Chapter 33 – Between Dreams and Reality

Chapter 33 – Between Dreams and Reality

Caspian dreamed a familiar dream. Or perhaps this was reality. He could no longer tell.

The room around him lay swallowed in darkness. Heavy curtains smothered every window, choking out even the faintest hint of moonlight. The air was stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood and something older beneath it, something rotten, something that had been festering for a long time. The bed felt too soft, too yielding, as if it might swallow him whole if he relaxed for even a moment.

In the dream, his wife was glaring at him.

Hatred burned in Selina’s eyes. Ah. Then this must be a nightmare; his Selina would never look at him like that.

“You ruined your mother,” she spat. Her voice trembled, not from weakness but from fury, from despair that had curdled into something sharp.

A thin trail of blood slipped from the corner of her lips and ran down her chin, stark against her pale skin. The empty cup in his hand felt suddenly heavier than iron. He could still feel the warmth that had once filled it. She had not been able to resist. Not this time.

“Don’t ruin me too.” Her voice broke on the last word.

“I just want to die as a human. Is that too much to ask, Caspian? Tell me. Is it too much?” Her fingers clenched weakly against the sheets, knuckles white despite how thin she had become. “Why are you trying to turn me into a monster like Camilla?”

“My mother is not a monster,” he said. His voice came out flat, hollow, as though the words had been spoken by someone else entirely.

The name lingered in the air between them.

Camilla.

A pair of gleaming red eyes rose unbidden in his mind, vivid and intoxicating, and his thoughts blurred at the edges like ink dissolving in water.

It was a good thing, wasn’t it, that she had grown younger, stronger, more beautiful?

Yes. Nothing was wrong. A little blood, that was all it took. A small price, a necessary price. A loving son would pay far more.

He remembered the sensation of her fangs sinking into his neck. The sharp sting. The slow, spreading warmth that followed, and the surrender that came after: pleasure curling through his body like a living thing, coiling tight around his spine. His breath hitched. A shiver ran through him. Something inside him recoiled while something else leaned hungrily into it. He forced that crawling, sickening desire down with what remained of his will.

Too late. Selina was staring at him, her eyes wild and bright with accusation.

“Of course you would say that!” she cried. “Of course you would defend her! Do you like that shameless slut that much? Are you proud of what you’ve turned her into? Is that why you’re doing this? Is that what you want me to become?”

Her laugh came out thin and broken. “Was I too boring for you, your grace?”

Fury surged through him, hot and blinding. “I am trying to save you!” he snapped, his voice shaking. “Both of you! I—”

The words died in his throat, because even to his own ears, they rang hollow.

He just wanted them to live. No matter the cost. No matter the form. He just wanted to be a good husband, a good son. Why was that so hard to understand? Why was he the only one suffering for it?

Then Camilla’s voice curled through his thoughts, warm and intimate and possessive. Your wife is unwell, my sweet darling. She does not understand what she says. A phantom touch brushed along his neck, cold and familiar. Your blood is the only cure. Why do you hesitate? His breath slowed. His thoughts softened. Ignore her delirium. Come now. Be kind to her.

The memory of Camilla’s body pressed against his rose unbidden: cool skin, impossibly smooth, the slow curve of her smile, the way her breath ghosted across his ear as she murmured praise into the dark.

Just one sip. From here. A gentle pressure at the nape of his neck. And she will be whole again. Just like me. Don’t you want that, Caspian? A happy family. The words settled deep, like stones sinking through still water. Forget the Goddesses. What have they ever given you? Embrace the pleasure. Embrace the darkness. And prosper, my dear.

Something flickered: a memory, a fragment, something from after he had given in, after he had let her drink, after—

Red eyes. Endless red.

Caspian blinked, and the thought slipped away. What had he been thinking about? It didn’t matter. His mother had gotten better. That was what mattered. Selina could too. She just didn’t understand yet.

He exhaled slowly. The chains binding Selina’s wrists rattled softly as she shifted against the restraints. The sound felt wrong in the stillness of the room, too loud and too sharp.

“Husband…?” Her voice was cautious now, fragile, hopeful despite everything.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, and reached for the shackles. His hands were steady as he unlocked them. Metal fell away with a dull clink, and before she could speak again, he pulled her into his arms.

Her body was alarmingly light. Fragile. He could feel every sharp line of bone beneath her skin, and he instinctively loosened his hold, afraid she might break if he held her too tightly.

She struggled, weakly at first, then with growing desperation.

“No… wait, Caspian, don’t—”

“I just want you to live, Selina,” he whispered into her dry, brittle hair. “No matter what you become. No matter what happens.” His arms tightened, just a little. “I will always love you.”

She did not answer. Her breath came uneven against his skin, cold, so very cold, and a damp warmth gathered at the nape of his neck. Saliva. His pulse quickened.

Good.

She needed this.

He needed this.

He needed to feel it: the piercing of her fangs, the rush of pain, the flood of pleasure. He needed it from her. From his true wife. So that he could forget—

He cut the thought off and closed his eyes.

Caspian waited for pain, for release, for something, anything.

Nothing came.

Instead, a gentle light began to seep into the darkness, soft and warm and unfamiliar. When Caspian’s eyes opened, Selina was no longer in his arms.

She knelt upon the floor, her frail body bent forward, her forehead pressed against the ground. Her fingers clutched desperately at the hem of pristine white robes that seemed to glow with a light of their own.

“Divine and Merciful Mother,” she sobbed, her voice breaking between breaths. “Please, please save my family.”

Caspian stared.

When had she moved? Had he… lost time again? His thoughts felt sluggish, like they had to push through layers of fog just to form.

He watched with a strange detachment.

Ah. Another dream.

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Another variation.

After the Goddess of Light, now it was the Goddess of Life’s turn. She would condemn him, would she not? Speak of his failings, his lack of faith, his weakness.

How tiresome. Why had he ever worshipped beings who only came to judge?

He waited.

For wrath. For condemnation. For divine fire to descend upon his tainted wife.

None came.

The Goddess simply looked at Selina, her expression troubled. And then she knelt. The motion was so natural, so unhurried, that it stole the breath from his lungs. She gathered Selina into her arms and held her with a gentleness that seemed to quiet the very air around them.

“Shh, it’s alright now, Selina.” Her voice flowed like a hymn remembered from childhood, warm and steady and certain. “You’ve done so well. I’m so proud of you. Truly. You held on longer than anyone could have asked.”

Selina clung to her, her sobs breaking completely.