Six

Nine

Fifteen days passed.

The panoramic confinement room had finally reconstructed Waverly's eyesight. She woke up being able to see from every angle like a bird. It was either some special magic in the room, or the mechanisms of it that enabled her wide prison change shape oftentimes. One day she had woken up to a tunnel-like ceiling and a deep floor. The next was a winding room like an endless hallway, another time; the room was round like one for a royal ball. Despite this change in shapes and width, items in room remained the same.

Nearly every item inside it ranged from gold to silver and bronze. There were golden spirals that served as a staircase leading to the top of the roof that was, in reality, a dead end. There was no door or hatch that led out into the open air. Three beds jammed into one were piled high like loaves of white bread in a corner made with blue covers and a single pillow. Beside the bed was a long table carved from redwood and pleasantly designed with Elvish patterns. It carried on top of it an empty gold tray, a bronze water jar carved like a swan, a small brass goblet, a neat heap of folded towels, a pair of cutlery and a green, round, open-mouthed vase that held a very familiar flowering plant – Heather.

Waverly had learned to be comfortable in confinement. After getting thrown in, she suddenly seemed to have been forgotten. The men who had taken her never reported her rashness to their King, or at least this was what she thought.

No one was allowed to visit, and she was not permitted to leave. That bit was made clear as the room had no doors or windows at all. The only good thing was – it had everything one would need to live as comfortably as they could in prison; there was a firebath in the corner obstructed for privacy by a wide milky white curtain. The bath was dug deep so that the room never flooded over during a wash. Everything else was self-sufficient; food magically appeared in the tray and clean water in the jar, clothes replaced themselves, the bed remade itself too. The whole place was sickeningly clean and orderly – very reminiscent of Judson's lifestyle.

Waverly thought it was the kind of place he would want to live in.

It was hard to believe that the room was meant to hold prisoners. In fact, it made one forget why they had been imprisoned in the first place. This trick worked its magic for the first week of Waverly's stay, until certain dreams began to shock her mind back to reality. She hated that she had felt so at home in a royal prison when a lot of important things were at stake. She burned to know what was going on in the outside world. She half expected someone to burst through the walls at any time and free her. Someone like Brijjet or Diarmaid, but nobody ever broke through the walls, or the roof.

One person did come in without needing to break anything – a girl the same age as Waverly. She had been present the very first time the latter was shoved into the room and the walls sealed up behind her. She realized almost immediately that the girl was not Human, nor Elf, but rather, a nature spirit, one that was slightly distinct from the Derews.

A flower spirit.

Her name was Cassiope – spirit of the Heather, and it was her mother plant that lay on Waverly's table – the only way for her to summon the spirit whenever she wished.

Cassiope was as light as air, prettier than most of the Derews with ears that stuck out in a funny manner – sharp, and pointy, and pink. She always wore a strapless blue tinted dress that exposed her purple feet and hands. The white flowers that graced around her hair created a lingering perfume whenever she stepped into the room.

She became fast friends with Waverly and the latter's only informant. Cassiope was a little slow with her news, and so sometimes, Waverly got certain stories days after it had passed. On top of this, Cassiope was also very forgetful. She had trouble hearing which made it extra difficult for her to pick up on new information, or deliver them correctly.

Still, she was welcome in the confinement room whenever. Presently, Waverly had tasked her with finding Brijjet and was awaiting her return. She knew it would prove difficult for Cassiope to catch up to someone that fast when she herself walked only three to five paces faster than a snail.

Albeit, Waverly remained hopeful.

Even if Cassiope were to come back with news on Brijjet's whereabouts, there was no way the latter could speak with her. The walls were sealed shut and the roof alike. Cassiope could simply float through the wall whereas Brijjet had no such ability, but Waverly relied on the fact that he was friends with the same man who had arrested her in the first place. He had to have permission to come and visit her even if it were for a few minutes.

It did worry her that he had not come to visit since her arrest, or even tried to send word.

Waverly paced the room, waiting for Cassiope to return.

Just then, a wild tress of brown hair passed through the wall. Cassiope's slender frame followed and her light feet touched the ground. She smiled widely as her eyes locked with Waverly's.

