Weaver

I have endured this endless loop a hundred times, and now it seems I must face it once more as I see the bright light ahead of me again. It signals the end of this life, only for me to relive it all over again. When will this madness finally end?

Chapter 1

-1-

Redrey's POV

I gritted my teeth as a wave of agony rippled through my belly. Each contraction caused me to move into the fetal position. The affliction is getting stronger, seemingly lasting longer as the time between the cramping grows closer. My body tensed! Automatically, I try to close off the back of my throat. I gritted down on the sheet that was in my mouth. Still, the cry of agony slipped out despite my efforts to suppress it. The discomfort was relentless, an unbearable force tearing through me, leaving me breathless and trembling.

The moment I was brought to the dungeons, I feared that something would happen before I could leave this place. I tried every rise and fall of the moon to comfort my worried mind. I could sense that something was gravely amiss. The tightness in my chest chewed at me, always clawing at the edges of my mind.

Another contraction paused my thoughts. I desperately wanted to scream out for the guards, to plead with them to summon a doctor. If not for my own sake, but for the delicate life fighting to emerge from within me. "Don't bother Redrey! Their indifference is colder than the winter winds!" I spoke my thoughts out loud.

Closing my eyes, I rode the wave of labour pains, trying to listen to anything that would distract me from the hardship of childbirth; I had no choice but to endure alone.

The muffled sounds of the fortress beyond felt distant. Haunting even! The world had shrunk to this single moment, and the stakes were higher than I could ever imagine. In the stillness, I listened to the sound of my heartbeat. A rhythm that was faster than before. Yet, it allowed me to know I was still alive and going strong.

Lying on my side, I waited for the pain to return. I wondered how much time had passed. With each surge of pain, I found myself mentally counting the contractions. I realized that I had already endured twelve of these agonizing episodes. As the intensity increased with each episode. Disquieted, I wondered again if I should call for a doctor, if only to ensure the well-being of my baby. Yet, sadly, as swiftly as that thought emerged, I pushed it away. I understood the unspoken rules of this place. I had no choice but to swallow my concerns. This was my punishment for an accusation I had not committed. I was to give birth to a child alone, in a cell that was as uncomfortable as they could make it without endangering the unborn child.

Only on the date I was scheduled to give birth would a doctor come to check on the condition of the unborn child. Once the assessment was completed, the doctor would leave. The door would be closed, and I would have to endure this by myself. A guard would stand outside my cell door. Only when they hear the infant's cries will the door be opened. I would be taken straight to the five brothers. There, I would be released from my sentence and sent to wherever they wished me to go.

The light above my head emitted a constant, low hum. In my mind, the low hum had become a small voice of encouragement, letting me know that this was almost over and that I would be released from my confinement.

The lights were never turned off. They were deliberately designed to mess with my mind and distort my senses. In truth, they had worked to a degree! I was hearing voices that weren't there, losing my mind to the intense brightness. However, losing my sense of time, that was something I had not lost. Unlike other girls, my father had educated me. Something no one knew of.

The food was delivered twice a solar day, nourishment for the growing infant. I had kept count of all the meals I had been given. After receiving twenty-three meals, divide that by two; I have been in the cell for eleven solar days and a bit.

The solid metal door was always sealed and locked. Severing any connection, I might have had with the outside world. It had a narrow slot in the middle, covered by a hatch when not in use. This served as the sole way for my food trays to reach me. Twenty-three times, I thanked the person who gave me the food, regardless of whether I could see them. I would not hear a word, only the sound of a cart being pushed. Letting me know that the other prisoners would also be receiving their meals.

Placing a hand on my swollen belly, I reminded myself several times that this could only last for so long. Telling myself that women give birth every solar day... successfully. I'm just being paranoid about a natural occurrence.

Bracing myself, I could feel the tightening of my sides, seeking relief on the thin straw bed. Resting my head against the rough texture, I placed a trembling hand on my forehead. My temperature was rising. The cool floor no longer gives me comfort. The cramping gets stronger as I brace myself for yet another flood of pain that will crash through my abdomen, challenging my ability to remain quiet.

This time, the agony radiated up my back and to my shoulders. Clenching the wool blanket, I held my breath. I buried my face into its coarse, itchy fibres, muffling my groans. The tightness slowly eased away. My breaths came in short gasps. No matter how many times I tried to think positively. I feared for the safe arrival of my child, praying that strength would find me in this moment of what I considered my doom.

