It was the dreams she couldn’t ignore any longer. Every time she went to bed, she dreaded them. Above all, she didn’t want to mention them to him. What would he think? That maybe she was crazy, or even worse just trying to guilt him into giving her what she wanted.
“I have to stop doing this to myself,” Liza whispered. But truthfully she didn’t know how to make them stop. Ever since she’d changed, since she’d been bathed and swallowed their blood, she’d been…different. Her dreams had become more like visions, and they frightened her more and more each night. As their blood mingled with hers, her powers of perception increased many fold. She still wasn’t ready for it all. It left her breathless.
“Should I tell Killy? Would she know what to do?” Liza said to herself.
That was another question that weighed on Liza’s mind. Killy had always known what to do, so why was Liza doubting her now? She didn’t know. She’d always been fiercely independent, yes. But this hesitation was different. It was as if her dreams, and what they told her, were only meant for her. She sensed danger in the telling. Even from Killy.
And so she would wait. Sensing that the time would come, that the knowledge would come to her. She would know what to share and possibly what never to. And as Liza accepted another day coming to a close she steeled herself once again for the turmoil, the pain and the revelations her nightly visions held. She didn’t realize they were a gift, at least not yet. She didn’t see them that way. She was still burdened, so heavily with her responsibility to the Sages. And so her mind turned to them completely.
“How will I save them? How can I, alone, save them all?”
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