🌙 Cyddie's A Quiet Dream <chaptor 8>

Cyddie had put crystal cove to sleep, everyone was tucked up safe as she made her way like every other  night to the tower in the cursed lands where her heart rested in its glass dome on its stone table in the stone cold room of what could only feel like despair

.

Cyddie dreamed of something wonderfully ordinary.

Not castles.

Not crowns.

Not grand adventures.

Just the feeling of finally being safe.

She dreamed of resting her head on someone's lap, wrapped tightly in her well-loved Stitch blanket. One gentle arm rested around her shoulders while the other lay comfortably near her face, where she softly nibbled on their hand in her sleep without even realising.

Beside her sat her favourite cup with its straw, filled with cold lime water, waiting for when she woke.

Her long orange hair had been carefully brushed into neat little plaits, because someone had taken the time to do it just the way she liked.

The room was quiet except for the gentle sounds of a game playing in the background.

They smiled every time she stirred.

Every now and then, they looked down just to make sure she was still comfortable, gently tucking the blanket back around her when it slipped.

There was nowhere else they wanted to be.

They never sighed because she had fallen asleep.

They never wished she would leave.

They simply felt grateful that she trusted them enough to rest.

In that dream, love wasn't loud.

It wasn't proved with grand gestures.

It was found in the little things.

A warm lap.

A favourite blanket.

Fresh water waiting nearby.

Hair gently braided with care.

A peaceful nap while the world carried on around them.

Most of all, it was the quiet certainty that she wasn't too much.

She wasn't a burden.

She wasn't an afterthought.

She was wanted exactly as she was.

Not because she had earned it.

Not because she had done everything perfectly.

But simply because she was Cyddie.

And somewhere deep inside her heart, little Lou smiled.

For perhaps the greatest dream of all was not to be rescued...

It was to finally feel completely safe, deeply loved, and never have to wonder whether she belonged.

For one quiet moment, wrapped in her blanket, breathing softly as someone gently stroked her hair...

She already did.

So, as the dream slowly slipped away, Cyddie found herself once more within the lonely tower.

Above her, the dark stars watched through the cracked glass dome.

The room had no warmth to offer.

Only silence.

The colours had long since drained from the old rags she wore, as though even they had surrendered to the curse that lingered beyond the tower walls.

A quiet shiver ran through her.

Soft whimpers escaped without her meaning them to, carried away into the endless stillness.

The blanket no longer wrapped around her shoulders.

It lay where it had fallen upon the cold stone floor.

Close enough to see.

Far enough to remind her that dreams did not always survive waking.

Her favourite cup was gone.

There was no cool lime water waiting beside her.

No gentle hands.

No careful plaits woven into her orange hair.

Only loose strands stirred by the faint breath of the ancient tower.

She drew her knees closer to her chest.

For a long while...

She simply listened.

The Curse Land was never truly silent.

It breathed.

It sighed.

It remembered.

Far beyond the tower, black mist drifted between twisted crystal trees.

To any wandering soul...

Nothing had changed.

The mist rolled as it always had.

The shadows whispered as they always would.

Yet something, somewhere within the Curse Land, noticed the smallest shift.

It wasn't loud.

It wasn't a cry.

It was quieter than a heartbeat.

Quieter than a falling feather.

It was hope...

breaking.

The ancient mist paused.

Almost imperceptibly, it gathered.

Not enough for ordinary eyes to notice.

Only enough for something that had lived in the darkness for longer than memory itself.

Something had felt the Queen's dream.

Something had felt the loneliness that followed it.

The shadows did not move with hunger.

Nor with malice.

They moved with curiosity.

As though asking a question no one had ever answered.

The darkness flowed gently around the base of the tower before becoming still once again.

Watching.

Waiting.

Listening to the soft breathing of the woman inside.

For the first time in countless years...

The Curse Land itself wondered why a dream so gentle could leave such an ache behind.

And high above, beneath the dark stars, Cyddie never noticed.

She had already closed her tired eyes once more, hoping that if sleep returned...

Perhaps the dream would find its way back to her.