Welcome to Valerian Night, where the story comes to you in snippets and snatches, snapshots and slivers of 300 words every week. Your input is valued and needed, for what you say may drive the story into a totally different direction. Follow the meandering coils of story that take Alyxa Fairchild onto a direct collision course with Nightmares, Dreams, Old Deities and New Heroes as her world collides with that of Réveille, the land of Waking Dreams and Dead Gods. Trail after Morpheus as he discovers the foibles and confusions of the human world and finds himself strangely enamoured thereof all the while trying to keep his Dreamer safe and ensure the continued peace of the Real World. Let the young Jazzy open your eyes and show you that the world you see is not necessarily the world you know...

Thursday, April 8, 2010

XIII: Enchained

“Alright, I’ve decided…” Alyxa said, raising her head and looking at the other eight members of the Coven.

“And?” Maye, the Coven-Queen, asked her impatiently.

“Of all that want to come through, only Bast has any real knowledge of our world, and unless one of you wants to volunteer to babysit Ares or Thor, or put up with Isis’ tears for the rest of your lives, I suggest we bring Bast through.”

“Can we trust her?” one of the others asked, a touch of nerves in her voice.

“They are gods, Delia, they do not deal in human concepts of ‘trust’, they are what they are,” Maye chided.

Delia hung her head.

“Shall we begin then?” Alyxa queried, she was eager to get this over with and return home, hopefully to find that Amy and Morpheus had not turned the place into a fairy’s castle or a teapot; the last five nights since Amy’s arrival had been fraught with unexpected occurrences: fairies serving tea to teddy bears, a candy castle appearing in the backyard, and a complete overhaul of Alyxa’s wardrobe.

“We will make the preparations toni- ”

“No need, kittens, I’m here.”

The Coven went still – apart from Delia, who fainted dead into Maye’s arms – as a very impressive looking cat wandered into their midst; sleek, silver-blue, but with eyes of an eerie gold, and they looked through you as though you weren’t there at all.

“But we – we haven’t do –” one of the girls stuttered.

“The Dreamer’s decision was enough, she is after all the gateway, and I’m hardly in need of full ceremony the way the others are,” the Cat-Goddess informed them, “so I saved you the trouble of incense and candles, and in return,” she seemed to smile, “I ask only that you love me.”


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