"Scream for me."

The needle pushed into my arm, threatening to break skin. A damp hand clamped my head down so it wouldn't move.

Seven heads all bared their teeth at me in a forced smile. "If this goes into your bloodstream, you turn into me."

I wanted to reply, but couldn't. My lips sealed themselves shut like they'd been glued.

"Scream, girl."

Strangely, I didn't feel panic. Just the needle against my skin.

Slowly, I shook my head. I would not.

No one needs that sick satisfaction.

The smiles turned to snarls. "Then you become her."

The needle pushed into my arm. The murae mashed the plunger down so its dark red contents emptied into my blood. 

I died, but didn't.

Then, the murae's dark skin turned to a pale white. Its hair (or what passed for hair) went from pitch black to a straw yellow.

It was my father.

My mouth unglued itself. I flicked my dry tongue to my lips to moisten them, but it worked as well as sandpaper.

"Dad..."

I was dying.

Somewhere inside me, I knew it was a dream. I could pick out as much.

But still, I died and my father watched.

Please no. Don't make him watch this.

My heart sped up to a steady thump. Strength came back to my arms and legs.

It wasn't me on the ground, but him. Dad.

I wasn't dying, he was.

Tears of blood squeezed out of the corners of his eyes and traveled to his chin. They traced over the lines on his cheeks and touched his mouth.

His eyes were black.

Dad looked at me and grinned. Blood bubbled at his lips.

"Don't listen," he breathed. "Only believe yourself."

His hands found mine and squeezed, then relaxed. He stared at the never-ending sky, not seeing it, but staring. Forever staring.

"Dad?"

It's just a dream.

"Dad?"

Make him wake up! I don't care if it's a dream anymore, make him wake up!

"Daddy?"

Please...

I closed my eyes, pain traveling through my chest. It hurt--stars, it hurt.

And somehow, I knew that it wasn't the only death I'd seen.

A tear fell down my cheek.

This isn't real.

But it sure as heck feels like it.

It's a dream.

"Dreams are thoughts unspoken," someone whispered.

My eyes flew open. My father was no longer on the dirt ground, and the dirt was no longer dirt.

It was just white.

"Dreams are fears thought through."

I got up. The voice was familiar. It sounded like--

Something seized my shoulder and spun me around. I found myself staring into a set of electric blue eyes. A golden curl fell down to block them and was quickly brushed away.

"If that's the case with dreams," she mused. "Then what am I?"

My throat constricted. I pushed away--away from the girl who spoke, away from the girl who smiled.

Away from the girl who looked like me.

She started to laugh, but it came out as a growl. "You run away, yet you have no idea what I'm going to do."

I bit my lip and tasted blood. "Anything you do isn't good."

She pressed her hand to her chest and feigned hurt. "I'm insulted! What, you think just because your eyes are naturally brown and mine are blue that we are different?"

"No, I think that since you're crazy and I'm not completely there yet we're different."

She smirked and bent down. "I could have been trying to save you from a fall, you know. You might have just plummeted to your death."

I stepped toward her. "The room is a big blob of white that doesn't seem to end. It'd be a little difficult for that to happen."

She snapped her fingers. A hole opened in the floor beneath me. Wind whipped up against my face as I fell, down, down into nothingness.

Lights snapped on. The copycat smiled. "Nonsense. I can just do that."

I clenched my fists. "Make us land."

"Nope."

"Make us land. Now."

She sighed. "You see, if I 'make us land' right now, you'll die in your dream. Dying in dreams wakes you up, and I can't have that now, can I?" She propped up her head with her fist. A little smile played at her lips.

I crossed my arms. I couldn't possibly be that aggravating. If I was, I needed to make sure I apologized to everyone I had ever spoken to.

"What do I need to know so much?"

She clapped her hands. "That's more like it!"

I glared at her.

"Spoilsport," she mumbled. With a snap of her fingers, she brightened. "Do you remember the story your parents used to tell you?"

"You're going to have to be a little more specific."

She rolled her eyes. "Not so long ago, there was a conflict. A war. There had been many wars before, but this was the first that put the people of one country against each other. It was also the first war that there was no specialized army. It was just people against people."

