Cassandra looked up at the sound of her own name. She saw the owl and dismissed it as her imagination. Then again, she realized she was in a forest. And she had no memory of entering a forest. Something was not right here, but she couldn't quite figure out what it was.
She tried to remember as far back as she could, but her life felt like a blur of eyes. Priam's disapproving eyes. Apollo's cruel eyes. Othryoneus' kind eyes. Even Helen's skeptical, scornful eyes. And there were new ones too. The names came to her. Bret. Cordelia. Cris. Rowan. The forest was in Rowan.
But why would she venture into the forest? She was not so bold.
He caught glimpses of the Laurel-God, gold and sharp with her fear and resentment and more tangled things, refracted through her panic. What a fool, Rusoren thought, to waste talent like this over flesh.
The edges of the forest blurred around him, trees whipping and bleeding together in the chaos of her rising nightmare.
We are in your dreams, child. Calm yourself, or you will summon your terrors to converge on us.
That was accurate, but probably less than reassuring. His voice gentled into something almost crooning.
"What do you want with me?" Cassandra asked, feeling the colors swirl in her eyes. She blinked back the confusion. She was nothing to the gods of this world. At most, an intruder, more likely, an inconvenience to be dealt with by the lower beings. At least, that was what she allowed herself to believe for the time being.
Cassandra took a deep breath. Could you breathe in a dream? It seemed so. "Summon my terrors to converge on us? What does that mean?" She tried to keep her voice level.
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She tried to remember as far back as she could, but her life felt like a blur of eyes. Priam's disapproving eyes. Apollo's cruel eyes. Othryoneus' kind eyes. Even Helen's skeptical, scornful eyes. And there were new ones too. The names came to her. Bret. Cordelia. Cris. Rowan. The forest was in Rowan.
But why would she venture into the forest? She was not so bold.
Cassandra watched the owl.
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I am Rusoren, God of this place.
His voice was filled with owl sounds, hoots and shrieks as well as lower, pained human moans.
I wish to speak with you, bright one.
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Shit.
She picked up a branch to throw at the owl. Laurel. She let out a scream, dropping it.
No, no, no. This couldn't be happening. It was a dream, a nightmare.
"No, no, no," she whispered aloud.
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The edges of the forest blurred around him, trees whipping and bleeding together in the chaos of her rising nightmare.
We are in your dreams, child. Calm yourself, or you will summon your terrors to converge on us.
That was accurate, but probably less than reassuring. His voice gentled into something almost crooning.
I wish only to speak. Can you not face that?
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Cassandra took a deep breath. Could you breathe in a dream? It seemed so. "Summon my terrors to converge on us? What does that mean?" She tried to keep her voice level.
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