(The events of this chapter take place after Faerie Bound chapter "Heartache and Hope")
I awoke the next morning, still sprawled on the bed and shivvering, despite the fact I wasn't even cold. My head was still full of the memories of the dream I'd had.
A dream that seemed so strangely familiar.
It had been raining, that I knew, and I'd been sitting beneath a tree. Wet and cold, I'd just sat and moped, wondering what the point of this dream was if all I was going to do was wait and freeze to death. Metaphorically speaking of course.
Then, completely out of nowhere, a fire had appeared before me. I'd jumped back, alarmed. Why on earth had that just appeared there? Was someone watching me? I'd sat back down beside the fire, still peering around looking for whoever it was that had started it.
Then I'd heard the singing. Someone was singing to me, someone nearby. Almost like they were beside me, although I could see clearly there was no-one there.
And they sang with Morgan's voice.
Upon realising this, I'd woken with a jolt.
How had she done that? I broke the link didn't I? Why is she still in my head if the link is broken?
She might not be in your head you dolt, you're just remembering her voice.
But I swear I could feel her prescence, it was like she was really there!
You're being stupid, she wasn't there, you'd at least have sensed her.
But none the less, it was eerily realistic.
Mind still reeling, I stood up and looked about the hut. It was still deserted, just as it had been the night before. Mike's sword lay where I had left it beside the bed, the steel glinting coldly in the morning light.
I picked it up and examined the blade. It really was beautiful.
I'd have to spell it later to make it more effective against whatever horrors I might come up against when I got off the island.
If I ever got off the island, I had no idea how I was going to do that. Perhaps there's a dock here somewhere, maybe I can borrow a boat. If the worst comes to the worst I'll swim, because I'm not staying here. I'd better get moving.
I slid the blade into a small scabbard in my belt, usually used for the other blade, which was now in it's knife form in my pocket.I just hoped there aren't laws against carrying weapons here, or I'd be in deep trouble.
Not bothering with food, I pushed open the hut door and strode off, the fire and song from my dream still in my head.
It felt like the fire was still there, at the edge of my mind, calling to me.
Calling to me to come home.
Whatever that meant.