The rain had stopped sometime in the night.
Alaric stared at the ceiling above his bunk, listening to the slow breathing of the other children. Only a thin strip of moonlight slipped through the shutters, silvering the room.
The Primer of the Sixfold Arts lay under his pillow, its corners digging into his cheek. He'd tried to read until his eyes blurred, but the letters still danced sometimes, refusing to stay in tidy lines.
He closed his eyes.
Fire. White sky. Shuru.
His chest tightened. Sleep came in fits.
He was back in the barrel. Smoke clawed at his throat. The lid wouldn't move. Outside, boots and screams and—
The sound warped. Changed.
Sirens. Not village shouts, but sharp, rising tones that cut straight into his bones. Red lights reflected in glass towers. People ran.
".....they launched, they actually launched...."
His own feet pounded on cracked asphalt. His lungs burned. The sky.....
The sky was blooming into a second sun.
"No!"
He jerked upright, heart slamming, fingers tangled in his blanket.
The dorm was dark. No sirens. No flames. Just the soft rumble of someone snoring and the faint drip of water from the eaves.
He pressed a shaking hand to his mouth.
Just a dream. Again.
But it didn't feel like just anything.
The bed across from him creaked. A small head popped up over the blanket.....someone with braids and round eyes, squinting through the dark.
"You okay?" she whispered.
"I'm fine," Alaric lied as he breathes. His throat still hurt.
The girl stared for a moment longer, then flopped back down. Within seconds, she'd melted back into the chorus of quiet breaths.
He lay down again, curling around his bag like a shield.
His mind replayed the dreams in pieces.
Two different fires. Two different skies. Same helpless feeling.
You couldn't do anything either time, a familiar sour thought whispered.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Shut up," he muttered into the pillow.
The inner voice didn't answer, but it didn't go away either. It just settled somewhere deep, heavy and cold.
Eventually, exhausted, he drifted into a thin, dreamless sleep.
Morning came too soon.