XXVIII

S tella was stalling.

After the meeting with the Vranas' concluded, she'd spent the rest of the dwindling night trying to covertly secure a small bottle of rhodiola. Apparently, they didn't come in small sizes, so she was forced to purchase her normal order. Now she sat on her sagging loveseat staring at the bottle atop her newly purchased coffee table.

"This is a bad idea," she acknowledged aloud.

Her arms curled tight around her middle as she leaned forward. The rhythm of her jiggling foot made both the coffee table and bottle shake. Unable to stand the apprehension soaking her veins, she shot to her feet and wound her way around the loveseat.

"This is a stupid idea, but…" She gripped the back of the couch, her bottom lip victim to anxious nibbling. Stella's eyes never left the rhodiola. " But this isn't the first time I've thought you might be the reason behind my nightmares and hallucinations," she said. " And if my nightmares and hallucinations are real,"—a flash memory of the terrifying hellhound's claws sinking into her stomach infiltrated her thoughts. Stella's fingernails dug into the cushion—"then the rhodiola is the key to my not-nightmares. My premonitions."

A shaky breath escaped her as she released the back of the loveseat and slid back a step.

"Maybe," she whispered to herself. "Or I'm completely wrong and finding the thinnest excuse that ever existed to have one last drink of rhodiola… even though it will also mean disobeying Jakob."

Both hands dove into her hair, grabbing fistfuls by the root and tugging. The sensation drew away some of the manic energy riffling her bloodstream. Stella let them fall back to her side once she caught sight of herself in the mirror above the mantel. There was a gleam to her eyes that she'd never quite seen before. An expression she rarely wore of a surety that made her stand taller.

"You are not crazy," she told her reflection in a low voice. "The hounds were real. The Otherworld was real. You're on to something." Anticipation roiled in her gut. "The rhodiola is part of this somehow. If I have one of my nightmares, that will prove it, and I'll tell Valdora and River. If I don't, then I can move on to find the real trigger."

She turned her gaze away from her reflection before she could talk herself out of it and moved with purpose to her kitchenette to fish out two shot glasses. One she left on the coffee table next to the rhodiola, and the other she took to the bathroom.

She needed a sleeping aid. Between her earlier nap and the rush of adrenalin fueling her, she'd never dream without it.

Stella rummaged through the contents of her medical basket in a crouch, ignoring the bottles that clinked tersely together in her search.

Greens for cuts.

Reds for burns.

Blues for sleep.

Stella let out a triumphant cry when she found not one, but two small blue bottles. Both were near their end, but that was fine by her. The less sleeping tonic she took, the less rhodiola she would take.

The taller and slenderer of the two was labeled Bright Moon. The other Vial of Night. Stella hesitated. She was forgetting something. One of the tonics was… was …

A frown stormed across her features. She couldn't remember, but that wasn't going to stop her. No , she thought, this is the point of no return.

With deft fingers, she uncorked each bottle and emptied its contents into the shot glass. The mercurial syrup that poured out of Bright Moon sank to the bottom of the shot glass, leaving the mostly translucent liquid from Vial of Night to level out the top half. Stella carefully set her concoction on the sink and put away her basket.

Valdora listed three methods to help with lucid dreaming: journaling, reality checks, and intention setting. They felt too broad and vague, but Stella complied as best as she could. From her nightstand drawer, she took out a notepad and pencil and wrote a quick list of what she remembered from her previous nightmares.

Hounds

Barren lands with no color

Stella quickly crossed out the words she'd written. She already knew the hounds and stagnant land were real, and she didn't want to return to the Otherworld even in a dream state.

Which left her other nightmare. The one that she couldn't quite remember, except for the feeling of dread that surrounded them.

Long, long hallway

High ceilings

Strange statues?

A lump lodged in Stella's throat. It was a poor list. If I could just remember one stark detail ... She chewed at her bottom lip as she stared at the last detail she wrote. What made the statues so strange? Stella wracked her brain. Was it the positioning of the statue that was odd? Was the material used out of the ordinary? Was it missing—

Stella gasped. The statues didn't have hearts. A big breath rushed out of her at the revelation, as well as a trail of goosebumps as she corrected her list.