My thoughts drifted to the five brothers. I bitterly laughed at the irony of this. They promised to protect me.

Gifted to them as a sign of peace from my twin sister's husband. I had been dragged from the harem, which I was all too glad to leave. To this land where the warlords ruled with an iron fist. The five brothers took the peace offering, making me their gifted wife. Adding to the ranks already designed.

I did not once complain, as I completed all the tasks assigned to me. I was quiet, compliant, and obedient. For this, the brothers whispered words of safeguarding and a life that would bring me abundance.

A single tear rolled down my face as I lay my head on the bed. "And here I am! Framed for a crime I had not committed." I coldly whispered to myself. They believed their first wife without allowing me to say a word in my defence. She claimed I had stolen a pendant, the very first gift the eldest brother had given her. I tried to speak, yet the first wife's words were spoken louder, and I was overshadowed without a second thought.

I can still hear her shrieks and cries as she pointed her finger at me. They dragged me to the dungeons, disregarding my pleas for the safety of the unborn child.

I can not let things end this way. I have to try to save the life of this wee one. With weak arms, I push myself up to a sitting position. I can now feel warm liquid between my legs. Lifting the hem of my tattered dress that was once teal in colour, I placed my hand between my legs. Covered with a sticky, warm liquid, I brought my hand to my face. I could hear my heart picking up. Shifting my body to my feet, I could see the blood oozing down my leg and dripping onto the floor.

I glanced over at the door, willing for no tears to fall. Reacting would only be received with unanswered silence. Slowly walking over to the door. Pounding on it, “The baby is coming!” I bellowed with fear clear in my tone. "Please, someone help me!" Looking back at the trail of blood from the bed to the door. Where I stood, blood still oozed from the womb, dripping onto the floor.

I leaned my head on the door, praying they would send a doctor. The whole time I had been locked up here, I did not cry. I refused to beg. Even though I had done nothing, I took the punishment with my head held high.

I listened as a set of feet pounded the floor, heading toward my door. I had to think positively. 'They wouldn't endanger an unborn child! This is their blood that grows inside of me!'

I heard the heavy footsteps getting closer. I backed away so the guard could see me. I waited silently with a pleading expression on my face. A grizzly man glared at me with yellow eyes; his breath smelled as if he had just finished licking his arse. “Your date of giving birth isn’t scheduled for tosolar day!” He slammed the hatch shut.

I shouldn't have been shocked, yet I was. I leaned my back on the door, and psychotically, I began to laugh as if the birth of a child was solely granted for one solar day after generations of females giving birth to sons and daughters. Early arrivals and stubborn little ones who don't want to leave the warmth of their mother's womb. How can one be denied proper care for only one date?

Biting the inside of my mouth, I gritted down as the pain was worse than the others before. I braced myself, knowing it would only last for so long. Cautiously, I plotted out my next move. I knew that I would receive no aid. Only when the cries of a child are heard would they believe me. That is when I will be released from this prison and allowed to rejoin the other eleven wives.

I know I will be made to kneel on my knees and beg their first wife for redemption. Swearing that I have learned my lesson and will never repeat my actions. If I am lucky, the first wife will not take my baby from me as compensation.

That thought alone was more than enough to allow the tears to roll down my face. Leaving a string of wetness, proof of the emotional turmoil I have to bear.

Placing my hand on the side of my rounded belly, I could feel my baby kick; it was weaker than it had been yestersolar day. He or she was trying to get out but was stuck and unable to emerge into this world properly. Slowly, one foot in front of the other, I wobbled over to the straw bedding. An unsettling thought occurred to me. The alarming thought that had been nagging me came to the forefront of my mind. One hand on each side of my belly. I felt for my baby's position.

In the back of my mind, reality was the only thing that remained. I knew then we were not going to make it out of this cell alive. I had limited knowledge of birthing. But I knew one thing, the baby's head was to be the first to come out of the birth canal. My baby was lying sideways. I could tell by the position of the head and the little kick. Without proper medical care, my baby would be stuck in me.

Any hope I had was gone. I could care less now, with the straws poking into my skin. I lay down. I placed both my hands on my belly. With tears in my eyes, I whispered the song my father once sang to me as a child.

I had come to the decision, and with each contraction, I would not hold back the shrieks of agony. I already know the guards will ignore every sound that comes from the cell. Or maybe they will get annoyed enough and barge in through the door, seeing the blood on the floor. My baby might have a chance at life. Or maybe the guards will only come through the doors when the screaming stops. With my lifeless body lying on the floor, a pool of blood surrounding me.

