LI: Unravelling

Alyxa sat, huddled, against the headboard of the enormous bed that was the primary furnishing of the room. She was wearing some sort of elaborate Victorian gown, complete with corset and bustle, in a shade of violet that she would never had thought possible. It didn’t matter, of course, none of it did. She had been here, how long? Days? Months? Years?

“Though it wouldn’t matter, I can’t Dream while I’m here, so it dreams me. The days dream, time fades, I can’t see, everything is the same and nothing is different,”
she blinked, it was her voice, saying those words.

“If you do not release us, she is going to lose herself, Lucifer.”

“Morpheus?”

Alyxa lifted her head and looked around. He was standing by the door. She liked the way the white shirt he was wearing opened, leaving the hollow of his throat naked. She saw Lucifer too, Hell’s King was radiant, wild around the edges.

“Run fingers over skin,” Alyxa mumbled, “I don’t remember putting on purple.”

By the door, Morpheus crossed his arms.

“You see?” he demanded.

“You might have a point.”

“Voice,” Alyxa murmured before she could stop herself. She shook herself, “Morpheus!”

He came to her then, and took her into his arms, holding her close.

“I can’t stay much longer. I can’t sleep here. I can’t Dream here. I’m losing it,” she told him, surprised by how panicked she sounded.

“I suppose you might have a point, darling,” Lucifer said to Morpheus, “but you’re my guests, and I’m your warden.”

“You’re getting your words mixed up again, Morning Star,” Morpheus snarled.

“And you’ve not even given my suggestion any thought,” Lucifer countered.

“We will not help release you, it’s unthinkable.”

“Not even if I can keep the world safe from Baldur?” Lucifer asked.

L: Patterns

It was quiet now, but the riots of colours that Jessica kept seeing kept falling back into place and every time she moved her head they showed her Lucifer’s beautiful face, looking up at her through the kaleidoscope. It made her laugh whenever she saw it, the white-blonde hair, and startling blue eyes.

“Are you alright?” Michael asked her, moving to stand behind her.

Now that she knew, now that she could feel his presence and knew what it meant.

“I’m super,” she told him, laughing out loud, “I don’t know how, but I can see.
None of the normal things, I can’t see the table, but I know it’s there, I can’t see you, but I know you, I can feel you. I know who you are.”

“I know you do. Morgan never had the chance to tell you, that the curse Apollo set upon your line was lifted when Lucifer Fell,” he said, and she laughed again.

“I know, I can feel that. He Fell and the One lifted the curse after consultation with Apollo, they decided between them that it was best that way.

“You’re doing well,” Michael told her, caressing her shoulders, “the doors are opening for you.”

“Do you think it will happen? Do you think I’ll be able to bring the Dreamer across?”

She laughed again. Excited by everything, it was terrifying how much she understood now, how far forward and backwards she could See. It was amazing. Everything made total sense, she could see the great pattern, the whorls and lines.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, “like your light. Just beautiful. I can’t describe it, I don’t know what it is, but I can see it and it’s so gorgeous I could eat it.”
Michael chuckled.

“Eating ripples of fate will give you indigestion.”

XLIX: Knowing

“Jazzy!”

Michael burst into the room, ignoring everyone else. He could feel her pulling at him even before she had called him. It was painful, the way she pulled at him, never before had he felt such a pull, not from any of the Cassandrians. All of that stopped irritating him when he saw her, his Jessica, lying flat on her back, twisting in the middle of her transformation.

“How long has she been like this?” he demanded, glancing at the man who was kneeling at her side.

“Since she called you.”

Michael glanced at him and around the room, seeing the faces of the men and women he knew but never seen. Aeron was the one near Jessica. Delia and Tiffany, two witches of lesser power, standing by each other, the youngest. Mark and Michaela.

“Give her space, she needs to find her own way back,” Michael instructed.

“Who is this guy?” Delia demanded, but her father waved her to silence.

“Only the Loremaster knows what happens when the Diviner’s Sight is passed on,” Mark declared.

“No Loremaster since before Morgan has seen that passage of power,” Michaela pointed out.

“Lore isn’t enough,” Aeron said, “not for something like this. What I know I learned, what is happening now is beyond my knowing.”

“And why is he – ” Delia started.

“Will you shut up?” Michael demanded impatiently, kneeling to touch Jessica’s face.

She stopped writhing instantly, and opened her eyes. They were colourless now, the deep blues were gone, bleached pale.

“Mic’hael,” she breathed, her voice filled with a new timbre, with power, “I See.”

When she said his name she said it the way it was meant to be spoken. She knew then, the first door had been opened. She would open the others soon.

“Mic’hael, I Know.”