Heartless statues.

"Journaling, check. Reality check?"

Stella paused. She didn't have the first clue how to proceed. Sighing, she set aside the notepad and did the first thing she could think of. She pinched herself.

"Real," she announced with the sting of her fingers. Next, she closed her eyes and smoothed her hands over the quilt beneath her. The fabric was worn from restless nights and grasping hands. She slid her right hand behind her until she found the familiar rip in the seam.

"Real."

She breathed in through her nose, cataloging her favorite floral scent, lilac, which came courtesy of her oil diffuser.

"Real."

There was a sense of calm in her room. A coziness and kind of warmth—

Stella's eyes flew open. Warmth . Another wave of goosebumps raised her skin. It wasn't just the rhodiola that triggered the sight within her. Temperature played a crucial role too. Stella stood, her hand lifting to her mouth as the puzzle piece fell into place.

In the Otherworld, Stella hallucinated the first hellhound and felt a chill, but her second sighting? When it attacked and left its mark upon her? There'd been no cold warning. Real.

The locker room attack when Raphael saved her? A chill had left her shaken to the bone before the hellhound emerged. Not real.

The demons with the shadows oozing off them the night of the Lunar Court party, and their talk of Raphael's plan to kill her? Real.

Her meltdown in the hallway as Raphael chased her? She thought she'd run into a freezer as she turned that corner and saw the hellhound. Not real.

Stella was floored. This was… this was huge.

Her hand dropped down to her side as she licked her lips. "Real and not real." The words came out with confidence that would not, and could not, be shaken. Stella knew she was right. She felt it in her bones. This knowledge changed things—changed everything—and she sure as hell was going to bring it into her dreams.

Reality check, check.

She strode back into the bathroom and faced herself in the mirror. "Real is warmth," she told herself firmly. "Real is warmth ," she repeated more earnestly, letting the truth solidify in her veins as she rested a hand against her sternum. "When you go into this dream, you'll explore the hall with heatless statues unbothered by demons and know what is real and what is not."

Intention, check.

Stella downed the shot, her eyes watering the moment it slid down her throat.

"That is very minty," she wheezed to herself. Still holding a cringe, she set the shot glass down and waited for the punch of peppermint to abate. "And very potent," she added as the blood from her head shot down to her legs. The accompanying wave of dizziness left her blinking and holding onto the sink like a lifeline.

It took several seconds before Stella felt she could move without another dizzy spell hitting her, but her assumption quickly proved wrong. She only made it to the bathroom doorway before another head rush left her breathless. Stella leaned heavily against the doorframe.

"Shit."

She knew exactly what she'd forgotten about the tonics now. Both were extremely strong doses; hence their small size, and she took not one, but two. Double shit .

Stella breathed forcefully in through her nose and out her mouth, but the influx of oxygen did little other than leave her more breathless. She pushed herself off the doorframe and staggered in the direction of the rhodiola left in the other room. Her knees buckled and gave out before making it to the end of her bed.

The abandoned grand hall before Stella was startlingly familiar. Her regard moved from the beamed ceiling to the marbled floor slowly, as an inkling of importance tickled the back of her mind. She stepped forward and the spacious hall somehow gained more in appearance. Statues now lined the walls spaced evenly apart. Their presence turned the tickling sensation into a scratch.

Stella walked to the nearest statue. A man posed mid-crumple; face bared to the heavens in agony with hands clawing at the cavity where his heart should have been. Her heart skipped a beat as she inspected the hollowed-out orifice, decorated with jagged and blunt crystals of ruby and garnet.

"Impossible," Stella whispered as she backed up. Yet the word didn't seem right. Not here.

Yet she couldn't put her fingers on why .

As she continued to back away, voices rose in the distance. Stella's eyes widened as she glanced around. The voices were far and near. They seemed to be all around her. Her forehead creased in concentration as she tried to pick up on the fragments of conversation. Engrossed in her task, she almost missed the first apparition that appeared.