“One hundred times!” The back of my throat bobbed as I sarcastically laughed. I hissed as the beginning of a contraction started. "This will mark one hundred times!"

There was pounding on the door as a guard yelled at me to shut up. I no longer cared about being obedient. I continued to laugh at the mockery of everything that was happening around me.

I stopped laughing as I leaned my head further back into the bedding. Gritting my teeth, I hissed loudly as the pain radiated throughout my whole body. I can feel the warmth of my lifeline pooling underneath my hips. Closing my eyes, I beg and plead in my mind for all of this to end. No more pain! No more reliving this nightmare! I pleaded with the Creator to end my misery once and for all. Loosening up the hold in the back of my throat, I screamed a blood-curdling sound that would make anyone pale in complexion.

Avoidance was the response to my screams of suffering.

Time slips by, as it always does.

I can no longer feel the movement of my baby. The beating of my heart slows down. I have no fear or pain! Only emptiness is there. The last bit of air slips past my lips, signalling my death.

My spirit stood there, gazing at the empty shell of what had been. Recalling all of my one hundred deaths. Each of them was different from the one before, but one thing remained, I would wake up in my parents' home as a child.

I have yet to understand it! Why do I relive this life over and over? I have tried desperately to break the wheel. Thus far, I am the only one who remembers everything. The main events that occur repeatedly. The cruelty of my twin sister and the one she marries. I can never escape it!

My mind drifts to the five brothers. I want to hate them, desperately I do! But I place all the blame on myself. What a fool I was! I allowed them to make me feel safe, secure, and wanted, believing that this would break the fate that had been given to me. It's a curse to die and repeat everything over again.

What a cruel mistress fate is!

I could not resist it. I giggled, not a kind of humour as if a joke had been spoken. But out of a mark of bitterness! After hours of screaming until, my throat was raw. With no life in this cell. This is when the guard opened the hatch and bellowed that my meal was here.

The same guard who told me my birthing date was not scheduled for tosolar day. With no response from me, I listened to the jingling of the keys as the solid door was unlocked. Muttering words that I could not understand. I watched the guard holding the tray of food take one step in. As quickly as he took a step in, he left, leaving the door wide open.

In the blink of an eye, I find myself before the five brothers. They're joking around, chattering with each other. It was clear that they had not yet received the news.

Turning my head to the ruckus. The thundering of feet bounced off the stone walls as three warriors came rushing into the area. Quickly, they bowed their heads, showing their respect. With their heads lowered, they informed the five brothers of the situation the guard had told them. "Your gifted wife has gone into labour."

The eldest of the brothers angrily stood to his feet. Declaring that it was too early for me to give birth to their child. "The doctor had explicitly stated that the date was to come in 7 moons." He muttered, "Just another lie of hers ... leave her where she is!"

It was clear he still had resentment towards me; that was a bitter drink I could swallow; I was used to that type of pain.

The warrior stuttered as he explained what the guard had told him. "The Gifted Wife had been screaming for some time." He kept his head lowered as he continued to speak. "Knowing that the scheduled date was not near. The guards had left her believing she was lying."

I snorted out a bitter laugh as I placed a hand over my mouth. The warrior had not gotten to the part where, in a cell located in their dungeon, lay the body of the woman they swore to protect. And with her, the body of an infant that could not reach this world.

The eldest brother, still enraged over my supposed disobedience, scoffed, "If she has gone into labour, where is she?" He wanted to know why they hadn't brought me here with the child in my arms.

"My lords, after hours of the Gitfed Wife's screams ... everything had stopped!" I watched as the warrior nervously found the words to break the news to the five brothers. Letting them know that there would be no extension to their bloodline and that their Gifted Wife would not meet their presence again.

I would never know the reactions to the five brothers, nor would I find out if the news of my passing would invoke an emotion. The light was small at first, and the words were muffled in the distance; all I could see was a blinding light. I held my breath, praying that fate would grant me mercy and I would no longer have to repeat this over again.

Chapter 2

-2-

Redley’s POV

The pains of the labour lingered in my body. Placing my hand on my belly. It was no longer swollen with what was to be life.

I turn my head slowly to the side, to make sure I was not longer in the cell. A smile of relief grew on my face as I gazed out the window as the silvery glow of the Moon could be seen in the sky. A softly red glow came into my room. I had to cover my mouth with my hand. Willing myself not to shed one tear. I was awakened and once again in my childhood home. Sniffing, I caught the scent, the familiar aroma of my blanket wrappings around my slender body. I brought it tightly to my chin, taking a moment for me. To collect my thoughts.

