The scream had him convulsing before he even heard it. It was a good thing Erelyn hadn't been in his bed tonight, as Lahkin kicked and bit frantically against some enemy he couldn't see, tangling himself uselessly in the sheets. When he finally flailed his way out of the bed with a bruising thump, Lahkin stopped to pant, his bearings slowly coming back to him.
The colors of the spirit world wavered in his other sight, like the ripples from a large stone thrown into the other side of a pond. The scream still echoed in his head, but it was slowly fading, like the fear--and the anger--that trickled down through the spirit world to him.
He knew that voice, even though he had never heard it in the waking world. Like a footprint in the farm soil of Westfall, or the finger oils on a troll charm from Lor'danel...
"It's over," Lahkin whispered.
Lahkin shivered as the pained imprint distilled out of the colors of his other-sight, blacks and reds and purples returning to the muddy browns of normalcy. The spirit who had made that scream might as well have never been. Lahkin's head dropped back on the floorboards, body chilled now that his nervous sweat was drying.
Over...
Somewhere, a rooster started crowing the hour. Daisy coo-ed from her small bed, the kind that usually heralded the appearance of a rambunctious toddler wanting pancakes cooked by her big brother. Lahkin pulled himself upright, wiping his forehead on the bedsheets.
There was still a little twinge hanging in the spirit colors before him, sad and blue, like the fatigue of a dream. Lahkin reached out to touch it. Just as his fingers closed around it, a network of grey and orange to his spirit sight, the tendril winked out of sight, too.
Dreejin was gone.
The colors of the spirit world wavered in his other sight, like the ripples from a large stone thrown into the other side of a pond. The scream still echoed in his head, but it was slowly fading, like the fear--and the anger--that trickled down through the spirit world to him.
He knew that voice, even though he had never heard it in the waking world. Like a footprint in the farm soil of Westfall, or the finger oils on a troll charm from Lor'danel...
"It's over," Lahkin whispered.
Lahkin shivered as the pained imprint distilled out of the colors of his other-sight, blacks and reds and purples returning to the muddy browns of normalcy. The spirit who had made that scream might as well have never been. Lahkin's head dropped back on the floorboards, body chilled now that his nervous sweat was drying.
Over...
Somewhere, a rooster started crowing the hour. Daisy coo-ed from her small bed, the kind that usually heralded the appearance of a rambunctious toddler wanting pancakes cooked by her big brother. Lahkin pulled himself upright, wiping his forehead on the bedsheets.
There was still a little twinge hanging in the spirit colors before him, sad and blue, like the fatigue of a dream. Lahkin reached out to touch it. Just as his fingers closed around it, a network of grey and orange to his spirit sight, the tendril winked out of sight, too.
Dreejin was gone.
Edited by Lahkin on 3/9/2012 10:17 PM PST