Sahar jerked awake with a cry to find that she was sitting on the ground beside her pool, her arms folded onto the raised edge encircling it and her head cradled atop them. Her arms were wet from tears where her face had rested, but as she sat up and looked around in terror, she saw that she was alone. No snakes. No monsters. Nothing to show that any of that nightmare had ever happened, the only evidence of it being the tears in her eyes and her racing heart.
A dream. It was just a dream. But was it? The creature in the dream had said it was a dream, but real, too. That she had invaded her sleep. But was that just her dream psyching her out?
It felt so real. And Sahar felt crazy. If it was real, and she ignored it as just a standard nightmare...
Feeling suddenly ill as she remembered how real the snakes had felt, slithering in her belly, pressing between her legs, she swallowed hard to fight the urge to vomit. Something screamed at her that this was dangerous, and that she shouldn't help a demon no matter the damage because the cost to her soul would be far higher, but she wasn't cut out for this. She was just a priestess. That's all. She wasn't brave like her sister, Nasrin, and god how she wished she was here now. She always knew what to do. But the demon had said to tell no one.
And she wouldn't risk those she loved getting hurt.
She just had to hope Hakeshna was forgiving.
With a deep, trembling breath, she turned her eyes to the pool. If this was only a dream, nothing would happen, and she would have lost nothing.
Please let it be a dream. Only a dream.
She trailed a hand through the water, sending ripples flowing across the pool, and then she stared into the water, at the patterns playing out on the surface. She let them entrance her, let her eyes relax and unfocus, and waited for the images to come alive in the water as she thought about her mission.
Please just be a dream.
The images didn't always come. It wasn't something that could be commanded like other magics; it had to be coaxed, invited. The mind had to be calm and open; stress only made it harder, and to say she was stressed was an understatement. But gradually, to her horror, those ripples began to change shape, and color began to bleed into them like paint dipped in water, and Sahar held her breath as those shapes and watercolors began to take the form of a person.