My blanket brought both comfort and unease. I would get to see my parents again. Yet, with the other versions of events, this would only last for so long before Kithree's choice of a husband imprisons my parents and me. Many times, Kithree was behind this event, pushing her husband to do what she wished without a second thought.

I ran my hands over my face, feeling the smoothness of my youthful skin that had not yet been touched by stress or tears. 'I’m back in the body of my twelve-year-old self.' A pitiful groan grumbled from the back of my throat.

I fill my lungs with the musky air. The familiar aroma of my mother's cooking wafts through the tiny cracks of my bedroom door. Cooking the best meals was a gift my mother had passed down to me. Telling me the key to a happy husband was through his belly. Kithree would complain each time our mother tried to get her involved, letting everyone know she was going to marry a wealthy man. Allowing her to have servants to do all the household tasks. She relied on her beauty and charm to get what she wanted. In truth, this worked for her every single life cycle I had gone through.

In the kitchen, just a few steps away from my room. I can hear my mother’s voice. It was soft and filled with affection. I did not need to be at the table to listen to what was spoken. Mother's words were being repeated again for the one hundred and one time. She was cooing over my sister’s latest milestone. It was a bittersweet moment for our mother. She dreamed of the solar day when she would be able to watch her little girls trade in the pink uniform gown, which symbolized the innocence of childhood, for a striking white silk dress that now represents her readiness to embark on the journey of adulthood and the search for a husband.

Only I was aware of the truth that lay hidden behind my twin sister's passageway. Our mother had believed that Kithree’s first show of blood marked the onset of her journey into motherhood.

In reality, it was much more sinister than that. It was my sister's engagement in the act of intimacy that was typically reserved for couples who had pledged their loyalty to one another.

'I bet it was the butcher's son!' I knew three males were chasing her continuously. He had been one of them.

I held onto this secret! I was aware of my sister and her friend's movement. Their true capabilities for how cunning, manipulative, and the darkness that lurked beneath their seemingly innocent demeanours. This filled me with dread each time I would be left alone in their presence.

Flashes of the time loop fluttered my mind. Blinking several times to make sure I was in my childhood home. I reminded myself where I was.

I watched them navigate their social world with a grace that masked the chaos they could unleash. My sister is the ringleader of the group. Yet, even with my silence, I bore the cost of their actions. Each solar day felt like a tightrope walk. Wondering where and when they would strike next.

It was the 101st time I found myself trapped in this bitter cycle. A routine that had become all too familiar. For a brief moment, I wondered if it was even worth getting out of bed. Knowing all too well what awaited for me. More pain! More suffering! And then there was my twin ... Kithree!

Instead of waiting for the gentle knock on the door that would signal the arrival of our first meal, I dragged myself out of bed, each movement sombre. Taking a deep breath, I opened it, bracing myself for the solar day that lay ahead. In all my glory of dishevelled hair and in my nightwear, I stood to greet the world that would not remember what had happened. Only I knew the cold, bitter truth.

Kithree sat at the table, a playful smirk dancing on her lips as she aimed a slice of toast toward her mouth. Meanwhile, our mother stood a few steps away, her back turned toward us as she carefully poured water into clear glasses.

I shifted my focus back to Kithree, whose expression had now shifted dramatically. The smirk evaporated, replaced by a dark glare. If I were a mind reader, her thoughts were anything but good, as her eyes were sparkling with a storm that hinted at unspoken promises of discomfort.

I had never truly noticed this before. A detail that now seemed more evident than before. As I took an acquired step out of my room. The floorboards squeaked softly under my weight. Without having to turn her head, our mother knew of my presence. The moment she turned, her expression shifted from warmth to concern when she spotted me.

The warmth of her love circled me instantly. "Oh dear!" Our mother's voice reached my ears.

Dragging my feet, I made my way to the table. I pulled out a chair with a soft creak, the sound barely breaking the quiet. My eyes remained fixed on our mother as she moved her feet. As she approached the table, she placed two of the glasses down.

Without missing a beat, she reached out and gently pressed the back of her hand against my forehead, her brow creased with worry. “You don’t look well,” she murmured under her breath. The softness of her touch was comforting.

For a split second, I allow myself to enjoy this tenderness before I remind myself what is to come. I can not and will not allow myself to feel anything. I have to push all types of emotions to the side. Even the touch of a mother's love could poison my hardened exterior.