I swallowed. "I know this story. It's the one about the Magic War."

The other smirked. "Tell it to me."

"Um, there was a war. People who had no magic were scared of the people who did. Then a couple of people took over on the no-magic side, giving them magic."

"Stop." She grabbed my hair and pulled it up. "If you won't tell it correctly, then I will."

"Why--"

"Silence!"

Cool metal closed around my lips, clamping them down. I tried to scream, but couldn't.

"How can you speak if you don't have a mouth?" she whispered.

I wanted to kill her so badly.

She straightened. "After a major battle where a good friend died, one man lost his thoughts. He could not use magic and had watched a wielder set his friend ablaze--burning him alive. The man decided that if magic was used to stop magic, then it was fine. So, he found an old laboratory in Arium, near to the castle. And--" the girl placed one of her fingers against my skin "--Injected himself with enough magic to give twelve people miralis."

"But they won the war."

"No. The war was against magic. They won the battle. They thought they won the war. In reality, they lost the war. After the fight--after the man had killed countless people without realizing it, he nearly died, almost getting taken over by the thing that helped him fight. Then, to his surprise, a girl from the other side saved his life."

The clamps vanished. The annoyance that had built up in me while she was telling the story unrolled. "Why are you telling me this?" I screamed. "Why? I don't care about a stupid story!"

"Because of your father, Clair. Your mother and father are the people in this."

I almost laughed. "The man in the story killed people and left his country. My father's never set foot outside Arium."

She smiled. "But he was born in Zelgywn."

He also told me not to believe you.

Evil-Clair shook her head. "No. He told you to believe yourself, and I am you."

"No, you're an evil version of me that exists in my mind."

"You'd be amazed." She stood up. "I am you. I am the piece of you that you've been attempting to control. I live in you. I know your thoughts, fears, memories, feelings--all of it."

She bent down beside me. "If I am you and you are me, and you have to believe only yourself, then what's to stop you from believing me?"

I didn't answer.

She raised her eyebrows. "See? Maybe it's someone else you shouldn't trust."

She snapped her fingers.

I landed in

my

bed

and gasped, throwing the sheets off me. My nightgown stuck to my back, soaked with sweat.

A soft rattle caught my attention. My bed shook like there was an earthquake, but the earthquake was coming for me. I pulled my knees to my chest and squeezed, trying to find comfort from something. My fingers caught in the knots on my hair as I ran them through it over and over.

Dim sunlight streamed through a window to my left. I could barely make out the faint sounds of birds chirping.

It must be early.

There was no force alive that could make me go back to sleep.

My mind kept playing through the dream. All I could see was Dad dead at my feet. All I could feel was that he wasn't the first death I had witnessed.

What worried me most was the dreams that I dreamed and remembered had a twisted habit of at least partially coming true.

They could turn a normal day into deja vú.

"There's been a tear in the timeline," I whispered. "Someone's changed something."

It's what my mother would always say.

I got out of the bed and tossed on the first dress I saw. The sleeves covered my hands and flopped around uselessly.

I ignored them and lay down on my stomach, reaching under the bed for the book I had hidden there the day before.

The book on magic.

I don't know why I wanted it, but I did. I suppose a part of it was because I wanted to see if the crazy part of me talking to the not-so-crazy part of me in a dream happened with miralis.

The other part was probably to get my mind off the dream and onto something else.

I flipped it open and started skimming through for what felt like the millionth time. Everything was the same. All of it told me what I already knew, and that was I was going crazy and there was no known cure other than using magic.

Ugh. Magic.

It was what started the whole problem anyway. Muraes wouldn't have existed without vyechers. Vyechers wouldn't have existed without someone changing animals into monsters--and who in their right mind did that anyway? The person who changed them into monsters wouldn't have been able to without magic. He also wouldn't have had magic if the nations' founders had left it alone.

Everyone gets a taste of power and has to have more. Why can't we be content with what we have?

I started to change the page again, but stopped.

I breathed out. "The type of magic to change one living thing into another is too strong for normal standards. The person who changed animals into vyechers would've had to have an overabundance of it."