"In the King's Council, that is where he is." She announced in a tinkering sort of voice.

She hopped over to Waverly, who slumped back on her waist high bed in frustration, feeling a little curious.

"What is he doing in the King's Council? Is he pleading for my release?" Waverly sat bolt upright, her expression curious. "Did you hear what they were talking about?"

"Goats!" Cassiope replied cheerfully then frowned. "I wonder why the King's concern will be for goats."

Waverly looked perplexed. "Goats? What is so important about goats? Is there going to be a feast?"

Cassiope floated upwards, spinning slowly midair. "I believe that there will be one soon. The Floom has begun."

Waverly reached for Cassiope and grabbed her arm then pulled her close so that their gazes locked. "What is The Floom?"

"Floom is the prettiest season in Alpgeton. It is when colors live and take over everything. It is my favorite season because my flowers look lovelier, and my sisters flowers too, and my cousins—"

"A season of living colors? If that is not the strangest thing I have heard today!" Waverly stated. She inspected the room. Everything looked normal, and the same.

"Oh, you cannot spot or see Floom in a dry place." Cassiope added, noticing her inspection.

Waverly turned to her. "Floom is a thing?"

"Floom is color. You can see Floom in wet places, like the rainforests in Woodland, the falls, all of the springs and wet leaves. It is most abundant in Snaw Ford, it is, because it is always wet there."

Cassiope turned upright and made a sad face. Her eyes resembled polished walnut.

"You cannot see the Floom in Snaw Ford when you are kept in here. It is most beautiful, this time of year. Oh, you must see it, you must. You just need to."

Waverly sighed feeling a little grateful that Cassiope wanted her to witness such beauty as she described.

"It is alright." She comforted. "There will come another time when I will get to see the Floom."

"No. The next Floom season is many many months away. It will take too long, it will. You really must see this one." Cassiope insisted.

"You speak like you want to make me airy enough to float through the walls like you do." Waverly said, raising a suspecting eyebrow even though she knew that Cassiope was never one to break the rules no matter the motivation.

"I cannot leave this place and you know that."

"I will go back to Brijjet right now and make him tell the King to forget about goats and remember you."

With that, Cassiope floated towards the wall, bursting through it in a spray of pink dust.

Waverly laid back on her bed and focused intently on the ceiling high above. Even though her vision was directed upwards, she still caught glimpses of things that were naturally supposed to be part of her blind spot. The room was to thank for this even though the strain deeply hurt her eyes. The ceiling had bold golden rings decorated on it – the primary source of undulating light in the room. It looked no different from the spiral staircase, and sometimes if she peered at it from an angle, it appeared as though both structures were connected. These endless rings seemed so real they looked like they were falling but she had gotten over the fright of it now. Her first experience with the ceiling had been so terrifying that she had slept on the floor that night. Regardless, the ceiling was everywhere. It was as pointless as trying to hide from the moon under an open sky.

Waverly's chest began to ache.

She missed the open sky. She did not realize how much being under it had made her feel safe. It was basically the same as being under her mother's protective gaze. Now she was deprived of that. She wondered if Selene could see her, or if the goddess knew how she was being kept in a strange room without being brought to face trial. She watched the rings closely because they seemed to hum, but it was only an illusion. It gave her the impression that something gigantic pressed down on the roof from the outside, but she did not stir nor show panic. She laid still, watching the golden outlines of the circle and how it curved toward absolutely nowhere.

She could not tell what time it was as there were no openings in the room, and so she learned to listen to her own body to know it. A faint feeling of exhaustion told her it was nighttime and she needed to sleep. She got up and headed for the wash, taking a new handful of night clothes with her.

When she stepped into the hot, clear bath water, she reached for the scented gel and her eye caught something strange. The water had slowly begun to stir in the middle.

Waverly halted to see if she was the cause of this, but the water only rippled gently around her. The movement she saw was different. In the middle of the bath, the water looked as if a gray mist had drowned there – as if the smoke from the water itself was traveling downward.

The strangest thing was not in how the mist had come to be in the water – it was how it made Waverly watch so quietly, and with rapt attention that she felt nothing else was as important. The strange mist tenderly curled like wisps of rising smoke, disappearing and reformulating when least expected. They looked like tendrils, but much lighter, even graceful.