I produced a low, throaty sound that served as my only acknowledgment of her words. I could feel Kithree's shift in energy. She hated the fact that I was getting attention. The air between us thickened. Kithree 's expression changed to rage. Abruptly, she set her food down harshly, the clatter echoing in the room for a few seconds.

'Here comes the theatrics!' The little voice in my head sprang to life.

I had never realized until that moment just how irritating her voice could be. Each word that escaped her lips seemed to strike a nerve, with rage deep within my soul igniting. I clenched my hands tightly under the table, battling to restrain myself from roaring to life.

Kithree was spouting the importance of our etiquette classes. I clenched my jaw, knowing she had not once cared for the lessons that were taught to us. The only one who listened to their wisdom was me.

After all of these times, I had to endure this endless loop, and I found the classes to be pointless now, especially if I am destined to be my twin sisters' toy to humiliate and destroy.

I felt trapped, both by her endless chatter and by her insistence that I accompany her to the classes. I need to escape the suffocating atmosphere. I was not willing to be her pet in her vindictive games.

Inside my mind, I let out a mocking snort, the sound not even remotely humorous.

The ladies of the community referred to our ‘classes’ as life-changing. But in my reality, these sessions felt more like a training program designed to mould us into the ideal wives. Our instructors never missed an opportunity to reinforce the notion of our roles within this tightly-knit community. They drilled us on everything from household management to social etiquette, insisting that our ultimate purpose was to serve and support the families we would marry into.

I wrapped my fingers around the cool glass. Rising slowly from the chair, I could barely handle the flood of words spilling from my twin sister's mouth. Each phrase spoken only added to the barrier I was building around me. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to breathe. Suffering under my twin's influences. By refusing to engage in any activity my sister had plotted in her mind, I left with what dignity I had left.

I felt only boredom at the thought of the instructors' celebration for Kithree, whom they would believed had crossed the border from a child to a young lady. The ceremony and event held no appeal for me. The notion of being the obedient child, expected to take part in these joyous merriments, seemed insignificant and far removed from my reality.

In the last repetition of my life, when I met my profound ending. Everything that had once defined me as a person had slipped away into the void. I may have walked the soil with a semblance of a conscience. Participating in exchanges, chatter, and daily routines, but within me is an emptiness. An echoing void where hopes, dreams and ambitions once thrived is now an unobstructed hole.

In my mind lingered the darkness of each word and action that Kithree had ever sent my way. Each syllable from her lips felt like a dagger, deepening the despair in my back. Pushing it further into the darkness of my existence. Spitting into my face as each action leaves an invisible scar that I can never erase.

As I gently shut the door to my room, I leaned against it for a moment. Our mother’s voice mingled with Kithree. I could visualize the scene unfolding in my mind. Kithree, with her bright green eyes and convincing demeanour, worked her charm as she efficiently convinced our mother that I was merely faking my symptoms and needed to join the class. This only added an additional thorn to my side.

'It is clear that I look unwell, and still, Mother falls for everything Kithree says! Unbelievable!' The voice in my head was past aggravated. 'We have to be smarter this time!'

I clenched my hand into a fist. It was a familiar routine, one that had played out countless times. 'We have to be smarter this time!' The voice in my head repeated louder.

I had voiced my opinions on several occasions. I remembered how shocked I was when Kithree always managed to sway our mother’s opinion. I could have a broken arm, the bone sticking out, and somehow, Kithree would be able to convince our mother that nothing had happened. I swear by this!

The manipulation from Kithree had always left me brokenhearted and trapped in a cycle that I had no control over. This not only worked on our parents but also on the community as a whole.

'It is as if Kithree can do no wrong even if she does it in front of their faces.' The voice in my head sounded defeated.

I cannot quite grasp the secret behind her capabilities! All I know is that with a flutter of her eyes, she captivates those around her. Inspiring everyone to follow her lead without hesitation. Willing to do her bidding regardless of how ridiculous the demand may be. If anyone were to try to say otherwise, that person would find themselves in an unfavourable situation.

I stepped away from the door, and I listened keenly to the dialogue unfolding inside. I felt a chill as I heard our mother’s calm and agreeable voice. She effortlessly echoed Kithree's ideas as if the words were an extension of her own thoughts.

'And it begins!' A bitter voice that mirrored mine had spoken.

In the other versions of my life, I was submissive, never fighting back. Times I tried to voice my thoughts, my attempts often led to unfavourable situations that only deepened my resentment. This time, however, things will be different. I refuse to remain compliant any longer.

