Of Mortal Dreams: Chapter I

Adevan

“Adevan.”

The sharpness in Sisela’s voice brought Adevan back to where he stood. They were in a circular stone room with scrolls lining the walls in specially made shelves, similar to those that would hold wine jugs. A round table lay at its center, with rough-hewn wooden stools all around and a formidable antler candelabra overhead. A lone armchair made of interwoven wood slats and animal skins sat by the only window in the room. Beside it, half facing that window, stood a thin woman of average height, leaning on a walking stick, her grey hair pulled back, away from her face. Her eyes were shadowed but he could feel her peering at him.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Adevan took a breath, pulling his hearing back from afar, from the common argument he had been overhearing.

“Yes. I just cannot believe that you would try this. Again.”

There was a moment of burdened silence.

“Iven’s drifts have never been wrong,” she insisted, as if she was convincing herself. “And if there is a free mage on the …