Waverly reached forward. She dipped her hand in the water and rotated her arm so that the mist completely dissolved then sat back and watched.

Slowly and mesmerizingly, the grey mist arose again from right under the water, coiling in the middle in its continuous spiral. This time, it was red instead of gray. Waverly moved back, startled when she suddenly realized that her bathwater was completely raided by swirling mist. There were so many colors that the water now looked the same as a painting.

When she put together what the misty colors actually were, Waverly relaxed.

"The Floom!" She said quietly to herself.

It was a strange thing to bathe in a water full of colors that could not stain, but Waverly liked it. Being in the water with all the colors made her feel as relaxed as one was being guarded by a thousand soldiers.

After her bath, she threw on a silk night shorts and blouse and retreated to bed. Cassiope floated through the wall to bid her goodnight.

"I saw The Floom." Waverly confessed as she laid sideways on her bed with one hand supporting her head in a comfortable position.

Cassiope squealed in delight and a spray of pink dust showered Waverly in the face.

"How? When? Did you go outside?"

Waverly coughed and waved the sweet smelling dust away. "No. The Floom was in my bath."

Cassiope looked like she would explode with excitement and stared adoringly at Waverly as if she had created The Floom. "And how was it?"

"Beautiful and. . . hypnotizing."

Cassiope plopped on her back with her arms spread wide. "You should see them in the forest. It is like a wonderful dream, it is."

She sat upright. "I did not find Brijjet any longer, but his black haired friend told me that he has joined a hunt."

"A hunt? What for?"

"A jolly forest hunt for the three of them," At this point, Cassiope appeared confused. "or maybe, two of them. I kept seeing the same person, I did. I feared I had a concussion."

Waverly laughed heartily. "Those are brothers. Dermot and Diarmaid."

Cassiope relaxed. "Oh, it makes sense now, it does. One kept telling me that he has never met me before even though he was the one that told me where Brijjet was – I hope."

"I strongly believe that that one was Diarmaid." Waverly added, resting her head against the pillow which immediately swallowed her into its softness.

"Did you have supper?" Cassiope asked, her eyes darting towards the empty tray that was beginning to refill itself.

Waverly shifted her gaze, her panoramic eyesight allowed her to glimpse the full tray. She absentmindedly touched a hand to her stomach.

"No. I do no feel hungry."

The flower spirit squealed. "Can I have your grapes?"

She laughed. "You can if you promise to keep those purple sprays away from my face."

Cassiope leaped for joy and grabbed at the fruits, stuffing them in her mouth two at a time.

Waverly shut her eyes, listening to the gorging sounds her friend made as she ate. She wanted more than anything to stay awake because she knew what awaited when she slept. Only about a month ago, she had encountered Nysus – the god of nightmares, and made the discovery that he was not limited to bringing bad dreams to only those who slept untucked.

She opened her eyes again, reluctant to fall asleep and experience the same recurring dreams, but a huge part of her wanted to see the remains of it. Each time she slept, she could only see as far as a particular event and would wake up drenched in sweat. This time, she wanted to see everything, but wondered if she had the stomach for it.

"I'm leaving now." Cassiope whispered softly. Her scent was usually unnoticeable until she had left. "Good dreams, friend."

Waverly did not hear Cassiope leave, but the empty feel of the room confirmed it. She suddenly felt all alone again. A rush of feelings enveloped her as they did every night since her arrival. She rolled over and reached under her pillows, pulling out six spherical balls that looked like something carved out of ice.

They were trophies Waverly had held on to – actual crystals created from the linger of a Crysotoni, a crystal fairy she had met during the Trials. She kept them as a reminder about the tasks she undertook, all of which seemed so far away they now felt as nothing but a fading memory.

She weighed a crystal in her hand. Each one was perfectly round, as heavy as a small drinking bowl, and under the golden light of the room – divine and inviting. This was strange of course, as Waverly usually spent every night admiring the spheres and they had looked very normal then.