Everything I had learned from my recurring cycle has been my learning tool through experiences. This time, I will find out why this continues to happen to me. True, this could ruin my prospects of a good match. Then again, it wasn't like I received a good game in the alternative lives. I only felt shame and helplessness. This time, this version of Redrey will be the person no one has ever seen.

Hell has no refuge for those with bleeding hearts!

I should have realized this truth the very first time I found myself caught in this relentless cycle of misery. Perhaps it’s true that I'm a slow learner, even naive, only wanting to see the good of the world I live in.

Now, I've endured enough heartache to understand that compassion is my only weakness. Now, I’m ready to match my sister with her circle of friends ruthlessly, stepping into a game where the stakes are high and the rules favour the fearless.

I lay in bed, staring at the plain wall with shadows of the past. The muffled sound of my mother’s voice drifted through the house, announcing her departure for work. Moments later, Kithree pushed open my bedroom door with a crooked smile on her face. Her bright green eyes sparkled with malicious intent as she announced it was time for me to get up and ready for our solar day.

I shot her a piercing glare, the intensity of my expression causing her to hesitate and step back momentarily. This side of me clearly took Kithree aback. A side she had never predicted. Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. As fast as it happened, she quickly composed herself. With determination, she glided toward the bed. Her fingers gripped my wrist as she attempted to pull me up. Her touch was as cold as ice. Snarling at me, she repeated her words as if she believed this would get me to follow whatever plan she had whirling around in her little mind.

I rose to my feet with an icy detachment. My head tilted gradually from one side to the other. I assessed my options as I studied the person who was to be my twin. My lips remained tightly sealed, concealing my thoughts. Though my body bore the build of a child, my mind was that of a twenty-two-year-old. Seasoned by the wisdom and weariness of having lived this cycle one hundred times.

My teeth were clenched together, "I am not going!" I hissed as if blowing a winter wind from the top of the mountain peaks.

I spoke each word deliberately. There was an expression of emptiness in my gaze. I fixed my cold glare on my twin. I could see Kithree was thinking about what to do to make me bend to her will. Yet still, my expression remained unreadable while her own eyes flickered with confusion and frustration.

She began to smile while in my mind, I had to fight the urge to punch her in the gut. Sending her to the floor, groaning from my attack. Hate wasn't a strong enough word to express how I felt toward my twin, the one who mirrored my image.

I didn’t give her a chance to speak as I charged at her, causing her to retreat impulsively. I could hear the sharp hiss escape my lips as I repeated my direction. With a firm grip, I took hold of the top of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair. I pulled her forward, forcing her out of my room and slamming the door in her face.

"You will regret this, Redrey!" Kithree shouted from the other side of the door.

I set my gaze on the door, biting my lower lip. I was breathing laboriously through my nose. Tension pulsated through my veins as I waited for Kithree's next move. The only sound breaking the stillness was the soft, retreating footsteps fading down the hallway. I strained to listen to her mutter in a low voice, outlining her plan, unaware that I was listening carefully. The promises of what was to come, this quarrel was far from over.

Chapter 3

-3-

Kiriv’s POV

I sat there, the silence enveloping the location. My brothers: Boldic, Lorduc, Aggil, and Ethurnail … sat in a circle with me. Food was set on the table with a goblet of ale for each of us. Nothing had been touched. Our eyes fixed on the gaping abyss we had formed in our minds. I had no idea if my brothers felt the same. A sense that something was amiss, but what could it be? I could not figure this out.

At the beginning of the moon's rise, my routine had not changed, yet the thought persisted. I found myself strolling around our home, carefully scrutinizing every inch, checking for any signs of tampering. The only thing I saw was dirt, which I was quick to have the staff clean. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious had been taken from us without a trace of where it had gone.

After a long solar day spent in contemplation, I finally gathered my thoughts, wanting to approach my brothers and see their perspective on the issue that weighed on my shoulders. I was uncertain, believing that I might have finally lost my mind. I briefly expressed my beliefs, and with each word I spoke, their expressions reflected my thoughts. Their eyes were filled with understanding as they struggled all solar day trying to figure things out on their own. Mirrored silent acknowledgment that we all shared the burning needs.

