16. Dance - Rhythm of Nightmares

Tap
Tap
Tap –

Tap
Tap
Tap –

The rhythmic tapping of shoes on a polished, wooden floor fills your ears. Loud over the sound of a quartet playing in the far corner. Louder still over the sounds of conversation –

What conversation?

– and shrill laughter.

Every step made in tandem. A chorus of movement as the people around you dance as one, and you too fall into a step you are deftly familiar with, skills echoing through the years, never forgotten.

The difference is you are dancing alone. Until you aren't. Until someone steps across your path and wraps an arm around your waist, their other hand clasping one of yours.

You expect a modicum amount of shock to well up in your chest–

Who grabbed me, why, how dare they.

– but it never does. You glance up with a smile, cheeks flushed pink, and come face to face with Varis. Blue eyes sparkle under the artificial lights. He wears a smile just as bright. When you step forward, he steps back, unspoken as the two of you waltz your way across the floor.

At one point, after minutes or hours of simply dancing, he twirls you away. For a moment you worry that you may never stop, but then someone else steps into your space. Slows your twisting until you enter that graceful waltz once more.

This time, it is Callie who guides your way. Grey eyes, soft and sincere, storm clouds swirling, seething, wrong wrong wrong–

“You’re good at dancing,” she starts, before twirling you away, just as Varis had done.

You spin a little less than the first time. Take fewer steps. Expecting to be caught by Callie, but caught off guard when the person is taller, staring down at you with amber eyes, burning holes into the recesses of your soul. “Where did you learn?” he asks, tone curious, too sharp, don’t answer, it's a trap.

Your mouth moves, but no sound escapes.

All around you, faceless people turn to watch, intent on listening to an answer you can’t seem to give. They blur and shift like shadows along a wall, rather than people shifting across a floor.

You close your eyes. Tightly screw them shut, to the point that pain begins to prickle behind eyelids, and when you open them again a different figure stands in front of you.

Sariel–

Yevelda…

– stands before you, brows furrowed.

Are the walls closing in?

Less people stand around you. You’re sure of it. Yet it still feels crowded, suffocating, and as you gasp for air, and gasp and gasp again, Sariel reaches out to place a hand on your shoulder.

Gentle. Crippling.

“What’s wrong, [name]?” she asks, frown slowly creeping upwards.

At the same time, another voice calls out to you, speaking over the music and the feet still tapping, still twirling.

“Wake up, [name]! You have to wake up!”

“Stop,” you say. Voice hoarse, as if you have been screaming.

Sariel - not Sariel, Luth now, smiling too wide and too full of teeth - doesn’t even flinch at the sound. That cruel smile burns a horrid picture across your irises. So focused on Luth’s piercing gaze that you don’t notice his hand reaching out.

“Yevelda, do something!”

“Shut up, idiot, let me think!”

“[She’s] not breathing!”

Something sharp pricks at your skin. Pain radiating at the source, a knife to the gut, a gift from a friend, a lie a lie a lie a lie–

Your eyes snap open to a blinding sunlight and your friends surrounding you. Kneeling at your side, six pairs of eyes wide and filled with varying degrees of shock and horror. Save for Yevelda, whose gaze looks mild in comparison to the others.

“Next time,” she says softly, expression relaxing into relief, “if you’re so keen on exploring the Iyre Woods, don’t go alone…”