Private Chrysalis

1st Stage

Wednesday dreamed she was back in her old home, deep within the walls of her family library. She glided thoughtlessly through the rows and rows of books, all the knowledge that she’d been eager to absorb ever since she was a young girl.

She was that young girl, in the dream, wearing a plain dress, her stubby little legs carrying her weightlessly through the hazy memory. Her body moved with no thought of her own, as if Wednesday were a passenger within her own head.

She eventually came to a stop, turning to one of the shelves, standing on her tippy toes to reach the book she’d apparently been searching for. She clutched the thick, heavy tome to her chest, and waddled over to the nearest desk, scooting into the seat and placing the book down upon the table.

The words were too blurry for her to read in the dreams, the pages indistinct. None of that was important, though. The girl who read the books hummed to herself, content, happy, Wednesday felt that well enough.

As she idly flicked through the pages though, something started to take shape within. There was a stain between the blurry words. A dark, ink-like blotch, so dark in her vision that it strained her eyes against the white page. She turned to the next page, and the stain was there again, only larger.

Wednesday felt the ache increase with every second she stared at it, yet she couldn’t turn to look away, couldn’t make her hands flip the page faster. The young girl who’s eyes she watched through continued to read the book at the same calm, relaxed pace, and the darkness bored into her mind with every second she was forced to see it.

The pages continued to turn, the dark growing larger, more distinct. Parts of it extended out into spiralling, elongated shapes, like grasping limbs reaching out from the centre. The warm, comforting library faded from her peripheral vision as the thing took up more and more of the pages, the pressure on her head increasing until her brain pounded.

Helplessly, she watched as the dark reached towards the edge of the page, right where he finger touched the page. With each flip it grew closer. Closer. Closer.

It touched.

And then she woke, body covered in sweat, breath ragged as her eye snapped open, staring at the ceiling.

She rose from the bed, groggy, rubbing her forehead. The details of the dream were already fading from her mind, making her frown in annoyance. Slowly, she slipped out from under the covers, reaching for her glasses as she moved to her desk. She was already up, might as well get some work done before she tried to sleep again.

She opened one of her notebooks and started writing, the pen gliding across the page, continuing on with her latest magical equations and theories. She yawned, struggling to keep her eye open as she scribbled, darkness slowly encroaching on her vision until her head started to slump…

She jolted back awake, yawning some more, blinking as she refocused her attention on the page. Then she went completely still.

She’d drawn the symbol from her dream on the page.

It didn’t hurt to look at this time, though the fact she’d drawn it without even meaning to unnerved her. She inspected it closer this time, taking in the arcane spirals and curves of the symbol.

Something clicked, in the back of her mind. She flicked back to some of her earlier notes, comparing the arcane symbols she’d been working on with what she’d drawn. It was, well, different from her own symbol magic, foreign. But with a little bit of adjustment...not only did it mesh properly but it could help her finish some spells she'd been working on.

Sleep could wait, she decided, turning to a clean page to start again with this new information.

The question of why she'd seen it in her dreams faded to the back of her mind.

2nd Stage

She didn’t remember the dreams once she awoke.

It annoyed her as she went about her day, even if she couldn’t articulate why. All she knew is that there was something she was forgetting, whether it was even important or not she couldn’t say.

She tried not to let it show though. She felt...good. Surprisingly good, better than she had in a long time. She felt energetic even if she was sleeping less than she normally did.

She didn’t even feel the Hungers gaze on her. She felt safe again.

—-

Her dreams went further during the night.

She was home again, following a tall, stern older woman through a garden. The Verdun witches maintained a sizable garden, plants collected from all over the world were grown there, mostly to grow reagents used in spellcraft, though some of them were kept for their appearance as well.

Before Wednesday had truly been accepted as a daughter of the witch clan, before she’d been forced to take a new name and was still called Reina, she often did most of the physical labour around their home. The curse hadn’t left its mark on her at the time, which meant none of her characteristic weakness had developed yet.

There were many days like this back then, where she’d followed the Matriarch of the clan through the garden, small basket slung over her shoulder and thick gardeners gloves over her hands. The woman who would eventually be called her mother spoke, her words lost to the hazy memory of the dream, but the young Reina knew which plants to grab. A bright, vibrant flower plucked from here, some thick leaves from there. Sometimes she had to reach deeper, digging through the dirt to grab at the roots of some older, riper plants and tugging hard before they came loose.

The Matriarch gave no comment on her progress, her old, wrinkled face barely even acknowledged the small green girl. It would be a long time before Reina even saw the old witch smile, before she gave her anything resembling approval, even affection. For now, all she cared about was the work and her obedience.

The dream played out similarly to the last, with Wednesday feeling as if she were on autopilot, watching passively as her hands collected the plants.

Only to be interrupted by a sharp stabbing pain as she thoughtlessly pushed her hands against the wrong bush, feeling her skin break against the sharp thorns that lined the stem of the plant. The Matriarch turned sharply, and a harsh, guttural sound bleated from her mouth, too distorted to make out any words in the hazy dreamscape. Reina cowered, head shrinking into her shoulders as she looked at her feet, muttering a wordless apology to the older witch.

She felt the witches gaze remain on her as she reached out for another plant, a flower with wide petals and dark colours. Her fingers grazed its stem, and again she felt the sharp pain, again the subtle warble of the Matriarchs voice. The garden seemed to darken as the older witch loomed over her, causing the girl to shudder in fear and anxiety.

Her hand reached out again, this time lacking the certainty it had before. Which plant did she want? The Matriarch had gone over what they were planning to do that day, Reina was expected to know all this already.

Every plant she reached for had the same effect, the same stab of pain, the same bleating growing louder and louder, the anger in the matriarch growing even more oppressive.

Reina didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what would please her, the older witch loomed larger and the twisted branches of the garden grew around her and Reina realised she was sinking, the soft ground at her feet pulling her lower and lower with every passing moment. She sank so low that she could barely make out the matriarchs features anymore as her dark eyes bored down at her, the twisting branches growing long and rigid like teeth closing in around her-

—-

She awoke this time with a scream, bolting upright, both hands raising in front of her, the magic to cast a spell right at her fingertips.

But there was nothing. Wednesday was alone in her room, just like she was when she’d fallen asleep. Slowly, the fear faded, her breath slowed, one hand moving to rub at her temple as she reflected on...what was it? The dream had just ended and already the details were fading.

With a soft groan, she reached over to her bedside table and grabbed her phone. It was late, very late.

She sighed, no reason to pester any of her friends at this time. She put it back down before getting up from the bed, moving to grab some clothes from her closet. Wednesday was still feeling charged after that dream, maybe a quick walk would help her get back to sleep.