Removing the silver mask from his face, Ethurnail leaned forward, his eyes darkening as he recalled the pieces of what he once believed to be a dream. “I had the oddest vision!” He began, setting the mask down gently on the floor beside his stool. “In this fantasy, there was a girl. Her hair flowed like liquid silver, down to her waist. Her eyes were a dark shade of emerald. Her skin was the colouring of freshly fallen snow. Smooth to the touch of these harsh and rough hands. Instantly, I was spellbound by her being."

The room was strained as the conversation unfolded. Unspoken truths were written on our faces like a blow to the face. Each of us began to recount our own dreams, strikingly similar yet not! The woman at the center of our haunting memories fits the same description. Her vibrant eyes, the way she would lower her head as she covered her mouth with laughter.

'She was absolutely stunning!' The voice in my head bounced around as I glared at the liquid in my goblet.

Vividly, I could picture the woman in my mind. I licked my lips as I recalled how good she tasted. Instantly, that single thought had stirred my manhood to life. "What else do you remember?" I asked my brothers, trying hard to think of anything else but the growing pressure in my lower limbs.

As we shared our stories, it became clear that we were united not just by our visions but by the chilling realization that each scenario had been intricately woven with events leading up to that moment, when we were told of her demise. Although the specifics varied, the underlying theme was undisputed. A wrongful conviction that had erased Redrey's life, along with the life that grew in her belly.

We sat there toying with the words spoken. I tried to remind myself that this was just a dream, a realistic one, but nothing more. The more we stewed on it, the more frustrating things felt. I rapped my finger off the table as I leaned forward. A voice mimicking mine bellowed so loud that it bounced around my skull, 'The girl is real!' My mind would not give up the notion.

Then it hit me like a three-hundred-million volts of energy, knocking me down. The ending to the woman of my dreams. She didn't grow old as she should have. It did not sit well with me how this woman had met her demise. The wheels of injustice had unfavourable effects on her. Leaving a pit of guilt inside of me. We mourned over the loss that was in our minds. The cruel irony of fate we felt was all too real in our hearts.

I could not know what my brothers were thinking; I could only speak for myself. The woman in our dreams was as real as the steel of my blade.

"We need to find her!" I declared out loud to my brothers. I spoke her name as if I would never see her again: “Redrey!” I tightened my hands into fists as the guilt of my actions washed over me, mocking me for how blind I was to the truth.

We all nodded in unison! Each of us was thinking of the same thing! Redrey, the one who had captured our hearts. With her soft-spoken words. With a heart so open, she viewed the world through a lens of naivety. Redrey wore her emotions on her sleeve. In the wrong hands, the little thing could easily be ripped apart.

For us, an absolute warmth in her presence greeted us each time we called on her. Redrey was not only easy to hold in moments of silence, but her honesty was refreshing. At moments, we shared more than just thoughts; we shared a profoundly deep connection.

'How did things go so wrong?' I knew the answer. We all did. The real question is, how could we have allowed it to happen? We are the superior species! Surpassing others in strength, skill and leadership. Yet here we sit, bellyaching over a woman.

'Not just a woman!' My thoughts remind me. 'Thee woman! The one who fits perfectly in our hands!'

I could not help myself. There was a connection between Ridley and us. Our body's reaction to the simple thought of her told us it was so.

Aggie found himself at the center of the conversation. The details of his past rendition of what had been lost. And how she has been gifted to us as a wife.

In our world, it was common to hand over sons and daughters as a form of settlement. They would be sent to us to settle a debt that could not be paid off. This happens more often than not; families can pay their dues to the warlord, and they do the only thing they can to save the family.

My intrusive thoughts made a point. 'They may not live a life of freedom as the settlement may wish, but they have a full belly at the end of the solar day along with clothing to cover their flesh. If they do well they can find freedom after the sum of money has been paid off.'

Then, there is the maintenance of fragile alliances.

'As if anyone could contend to our strength!' I leaned back as I glared at my siblings. Knowing we had sat in power for over a millennia now.

Our world is unkind and does not cater to the weak. Only if one with such a status can gain the attention of someone of a high ranking could they be spared the hardship of their existence. Many sons and daughters had been handed over to us. A gesture pointed to appease us or, in other circumstances, a means to secure the leader position for the future.

Such gifts were not merely symbolic. It was a calculated move to ward off threats and retain power, ensuring that the leader could maintain his influence without fear of our attack. Using their offspring as leverage, as our laws allow it.

Redrey was one of those sacrifices, though there was more malicious intent behind her donation to our kingdom. Something we all had agreed on!