She thought about the fairy who had made them. His name was FluffPick. A funny name, but FluffPick had believed in her and introduced her to people who aided her in defeating a very horrible mountain spirit in the form of a giant. In hindsight, each Trial seemed more and more like a fever dream. A wild fantasy she had created in her head and was cruelly yanked out of by the arms of reality. She recalled every Trial like a great blur in the back of her mind, kept on the shores of an endless island and obscured by giant waterfalls.

Waverly scoffed at the thought. She could barely remember anything considering how vivid and impossible the tasks had been.

The few things she recalled acutely were her own feelings of exhaustion, pain and fear after every Trial came or passed, the look on the evil incarnation of herself when it had smirked, the feel of Niana's hand in hers when the Nixie had led her to the realm of the ancient sea god, the painless yet crumbling touch of Gayl's hand against her shoulder, his counsel, and the ride with Ceta.

Waverly counted that as the most dangerous yet blissful thing to have ever happened to her – riding on an excited whale. Not so many people could boast of that.

Her thoughts began to go further – the geyser like manner she had shot out of the ocean, her fall, his voice when he announced that she was back. Waverly reeled in her thoughts in, but they struggled to break forth against her will. She remembered summoning Thern and how he had mistook her for Selene, the feel of victory against her finger tips when she was about to make a request, the interruption. . .

Waverly sat up and buried her face in her hands. Her thoughts fast forwarded to Brijjet being stabbed and thrown in the ocean, her body bound by thick ropes, and Judson; half unconscious, taken into the forest by a band of Wrays.

She let out an impulsive scream and threw a crystal. It shattered to pieces against the wall. The sound of her heart throbbing in her ears was a melody in comparison to how much she vibrated with hurt and anger. She wanted to find those things – every single one in the army that had laid a filthy hand on Judson. She wanted to find them and she wanted to make them pay.

She looked down at her wrist where her bracelets hung – over a thousand priceless stones glittering on weed ropes. Her other hand was empty. Calaire had been confiscated on the day of her arrest as it was the said weapon used in an attempt to attack a high ranking fleet soldier.

She sighed and dropped to the bed again, her anger redirecting to Brijjet.

What was he doing?

He had promised to tell the King everything that they had seen concerning the war, but now, she doubted that he even remembered her or cared about finding Judson.

She shut her eyes, hoping to fall asleep and forget about every thought that proved a bother, but a different trouble awaited in her sleep. The crystal in her hand glowed as she slowly drifted into a dream state and back to the familiar field she visited whenever she slept.

The field was half overtaken by heavy smoke – remnants of a large fire. The ground was murky, and Waverly's boots made squishing noises as she walked across it. She could not see ahead, or what laid below, but every now and then, she felt a hard crunch underneath her shoes as if she trampled on thick dry sticks. The atmosphere was thick with the smell of blood and sweat. Flies buzzed in great numbers all around, but Waverly could not see what they perched on.

The smoky fog stung her eyes, making it difficult to keep them open. She took careful, staggering steps, each one heavier than the last as her shoes found it a struggle to disconnect with the sticky ground. Yet, Waverly kept on walking. Deeper into the fog she went until she came into a part where the fires still burned.

Everything was black and charred.

Somehow she could tell the land had once been a forest, but it was impossible to be certain. Every tree and every plant had burned to ash. Nothing was alive. Nothing stirred. The world was quiet.

Waverly wanted to call out, but wondered to whom?

Then suddenly, something as weightless as wind lifted her off her feet. It kept her balanced as she soared higher until she was levitated high enough to see the wide stretch of land. Like a gust of wind, the smoke cleared off completely, allowing her glimpse the land below.

A sharp cry exited her mouth as she realized the cause of so much flies. There were bodies everywhere as far as the eyes could see. Some were dressed as locals, some in half armor. There were men and women and children – all lying dead on the ground, encompassed by flies.

It took another moment for Waverly to recognize the specie – Shades.

She choked and averted her eyes. The world shifted as she did, bringing her to a different place.

This time, she stood by a beautiful spring that flowed off a low rock face creating six small falls; all of which flowed down into a very long, clear stream in the heart of a green forest. There were evergreen trees all around save for the centre where the stream flowed. The air was slightly humid and almost foggy indicating that it was autumn.