However, when one passed right by her face, she startled back with a yelp.

Stella whirled around. There wasn't just one or two apparitions, but dozens upon dozens filling the hall. She placed a hand against her heart. It beat fiercely against her chest as she absorbed the phantom figures walking up and down the hall.

Demons, all of them.

Pinpricks raked over her skin. Stella stilled, but no phantom demon paid her any mind. The observation didn't calm her. Another grouping of four phantom demons strode past Stella, a hellish cackle echoing out of one. Stella expected a chill to accompany their presence, as most ghosts and specters did, but there was no drop in temperature.

It wasn't cold at all in the mysterious hall. In fact, it was pleasantly warm.

Real.

The moment the realization entered her mind the room altered again. Every demon turned corporeal. Their voices suddenly amplified and bounced around the hall. Stella didn't think she could still further, but somehow, she managed. Breath held captive in her chest, she dared not even move her gaze as a demon walked straight at her.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

As it swiftly closed the distance between them, Stella's survival instincts kicked in. She angled out of the way only for him to adjust course as well for a trio of demons walking in the opposite direction.

In the end, half the demon's body went through Stella like it was a dense fog.

Her long-held breath released in a gasp as a strange vibration rang throughout her body. She stared down at herself in amazement to see that it was her body that held a slight transparency. I'm the dense fog. Jaw-dropping; Stella tore her gaze away from herself and to the demon who passed through her. She caught the end look of his confusion as he stared over his shoulder at her, but no other awareness tainted his expression.

Stella's mind struggled to grasp what was occurring. Had she become a ghost? A specter? It didn't make sense and yet—

"I'm dreaming," she breathed.

Her hand clapped over her mouth in astonishment. She'd done it. Somehow, she'd actually done it. That's why the hall was so familiar. The high ribbed ceiling. The cherry wood walls. The disturbing statues.

She had dreamed of this place before, but now it was so much more vivid . Alive. Real. Stella's hand dropped as she began to move down the hall, avoiding the demons as best she could. She needed to explore. She needed to figure out where this place was that housed so many demons. Demons she only vaguely recognized.

Maybe you're in another realm, like the Otherworld.

Stella shivered. She hoped not.

Keeping near the wall, she peered into rooms left open and partly curtained off alcoves, for in her incorporeal state, she couldn't gain access to any that were closed. Stella found it odd but made the most of what she could do. Many open doors led into nondescript rooms or long halls. Each alcove, it seemed, was designed for intimate gatherings or meetings of no more than four people.

None of it gave any clue as to where the grandiose hall was—only that it was home to a demon population three times the size of what occupied the Dark Court. Stella's mouth twisted this way and that as her eyes were drawn back to a large black door featuring a seamless looping pattern of golden inlay from top to bottom. It was closed, and yet...

There was something about it that called to her. A gut feeling. Stella walked to it and reached for the oversized doorknob, even though experience had proved the act pointless. The moment her fingers grazed the doorknob, she was transported inside the room. A rush of blood went to her head as her vibrating body acclimated to the new space. When it finally settled, Stella could think clearly again.

The clarity, unfortunately, only lasted for a moment.

" Oh my ."

A huge statue dominated the far end of the room. Bathed in candlelight, its gold facade gleamed from every angle. Stella gulped, a wave of nervousness and unease washing over her the longer she stared at the larger-than-life deity. Numbly, she noted the raised dais before it along with a black podium.

Is it a worship hall?

The walls were dressed in velvet banners of gold and candles lined the walls and floors. Yet the deity on display was one unfamiliar to her.

With the head of a wolf and the body of a man, it held a bow in one hand and the other a multi-use weapon. One used to bludgeon and then perhaps chop a person up into tiny pieces after. Stella couldn't take her eyes off the curved blade that topped the head of the weapon. For some reason, she had the disturbing notion that if she looked away, it would come crashing down on her and split open her skull.

It was a nauseating thought. One that was followed by the sudden appearance of two people on the dais.

Stella stumbled back at the abruptness of it. No chilly breeze swept in with their appearance, which meant it wasn't a hallucination. That didn't stop Stella from trembling as icy tendrils of fear locked around her limbs.