Lorduc stretched his legs. "She came to us broken." He commented as he told what he had seen. Adding to the conversation. "Redrey still found the means to smile. Willingly we had placed her as part of our ranking wives. Finding pleasure in her rarity. A trophy that would mix well with what we already owned." He pondered with the thoughts of his mind. "What sector did the woman say she came from?"

One at a time, my brothers snorted, making a disgruntled noise that erupted from the back of their throats. "Doesn't anyone remember?" I asked with a harsh tone in my voice. My temper was rising, mainly aimed at myself, as we tried to figure things out.

It was a simple question, yet one that left me stumped. I shot a disappointed glare at Boldic. His lips were pressed tightly together, betraying no thoughts. Casting my gaze over my brothers, I felt a wave of confusion wash over me as I pondered the origins of Redrey.

"How hard could it be to locate one female? It isn't as if there are copies of women with the same description roaming around our domain." I had made a point. Silver hair is rare, typically reserved for those of the weaver bloodline. Although it has been known to appear in unexpected places.

Yet here we sat, dumbfounded, as neither of us could pinpoint a clear answer. We exchanged puzzled glances, scratching our heads. We collectively agreed that Redrey's history was as much a mystery as our situation.

We sat there, drinking our ale, and pondered the situation further. From the brim of his goblet, Boldic unsealed his lips. He pointed out everything we had spoken of, bringing facts to bear on our emotional judgments.

“Dream weaver!” Boldric said before he filled his mouth with the last remnants of the liquid that was in the chalice. "That is who is messing with our minds."

I glared at my brothers as they mimicked my actions. No words needed to be spoken. This would answer many questions. A dream weaver does have the ability to allow time to relapse, though that would be someone who comes from the first sector, where their kind pools together. Someone who would be very powerful. Our minds had thought of a handful of names that could easily fill the slot of deceit and skills to be cunning. Yet neither of the names spoken had crossed our paths, and there is no ill will between our families.

'So who would the foolish dream weaver be?' I coldly stared at my siblings one by one. Wondering which one of us was the target. Or had the dream weaver intended for each of us to be cast under his or her spell?

Demons possess a keen superiority that makes them challenging to mislead. Even the lowest-ranking spawn among us has a degree of resistance to their castings. However, the dream weaver's audacity in targeting a warlord like me is a grave mistake on the dream weaver's part.

"I will not stand for this trickery!" Ethurnail slammed his fist on the table, causing the food and drinks to spill over.

Servents jumped at the sudden outburst from my brother. I did not blame the servants for their desire to run and hide. It is only natural when a warlord is resentful. No one wants to be in the path of a charging demon.

Warlords, along with our brethren, are not inclined to tolerate such trifles lightly. When provoked, we unleash our wrath with overwhelming force, a response that can endanger not only our target and their family but also the entire sector from which they hail. The consequences of crossing a demon of our stature can ripple through realms, leaving a trail of devastation in our wake. For this reason alone, weavers, demons, and wanderers have been known to target only lower beings. Making sure they stay out of our sight.

For a fleeting second, the question flickered in our minds, "Is Redrey a dream weaver?"

I promptly dismissed the idea. An authentic dream weaver, I reasoned, would have spun a richly favourable outcome; Redrey had died in our dungeons with an unborn child in her womb. A dream weaver would envelop themselves in luxury and ease. They would be unfamiliar with hardship and untouched by struggle. Redrey had her natural beauty, but she was not gifted with gold and gems. There was no elaborate silk cloth covering her delicate skin. The notion of Redrey weaving dreams only to be marred by adversity seemed impossible. Ther was one other key component … we can smell the power of a weaver, something our Redrey was not!

As we continued to mull over the situation, tension built in my head. Each frustrating detail we recalled added fuel to the fire of our blood. Our blood gradually reached a boiling point, and we felt jaded about the situation unfolding before us. The unsettling notion of a dream weaver labouring in our minds left us feeling scorned. The very idea that the dream weaver could manipulate our thoughts and emotions without being noticed astonished us.

'Play with the lower being, those that matter not!' I thought to myself bitterly. 'The moment you involve myself and brothers, you better have a secured hiding spot.' I snorted out a large gust of smoke.

Ethurnail stood to his feet, saying that before we made our move, we needed to find Redrey and bring her back to where she belonged. We agreed that once Redrey was back in our grasp, we would ensure that she would never be able to leave us again. She belonged to us, whether she realized it or not. We would have her back.

After that, we were going to hunt down the dream weaver. Anyone who stood in the way of the dream weaver would soon find out the price they would pay for interfering with our target.