Waverly immediately recognized the realm. It was Bremeton. She knew the seasons all too well.

She hastily crossed the stream and ventured into the other side of the forest. She walked quickly, faintly aware that she was dreaming and would soon wake and that this part of the dream was new. Her fast walk soon became a run until she emerged into a clearing.

A large town.

She recognized it at once. It was called LittleBrick, and was not too far from Breighum. She had seen enough of its roads during her days of smuggling cotton sugar out of Breighum. LittleBrick was bigger than Lake Borough, but the latter held a larger population. LittleBrick folk were farmers and bricklayers. They were hired to build brick houses for other towns and villages. They also thrived on the trade of gold, vegetables, confectionaries and music.

LittleBrick was a peaceful place and less rowdier than most Bremetonian dwellings. It was where Judson got his seeds from.

Waverly watched the town with her eyes peeled for any abnormalities, but everything seemed fine. Then out of nowhere, a large bird swooped in and snatched up something from a distant house. A loud scream followed, and then a cry. She watched as the bird flew off with its catch. It zoomed directly overhead and she started in shock when she heard the scream of the prey hanging off the bird's sharp claws. It was a little boy.

Glancing uneasily at the sky, she waited for another bird, but none came then darted back into the forest, running at top speed in pursuit of the bird. It gave a piercing cry and Waverly knew instantly that it was an eagle. Her chase led her through forest, bramble, thicket, glade and a surreal valley with sloping green hills on each side until she spilled into a wood. There, it was easier to see the eagle from above the trees.

She continued to run oblivious to the fact that she had run for hours and was not yet tired. The eagle constantly cried out as if it wanted her to keep to its tail. The wood bled into a thick forest and finally yawned into a dangerous cliff side that looked out into a blue ocean with white foams accompanying its rolling waves, and this was where Waverly's run came to an end.

She bit her lip in anger as she watched the eagle fly on with the child in its grasp. Inching towards the edge of the cliff, she peered down into the blue, feeling a strange prompting to jump, but decided immediately against it. There was no way on earth she could swim all the way to wherever the bird was headed.

Suddenly, she was pulled back to the town of LittleBrick where a greater disaster was taking place. Men were being rounded up, chained to one another or individually. Women were pushed aside with their infants; the ones who tried to fight were struck, whipped, or instantly killed. Their oppressors were creatures Waverly had seen before; Hags, Cruels, Quagmires and Outcasts. The buff men led the assault on their captives. Many were hurt badly, others were impaled to teach a lesson, or for fun.

Children cried and trembled as they witnessed their parents being manhandled. They gathered in silence in front of a house where spices hung from the low stall before it. More joined them after being carelessly shoved for trying to go close to their mother or father.

Waverly wanted to do something; to protest, to scream at the Outcasts to stop, but her voice was lost and she was powerless as this was only a dream.

Then, another great bird swooped down. This time, it did not pick a child. Instead it landed and lowered its large head in reverence to someone obstructed from sight by a house. The other creatures suddenly did likewise and forced their captives to imitate them.

Waverly advanced to see what everyone was paying fearful reverence to.

Her breath caught when she spotted the behind of a magnificent lioness – Malvarëken. Waverly inched back to stay out of reach of the lioness's long tail that whipped mercilessly about. She stepped around the lioness and came face to face with Judson.

He looked oddly different, clean and relaxed.

She stared intently at his calm face as he spoke to the gathering. His voice carried so much authority and a strange heaviness with it that many of the creatures fell to their knees again even after being permitted to rise.

". . . the ones that are useful." Judson was speaking. "Those who cannot serve must be killed at once. I will not have a rebellion in my time."

An Outcast, a man dressed in smart clothing, bowed low. "Yes, my Emperor."

"Bring the male children to my realm and dispose of the rest. Take the men, do not spare the women." He added.

Waverly was shocked to the bone to hear him speak such vile words as easy as one could say anything else. His tone was flat, void of malice nor disdain, and he sounded very casual as if he ordered for a barrel of fish to be smoked.

She wanted to reach out and touch him, but could not bring herself to move. Just then, she noticed what had made him look so different. His white wing was black. It matched with the other one so well that it was impossible to tell which had been white.

