The Dream Manipulator

Raven carried me to the infirmary.

I tried to tell him I could walk, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. Everything was still spinning—the colors, the auras, the death omens pulsing above people's heads like ticking clocks.

The infirmary was quiet. White walls. Sterile smell. Rows of beds with crisp sheets. A woman with silver-streaked hair looked up from her desk as Raven pushed through the door.

"Combat training casualty?" she asked, not sounding surprised.

"Something like that." Raven set me down on the nearest bed. His hands were gentle, but I could feel tension radiating off him in waves. "Check her shoulders. Elena got her claws in."

The woman—the nurse, I assumed—came over and pulled my collar aside. Her fingers were cool against my skin. "Not too deep. I'll clean them and bandage them up." She paused, looking at my face. "You're pale. Are you dizzy? Nauseous?"

"Both," I whispered. The auras were everywhere. Even she had one—soft blue with gray threads running through it. Tired. Sad. Resigned.

"Probably shock," the nurse said. She moved to a cabinet and pulled out supplies. "Lie back. This will sting."

I lay back. The ceiling above me was plain white, but even it seemed to pulse with my heartbeat.

Raven stayed beside the bed, arms crossed. His jaw was tight, that scar through his eyebrow more visible when he frowned. "Where's Instructor Kaine now? Still getting lectured by Prince Perfect?"

"Don't call him that," I said automatically. Then wondered why I was defending Caspian.

Raven's amber eyes locked on mine. "He lets this happen, Sera. These so-called training sessions where humans get torn apart for entertainment. He could stop it if he wanted to."

"Maybe he doesn't know how bad it is." But my voice wavered. I wasn't even convincing myself.

"He knows." Raven's voice was hard. "He just doesn't care."

The nurse returned with antiseptic and bandages. True to her word, it stung like fire when she cleaned the wounds. I dug my fingers into the sheets, biting down on my lip to keep from making a sound.

"You're tougher than you look," the nurse said. Not a compliment exactly. Just an observation.

"Had to be," I muttered.

She finished bandaging my shoulders and stepped back. "Rest here for at least an hour. If the dizziness doesn't pass, come back."

She left, her soft blue aura trailing behind her like smoke.

The moment we were alone, Raven pulled a chair over and sat down heavily. "What happened back there? You looked like you saw a ghost."

"I..." How did I even explain it? "I saw things. Colors around people. And shadows. Death shadows."

Raven went very still. "Death shadows?"

"Above people's heads. Gray clouds, pulsing. Getting darker." I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to block out the images still burned into my vision. "Caspian has one. So do at least half the students in that hall. Something's killing you all, and nobody can see it except me."

Silence. When I lowered my hands, Raven was staring at me with an expression I couldn't read.

"You have Truthsight," he said quietly.

"I have what?"

"Truthsight. It's rare. Really rare." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "My mother told me stories about it when I was a kid. People who could see truth in all its forms—lies, death, curses, intentions. It manifests during extreme stress."

Extreme stress. Like being chained up and sold. Like being thrown into combat training with vampires. Like discovering your entire life was a lie built on a three-hundred-year-old debt.

"Great," I said bitterly. "So I get to watch everyone die in slow motion. What a gift."

"It's more than that." Raven's voice was urgent now. "If you can see what's killing us, maybe you can help stop it. Maybe that's why you're really here."

Before I could respond, the door opened. Caspian walked in, his gold eyes immediately finding me. The gray shadow above his head pulsed, darker than before.

My breath caught. "Your death omen. It's getting worse."

Caspian froze mid-step. "You can see it?"

"She has Truthsight," Raven said. He stood, putting himself slightly between me and Caspian. "She can see the curse. All of it."

Something flickered across Caspian's face—hope, maybe, or fear. He closed the distance between us in three long strides. "What exactly do you see?"

I sat up, ignoring the way the room tilted. "Gray shadows above people. Black rot spreading through the walls, the floors, everything. Tendrils connecting all of it like a web." I looked directly at him. "You're dying. You're all dying. And it's getting faster."

Caspian's jaw clenched. He turned away, running a hand through his perfectly styled black hair. For the first time since I'd met him, he looked... shaken.

"The Founder's Curse," he said quietly. "That's what you're seeing."

"You knew about it?" Raven's voice was sharp. Accusatory.

"Of course I knew." Caspian spun back around, and there was anger in his gold eyes now. "The council has known for decades. We just couldn't see it to track it. Couldn't figure out how to stop it."

"So you brought her here." Raven's hands curled into fists. "You bought her debt because you knew she might have Truthsight. You were using her from the beginning."

"Yes." Caspian didn't deny it. Didn't apologize. "Her grandmother had it. The records indicated the trait might pass down the bloodline. I took a calculated risk."

The words hit me like a physical blow. My chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. "You knew. When you bought me, you knew what I might be able to do."

"Yes," Caspian said again. He looked at me, and his expression was unreadable. "I bought you because you might be the only person who can save this academy. Save everyone in it."

"By dying, right?" The words came out sharp, defensive. "That's what the prophecy says. Willing sacrifice. You bought me to convince me to kill myself."

Caspian's face went carefully blank. He didn't confirm it. He didn't deny it either.

The silence stretched between us like broken glass.

"You're unbelievable," Raven spat. "She's a person, not a tool."

"She's the only hope we have," Caspian said coldly. "Sometimes individual lives matter less than—"

"Get out." My voice was quiet but it cut through their argument. "Both of you. Get out."

Raven turned to me, concerned. "Sera—"

"I said get out!" My voice cracked on the last word. I pressed my shaking hands against my thighs, nails digging in. "I need to think. I need to... just go. Please."

Raven hesitated, but then nodded. He shot Caspian one more furious look before leaving.

Caspian stayed. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, then closed it. His gold eyes held mine for a long moment.

"I didn't bring you here to die," he finally said. His voice was soft. Almost gentle. "I brought you here because you might be able to see what needs to be done. There's a difference."

"Is there?" I asked. My throat felt tight. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you bought yourself a convenient sacrifice."

Something painful crossed his face, there and gone so fast I almost missed it. "Think what you want of me. It doesn't change what's coming. The curse is accelerating. In ninety days, during the Blood Moon, it will consume everyone in this academy unless we find a way to break it."

"And the only way to break it is my death."

"That's one way." Caspian moved toward the door, then paused. "But maybe your Truthsight will show us another. We have time. Use it wisely."

He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

I sat there alone in the sterile white room, surrounded by auras I couldn't turn off and death omens I couldn't ignore. My shoulders throbbed where Elena's claws had torn through. My head pounded from the Truthsight showing me too much, too fast.

And above it all, one thought kept circling:

Caspian had known from the beginning. He'd bought me knowing I might have this power. He'd planned all of this.

Every gentle word. Every moment of seeming concern. It was all manipulation.

I pressed my palms against my eyes, but the tears came anyway, hot and angry and overwhelming. I'd been so stupid. So naive. Thinking he might actually care. Thinking any of this might be about me as a person instead of me as a solution to their problem.

A solution that required me to die.

A soft sound made me look up. The door hadn't opened. The room was empty.

But in the corner, near the window, the black rot was spreading. Pulsing. Growing darker with each second.

And from within it, a figure began to take shape.

Translucent. Flickering. A girl who looked about my age, with long dark hair and eyes that were hollow and desperate.

She reached toward me, mouth moving like she was screaming, but no sound came out.

Then, finally, a whisper that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere:

"He killed me. And you're next."