World—how each section of the Dream World corresponded with the section of Earth over which it resided, and that Weavers created dreams for the Mortals in their region—I yawned and turned to the next chapter, which discussed the properties of dream dust, the magical substance that allowed Weavers to use their powers. I skimmed this section, and in the thirty-plus rambling pages of stuffy academic language, I managed to glean that dream dust was the Dream World’s currency that came only from dreams, used not only for purchases but to perform all magic; in return, Weavers earned dream dust based on the strength of their magical performance.
My brow puckered. As interesting as that information was, it didn’t quite make sense. If dream dust was required to perform all magic, then how had I been able to see others’ dreams without it? I voiced my question out loud, and Stardust tore herself away from her current studies with great reluctance to answer.
“While dream dust is required to perform magic, many Weavers also have an extra, innate ability unique to them that they can access even without dream dust.” With that, she returned to her book and I resumed my own studies.
Though I eagerly read the entire section about Dreamers, I skipped over the section about Nightmares, the magical creatures who dealt with the darker—yet apparently necessary—forms of magic, such as night and storms. I wanted to avoid thinking about Nightmare Darius, especially his creepy spider dream, but the task was proving quite difficult with how frequently he invaded my thoughts, particularly the intense way he’d looked at me and the feeling that had come from his touch.
In the following chapter, “Dream Weaving,” I paused at an illustration of two Weavers—one bright and smiling, the other dark and sinister—floating in the air above a sleeping child. The child’s dream faded into a dusty substance and twirled towards the smiling Dreamer, while the other watched with a scowl. I leaned closer to read the caption: Dream Weaving: the source of all dream dust.
“Stardust, look at this.” I tilted the book towards her and she reluctantly looked up from Mortal Quirks: Horrors from Lives Devoid of Magic. “There are two Weavers in this picture.”
“Naturally,” she said. “Weavings are a competition of skills to create the strongest dream.”
I lightly traced the swirls of dream dust soaring towards the Dreamer’s locket. Now that she mentioned it, every villager I’d spied on had a sporadic pattern between dreams and nightmares. “So whoever has their dream viewed by the Mortal receives the dream dust?”
“Exactly. Having only one winner for each Weaving is what motivates Dreamers and Nightmares to create the best dreams they can in order to increase their powers.”
I frowned. “But occasionally I see two dreams following a villager. How could that be if there’s only one winner?”
Stardust’s usual know-it-all expression became perplexed. “Two dreams? I suppose that’s possible…considering Mortals are given more than one dream a night once they grow older.” She swelled up, looking rather defensive. “But considering you’re the only Weaver I’ve heard of with such abilities, it’s no wonder it’s not common knowledge amongst Weavers.” She muttered darkly to herself as she returned to her book.
I leaned on my elbow and flipped through Magical History, only pausing at an illustration of lockets bursting with dream dust. The picture’s caption said these were called dream lockets, an enchanted storage which protected a Weaver’s magic. One looked uncannily similar to the one Mother always wore around her neck.
“This dream locket almost looks exactly like Mother’s.”
Thud. Stardust’s book toppled to the floor. “Your Mother has a dream locket?” At my nod, Stardust morphed into her notebook and began scribbling furiously. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier? Only Weavers—both Dreamers and Nightmares—possess dream lockets. But if your Mother is a Weaver, what is she doing on Earth? I’ve been suspicious of her ever since you let slip you stole some of her magic, but now I can’t rest until she’s been investigated further.”
“How
