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Dagon & Margot
Sat Aug 8, 2015 23:39

The cold rose, seeping through the thin silk of his pyjamas and into his bones. Dagon opened his eyes. He was surrounded by swimming colours: blues, greens, reds. Beyond them, high above a shimmering emerald in an arch stone.

He sat up slowly. The adjustment folded the truth together in his mind. The emerald was the crystal in the All-Seeing Eye, the Manor’s sorting stone. He was, therefore, in the front hall. He didn’t remember coming here, but he also wasn’t worried. He being watched over and kept safe. The charm he wore was reassuring in that area. It occurred to him that he should be worried about being caught out after curfew, but that didn’t him either. He turned to make his way back to Balgren, and stopped.

There was a sound, at the very edge of his hearing. The maddeningly jungle of a thousands crystals coming together. He looked at the Eye again. A solitary clear piece of colourless prism. Vague hints of green in it.

The noise emanated from that and as he listened, fell towards him. A trail of whispered begging, pleading for help. It stretched to the ground and down the corridor. Without question, he followed it. It was certainly a dream, so why not follow.

The trail moved up the straight stairs, past the classrooms, down the curving steps, down a corridor that didn’t exist in the waking world, past a row of statues. Between Harold the Bean Farmer and Elspeth Bathes was a wrought iron gate. The trail drifted through here, gathered and coalesced.

Help us. Help us. Save us.

He reached up, but hesitated. He didn’t know who these things were. Weren’t there pixies, sprites and things even more dangerous that lured young wizards to their doom this way?

“Which is precisely,” said a feminine voice in its prim, lecturing tone, “why you need to open the gate.”

He blinked. “Aunt Margot?”

She smiled at him sweetly. “It’s okay dear. Open the gate.”

He hesitated.

“It’s okay, baby. They need us. We’re going to make the world a better place. But you need to let me in.”

“There’s kids, disappearing,” he told her.

“I know. That’s why I’m here. I’ll help you, and your friends.”

His hand was on the gate latch, The hinges didn’t even creak.

A crash. The sound of someone cursing the steps to the common room for existing. Dagon turned.

His eyes opened, to stare at the textured ceiling of his Balgren room.

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