This is Part 48 of an on-going serial I’m writing called, “Lyr the Enchanter”. To read the story from the beginning, you can find the story index, here.
It was like water. I felt it flowing, and I was moving with the current – at least, when I got used to the magic. At first, I was unsure and fought against it, but The Hag was there with her words of encouragement.
‘Be calm, Lyr,’ I heard her whisper. ‘It’s the same magic you have inside of you. The same magic you use for dream-weaving, only stronger. Don’t fight it. It can’t hurt you.’
And that’s when everything changed. I could see the magic, like the surface of a river. It ebbed and flowed, and small waves rippled across it. Indistinct shapes, hundreds, no, thousands flittered over it, before being lost to the stream. This was the magic of the dream-weavers, and these, I guessed, must have been the dreams they were enchanting, or maybe had enchanted, or perhaps might enchant in the future…
Written for Crimson’s Creative Challenge #48 | Word count: 145