One of the two people lay on the ground in the middle of the dais. A growing pool of blood surrounded their body. Another icy tendril wrapped around her heart.

Their backs were to Stella, leaving their only defining feature, their long hair, which was plaited in box braids. The sight twisted up Stella's insides. She took a step forward. The urge to protect was driving her toward the prone individual. Of course, it was with her movement that the second person began to move.

Stella froze as she watched the demoness glide toward the foot of the statue, her arms rising in worship. Pearlescent horns spiraled down from the sides of her head unlike any she'd ever seen before. They reminded Stella of an animal's horns. Some kind of goat or ox that used their horns to ram into opponents.

The demoness began speaking.

Her words were far too low for Stella to hear, but it mattered not. Whatever words she said had their desired effect. The body on the floor lurched toward the statue. Then again. At the third lurch, a sickening crunch and ripping sound spilled through the room.

Stella gagged as the person's heart soared toward the statue and exploded in a fine red mist.

"Wake up," Stella demanded of herself. "Wake up, wake up, wake up."

She pinched savagely at her arm. The room wavered like a mirage before her eyes. Fear, so icy cold, had her fully in its grasp. Or was she hallucinating now? She didn't know.

" Stella ."

Terror spiraled through Stella as she whirled her gaze around the room. Her name came from a male tongue. Stella's throat tightened as she reluctantly moved her gaze back to the statue. It was glowing, and the fine mist of blood and tissue from the victim was being absorbed into the golden body.

She whimpered.

" Stella ."

She spun on her heels where the voice came from, but no one was there. "Wake up, damnit."

She pinched at her still-healing abdomen, gasping as pain splintered through her and made the room wobble.

"Stella!"

Her fingers stalled as recognition slapped her in the face. "Raphael!" She spun back around. The demoness and body were gone, but blood remained on the dais. "Raphael?" She called. That was his voice. It was his voice that called to her with such angst—such heartache.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be.

"Wake up," she whispered and went to pinch her arm again but found the purchase of her fingers lacking. Stella glanced down at her hand and froze. Her hand was dripping in blood. Stella's head spun as her eyes alit on her other hand only to find it similarly painted. "Real or not real?"

There was no chance for her to reconcile the events before her as a force of energy slammed into the back of her head.

Stella jerked awake gasping. Her head was pounding and her stomach— oh, Gods .

She scrambled on her hands and knees to the bathroom, barely making it in time to toss the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She slumped back out of breath when she finished. Sweat covered her brow and the back of her neck.

Holy Gods , she had done it. Her stupid plan worked . A half-hearted smile curled up Stella's lips, thought it couldn't sustain itself for more than a few seconds.

She had no idea what to make of what she saw in the hall. The sheer number of demons still left her astounded. As for what happened in the last room… she was afraid she knew exactly what she saw.

A sacrifice.

Stella pulled herself up onto her feet, then immediately grabbed her toothbrush and began to scrub the acerbic taste from her mouth.

It had been a long night. Too long. First the Otherworld, then the Vrana inquisition, and now this? By the time she finished brushing, the finer details of her lucid dream had already slipped away. Panic flared through her, and she made a beeline for her discarded notepad. She began to write as much as she could remember, but with each new detail added others slipped out of her grasp. It was a frustrating exercise. The more she tried to journal, the vaguer her descriptions became, until it all felt like a blur.

Stella stared at the words that made it onto her notepad.

She was no closer to figuring out the location of the demon hub than she had before. Her best guess was that it, too, was in another realm like the Otherworld. But if she dreamed it, did that mean she was meant to explore it in real life? Stella shuddered just thinking about entering such a place—about entering that sacrifice room.

Had it been cold in there? Or was it all her fear?

Stella's bottom lip wound up between her teeth. She didn't know... but there was one thing she did know for certain. Something that shone like a bright light in her heart and soul. Stella took a deep breath as her vision went misty. Her half-hearted smile returned, this time staying put. She didn't need the rhodiola.

And maybe… maybe she never had.