The Half-Waking
Hazel returned to Evervine and Marcel. The blank, distant look on her face instantly alerted Evervine, who closed her book with a soft snap.
"What happened?" Marcel looked up, curiosity stretched across his face, his gaze sharp.
"I was watching Rosa. She is still trying to activate that cursed doll." Even as Hazel spoke, Shylah began to sing a sweet, low song. In Hazel's ear, the words rang clear, synthesized by the Star Bird's arcane magic.
"You may need to go to Spawning Lake sooner than you want, Fatetress."
Hazel looked up, her third eye tingling. "Do you think the item at Spawning Lake can do something against that doll?"
Shylah circled above, drifting in and out of Hazel's private dreamscape in wide, luminous loops. Her song drifted down soft and sweet to Evervine and Marcel, but only Hazel heard the words.
"The things that befall the Fatetress are never coincidence. The threads gather when the danger is near."
Haze nodded in understanding, her mind already racing.
Evervine pursed her lips in irritation. "Stop nodding like we all can understand her and tell us what's going on, Hazel. Cryptic is not a strategy."
"The Emotion Doll actively targeted me," Hazel explained. "It reached out, trying to find me in the stream."
Marcel sucked in a sharp breath. "So it is now activated and actively hunting you?"
"I'm not sure. I heard it laugh, but it was all so one-sided. It was more a warning, or maybe even the thing becoming more and more interested in me."
Evervine scoffed, pushing her jet-black hair back. The green highlights spun like a ribbon caught in a fierce wind, an effect that always mesmerized Marcel. "It is probably laughing at Rosa. Her wanting to hurt you, and you there, passively watching her fail. I still say you should put that girl in her place. Her petty jealousy has already cost us so much."
Both Hazel and Marcel frowned instantly. The memory of Michael was still a raw subject, an unresolved issue that sat between them like a fragile pane of glass.
Hazel shrugged. "I marked three of the boys who were with them. One is in my house; I think he is Corwin Dale. The other two are in your house, Evervine. Let's get some rest today, and we will work on a plan to follow them later."
"After we go and see your patients, right? I really want to see the effect of potion-incantation-dreamscape interaction on a Wizarding brain," Marcel said, his voice laced with the academic thrill of a new experiment.
Evervine stood, rolling her eyes with practiced annoyance. "Calm down, Marcel. The Longbottoms are not your potions class experiment."
"I know," Marcel frowned, his expression conveying that he felt deeply misjudged. "It is just interesting, the intersection of soul health and magical restoration."
Hazel smiled. "We will go first thing in the morning. I think you will like the house. It uses an interesting, multi-layered spell to keep it hidden from non-magical beings."
Evervine laughed, a rich, melodic sound. "I will never understand why En is so adamant on keeping such things separate, unknown, and oddly regulated. Magic should be wild."
"Let's not start that discussion," Hazel sighed, quickly shutting down the existential debate.
She closed her eyes, and her third eye—perfectly round, completely black, and dazzling like a polished jewel—opened. They all instantly felt the dreamscape rise, then release them, as their collective consciousness returned to their physical bodies in the library.
That night, Shylah awoke and drifted down from her perch onto Hazel's bed.
"Wake up, Fatetress. You need to learn to bring on a Half-Waking. You can use this on this Dale boy."
Hazel opened one eye and listened to her best friend. "You have never mentioned a Half-Waking. What is it?"
"You are powerful enough now. Some things can wait for their time. It is a way to talk to a soul while the body sleeps—a gentle projection, not an invasive force."
Hazel frowned. "Corwin's soul is damaged. I don't want to hurt him."
"Very good. You are right. It could hurt him," Shylah affirmed. "Talk to someone close to him and see him through them. You know how to do that. It is a simple soul read, but you need the energy bridge. Use Half-Waking to reach the soul and then do the soul read as normal."
Hazel sat up instantly. "Okay. He has a sister, Celine. I was planning on reading her aura anyway. A soul read would give me so much more."
Hazel sat on top of her bedspread in the lotus position and closed her eyes. An incantation circle, shimmering with violet light, flashed twice beneath her, then Shylah sat directly across from her.
The star bird's feathers began to glow and twinkle like distant stars. Her form began to subtly shift as if she moved between reality and dream, and she began to sing a soft, sweet song that grew sad, then joyous, and back to sweet again.
Hazel's room wavered as if it were a disturbed scene on a clear lake. Then a young girl, maybe a year older than Hazel, stepped through the waving walls and into Hazel's room. Her eyes were open but they were unfeeling, clear liquid pools. Hazel floated up off of her bed, still in lotus position, and hovered to float before her.
Celine was a beautiful girl, long curly blonde hair, a full, fair face, and eyes the color of green grass. Hazel opened her eyes and they were the same clear, liquid pools as Celine's. Streams of pure psychic energy flowed forth from Hazel's eyes and entered Celine's. The entire time, Shylah sang, guided, and powered the complex reading.
Hazel fell into a deep well—she was entering Celine's soul, and it was giving her free access to its memories.
She saw Corwin, vibrant, vital, full of life and enjoying his family. Then he was sad, distant, unfamiliar to Celine's eyes. Then he changed again, tired, secretive, combative, and highly defensive of… Rosa. Then he was sick, and Celine cried, thinking her brother would die soon. Then suddenly, one day, he was well, interested in his family again, vital, but Celine was deeply suspicious.
Hazel was about to leave, as the last of the information flowed to her like metal shavings to a powerful magnet, when she heard it—a desperate, raw mental cry.
"Please help him. Someone, anyone, there has to be a way."
She had stumbled onto a soul wish. She didn't know anyone still did such things; seeking help like that across the magical layers was a dangerous, desperate act. Hazel quickly helped Celine by cutting the wish off before it could propagate further.
The girl better hope no one else heard that cry for help.