My eyes flicked down to the book. The top of the page was labeled miralis.

"The overabundance would've been because of this. It would've been because of miralis. That's the only explanation." My breaths caught in my chest as I scanned the page one more time and found the names at the bottom of the page.

Brennen Aindreas.

My fingers traced over the letters. It was either him or the Calix person who created vyechers. Brennen was the older of the two, so I guessed it was him. I looked a little under their two names and read my father's over and over.

Maktevos Eryk.

It was my father's name. First and last, it was his.

I needed to talk to him.

I needed to talk to either Calix or Brennen, also, but according to the book, I'd be talking to a pile of dust if I spoke to Brennen, and I'd be talking to a pile of bones if I spoke to Calix.

Magic is a powerful thing. It can slow aging.

Miralis gives the person a completely new being inside them who wants to take over.

"This is stupid," I muttered. "I can't believe I'm even thinking about this."

"If I am you and you are me, and you have to believe only yourself, then what's to stop you from believing me?"

But it was just too easily connected. It made sense. Dad knowing magic, his eyes changing color at the party--just like how mine changed color when we got to the castle. He had miralis and somehow, he'd gotten rid of it.

The story. The stupid bedtime story my parents told me for years. They warned me it wasn't happy.

If I had been fed a lie while I slept, it was the most well thought out one I had ever come across.

I swallowed. Answers would only come one way, and I couldn't really go traipsing down the hall and start asking Dad questions.

My heart started to hammer in my chest. What if I could ask him? The old man I had seen my first day at the castle--he was able to transport me to my father so I could talk. What if he could do it again?

I moistened my lips. This is crazy. I don't even know his name, let alone where he would be.

JUST CALL HIM. YOU'D BE SURPRISED.

I winced. Shut up. You're the reason why I'm even trying to do this.

Surprisingly, she didn't say another word.

I cleared my throat. "Um, old guy?"

Nothing.

My heart sank. I looked down at the book and traced over some of the words. Obviously. Who would come to "old guy" anyway?

"I prefer the term, 'experienced.'"

The smile that came from me felt like it was going to swallow my face. I hopped off the bed and couldn't stop my hands from clapping together. "How did you get in here so fast?"

The man just shrugged. "I was nearby."

He said it more like a question than a sentence.

I didn't ask about it anymore, though. Instead, I grabbed the book by its spine and dangled it in front of his face. "You see the name on the bottom?"

He grinned and cocked his head to look at the words. "There are many names at the bottom."

I flipped the book right and sat it on the bed, motioning for him to come over. He did.

"I have a few stops  I'd like to make." I pointed to my father's name. "I think that's my Dad. I think he had what I have. Can you send me to him again?"

The old man didn't move for a moment, then backed away from me with his mouth slightly open.

"He is your father?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Yes."

Why?

His hands shook slightly. He mouthed a few words that I couldn't catch, then nodded his head. "Yes. Yes, I can send you to him again."

"Great!" I jumped onto the bed and crossed my legs. I could feel my breaths quicken, but it wasn't out of fear.

It was curiosity.

The old man stepped closer to me. He made a funny face. "Close your eyes."

I did.

Cool air blew by me, then nothing. I bit my lip. "Can I look now?"

No answer.

"Old-man-that-I-don't-know-the-name-to, can I open my eyes yet?"

Still no answer.

I cracked an eye open. Dim light cast shadows off the cell bars, making black lines streak across the stone floor.

Something rustled from behind me. I gasped and whirled around, ready to bolt.

"Clair?"

I stared at the man who spoke. His face was almost stark white. Dark circles had formed under his eyes like caverns. Thin cuts ran up and down the lower half of his face, the longest one going from just under his right ear to the side of his chin. My gaze found his right arm, where the sleeve from his shirt was torn away. Round red marks with purple around them traveled up and down his skin.

His eyes were the color of blood.

My throat tightened. "Dad?" I choked.

A smile pulled at his lips. "I hope you weren't referring to me as 'old'."

_______________________________________

Welcome to another chapter I had to split on half because it would've gone way over 5k words.