He turned to Malvarëken. "Make sure no one escapes this place. If they do, kill them. Seal all the borders, none must know of our business until the time is right."

Malvarëken bowed lower than the Outcast had done. "I hear and obey, My Emperor."

Her voice rattled Waverly in many unpleasant ways. The creature regally strolled past the Outcasts and roared orders at the others. Judson stood still, watching everything with fog gray eyes. His skin looked less paler, almost bursting with color. She remembered with a sick feeling how his skin could change color in accordance with his emotions.

As he watched women being slaughtered and children massacred, his eyes brightened only a tad and his skin turned a very light shade of peach. He was happy.

Waverly retched and fell to the ground, unable to throw up. Judson slowly walked forward, and just when he passed by her, he said in a low, clear tone as if to his and her hearing alone.

"This is only a taste of what is to come."

The screams that followed jerked Waverly up from the bed. With heavy pants, she quickly scanned the room for any sign of Judson or the screaming captives, but there was no one.

She was alone.

She stared down at her hand where something hot was pressed against it. The crystal was steaming as the last of a blood red color faded from it, returning it to its normal icy blue. She pulled her hand from under it, wondering if the crystal had been reacting to her dreams. Jumping off the bed, she headed for the bath and splashed water on her face. Her body clock told her that it was twilight. She stared into the water inside the white ceramic bowl shaped like a basket, trying to hold together the nightmare she had just woken up from.

One thing was evidently clear – Judson had Oculmus living inside of him. He had given in to his burden, allowing for the Emperor to use him and now everyone was in peril because of it; including himself.

Chimbley had been right after all.

Feeling weak, Waverly slumped to the floor and cried for hours. She felt better afterwards, but the horror of her dreams and the fact that it was possibly the same as reality haunted her. She wished more than anything to talk to Halfhyde. She wanted to tell him as much as her strength would let her.

Just then, Cassiope floated through the wall.

"Hello, Waverly, friend. A good morning to. . ." She halted when she saw the former's reddened eyes and hurried to kneel next to her. "Why do you shed tears?"

Waverly sniffled. Her voice cracked and sounded raspy from crying. "I wish I could see my father, or speak to him. He would understand."

Cassiope's eyes softened. "I know. I brought you these."

Waverly looked up. "Brought me what?"

Cassiope took her hand and led her out of the bath. Lying inside Waverly's empty tray was a quill, a vial of black ink, and a thin brown parchment. Perching next to the tray was a grey and white pigeon.

"This is Goody." Cassiope cheerfully announced. "He is a good bird, you see. He will deliver messages anywhere. Goody is gooder than I am at delivering messages."

Her last comment was accompanied by a bright smile.

Waverly opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came. She simply turned and hugged Cassiope.

"Many thanks." She whispered.

Cassiope giggled and patted her gently on the back. "As long as you stop crying, I will be pleased."

Waverly broke off from the hug and went to Goody the pigeon. One logical question escaped her lips before she even thought of it.

"How will he fly out of here and back in?"

"Oh, that will be my task. I can smuggle Goody with me the way I brought him in here."

"Will he not get lost during an errand?" She wondered in concern.

The bird cooed and pecked at the empty tray.

"No. Goody knows everywhere and can find anyone. Just tell him who you want him to find and where and Goody will fly to and to until he does."

Waverly sighed and poured herself a goblet of water as her throat felt parched from crying. "That is good. I will write to Pa and tell him everything."

"Will you tell your Pa about me?" Cassiope asked hopefully, teetering back and forth on her heels.

Waverly smiled and put down the empty goblet. "I most certainly will."

Cassiope made a hurrah sound and tumbled out of the room, leaving a sprinkle of purple dust and sweet perfume in her wake.

Waverly took out the quill, ink and parchment, and sat down on the floor. The tray quickly filled up with food as soon the materials were taken out. She dipped the quill inside the ink and held it above the parchment, racking her brain on what to write. She sat still for a long time, speechless in her mind. There was so much she wanted to say, yet she found no words to describe them.

After an hour of sitting still with Goody pecking at her meal, she decided to write the first two words that materialized in her head.

"Dear Pa. . ."