Chapter Two
The second visitor arrived like a storm trying to pretend it was merely a breeze.
Khali heard her coming long before she appeared—not just the footsteps, but the energy that preceded them, crackling through the afternoon air like lightning seeking ground. This was no village woman approaching with tentative hope. This was someone accustomed to being noticed, to taking up space in the world with the casual confidence of those born to privilege.
The woman who swept into view wore traveling clothes that tried desperately to be simple and failed at every turn. The fabric was too fine, the cut too precise, the color too perfectly matched to bring out the warm undertones in her tanned skin. Her black hair had been braided in what was clearly meant to be a practical style, but even that couldn't hide its lustrous health or the way it caught the light like polished obsidian.
"Oh, your cottage is absolutely enchanting! It's exactly how I've always imagined a fairy tale dwelling should look—you know, the sort where the wise woman is secretly lovely and the woodland creatures all adore her."
Khali looked up from her herb garden to find a young woman standing at her gate, hands clasped together in apparent delight. Everything about her screamed wealth trying to play at being casual—from the traveling cloak that probably cost more than most families saw in a year to the way her perfectly manicured nails caught the afternoon light.
"Though between you and me," the visitor continued without invitation, "you could really use some window boxes. Cascading petunias would be divine here. Oh! And maybe some of those darling little fairy lights the merchants sell in the capital. Not that I'm judging—rustic has its own charm, obviously. I'm just saying a little zhuzh never hurt anyone."
"Can I help you?" Khali asked mildly, setting down her gardening shears.
The woman laughed, a tinkling sound that had definitely been practiced in front of mirrors. "Gods, where are my manners? Mother would absolutely die. I'm Jade—Princess Jade of Moradim, but please don't curtsy or anything tedious like that. I'm traveling incognito." She gestured at her expensive cloak with apparent sincerity. "You know, blending in with the common folk, experiencing life beyond palace walls, very educational."
Khali bit back the observation that her idea of 'incognito' still involved enough jewelry to fund a small village for a year. "And you've come here because...?"
"Oh! Right. Yes." Jade's perfectly composed expression cracked slightly, revealing something rawer underneath. "So this is mortifying, but I've been having these absolutely horrific nightmares. Like, worse than the time I dreamed I showed up to the Summer Gala in last season's silhouette." She shuddered dramatically. "And Countess Meredith—you know, the one with the unfortunate nose—she told Lady Pemberton who told my friend Celia that there's this woman by the river who helps with bad dreams. Though honestly, she made you sound ancient and terrifying, which clearly you're not. You're actually quite pretty, in a... woodland hermit sort of way."
Khali opened the gate, recognizing that this particular storm would blow itself into her cottage regardless of invitation. "Why don't you come inside and tell me about these nightmares?"
"You're a lifesaver. Honestly. Do you know how hard it is to maintain proper skincare when you're not sleeping? I've gone through three jars of that fancy under-eye cream from Kelthane, and I still look like a raccoon. A well-bred raccoon, obviously, but still."
Inside the cottage, Jade moved like a curious magpie, touching everything with delicate fingers while keeping up a constant stream of commentary. "Oh, this is quaint! Very authentic. Though—and please don't take this the wrong way—have you considered color-coding your herb jars? I read this fascinating treatise on organizational systems last month. I couldn't actually follow most of it, but the illustrations were very clear about the benefits of visual categorization."
"The nightmares," Khali prompted gently, setting water to boil.
Jade finally settled into a chair, though 'settled' was perhaps too calm a word for the way she arranged herself with practiced grace. "Right. So picture this: I'm walking through a city—I think it's supposed to be my city but it's all wrong. Everything's grey and dusty and abandoned. Like, completely empty. No servants, no merchants, no anyone." She paused dramatically. "Do you have any idea how creepy empty streets are? It's like being at court when everyone's gone to watch an execution, but worse."
"Go on," Khali encouraged, adding herbs to the steeping pot.
"There are all these things just... left behind. Toys in the dust—which, can you imagine? Who lets their children play in the street anyway? So unsafe. And there are books everywhere with their pages flapping around. Perfectly good books! Just abandoned! The waste of it honestly offends me more than the creepiness." She accepted the cup of tea Khali offered, sniffing it suspiciously before taking a delicate sip. "Oh, this is actually lovely. Very soothing. Anyway, where was I?"
"The abandoned city."
"Right! So I'm wandering around this empty place, and I keep hearing this woman screaming. She sounds absolutely hysterical—and not in the funny way. In the 'someone should really give her a calming tonic' way. But I can never find her, which is probably for the best because what would I even say? 'Hello, I'm also trapped in this nightmare, would you mind keeping it down?'"
Despite herself, Khali found her lips twitching. There was something oddly endearing about Jade's complete inability to take even her own nightmares entirely seriously.
"But here's the worst part," Jade continued, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Sometimes there's this man. Prince, I think—he has that whole brooding aristocrat thing going on. Cheekbones you could cut glass with, you know the type. Except his eyes are all wrong. Black. Like, not dark brown that looks black in certain lights—I dated a baron's son like that once, very dramatic—but actually black. Like looking into nothing."
Her voice dropped, losing some of its affected lightness. "He smiles at me, and it's... it's wrong. Everything about him is wrong. And there are these shadow things with him that make people just... stop existing. Not die. Just stop. And I wake up feeling like something terrible is about to happen, except I have no idea what or when or why my subconscious decided to torture me with streets full of abandoned toys when everyone knows I don't even like children that much."
Khali studied her visitor over the rim of her own cup. Beneath the affected mannerisms and constant chatter, she could see genuine distress. Dark circles shadowed Jade's eyes despite what was clearly expertly applied cosmetics, and her hands trembled slightly when she wasn't actively controlling them.
"How long have you been having these dreams?"
"Two months. Started right after—" Jade cut herself off, color flooding her cheeks. "It's silly."
"Tell me anyway."
"Fine, but you can't judge me. There's this girl, Treila. We were at the Midsummer Ball, and she wore the exact same gown I'd commissioned. The exact same one! Do you know how long I spent with the seamstress getting that bodice perfect? And she just waltzed in looking absolutely divine in it, and when I very reasonably pointed out the social faux pas, she had the audacity to apologize. Sincerely! With those big doe eyes and that sweet smile, like she actually felt bad about upstaging me at my own family's ball."
Jade's knuckles had gone white around the teacup. "Everyone took her side, obviously. 'Oh Jade, don't be so sensitive.' 'It's just a dress, Jade.' 'She probably didn't know, Jade.' As if anyone could accidentally commission an identical gown with hand-sewn pearl details and Ashanti silk imported specifically from the eastern provinces!"
"And the dreams started that night?"
"Yes! Which makes no sense. I've been socially sabotaged before—it comes with the crown, darling—but I've never had nightmares about it. Mother says I'm being dramatic, Father just gets that look like he's calculating dowries, and my ladies all pretend to sympathize while secretly thinking I deserve it for that thing with Baron Henrick's poetry reading. Which, for the record, anyone would have laughed. His metaphors were criminally overwrought."
Khali rose, moving to her shelves with practiced purpose. "Let me prepare something for you. These dreams may be your mind's way of processing stress."
"Oh, I've tried everything," Jade said, watching Khali work with curious eyes. "Sleeping draughts made me feel fuzzy all day—completely ruined my ability to properly appreciate court gossip. Wine just gave me a headache on top of the nightmares. I even tried reading philosophy before bed, thinking boring thoughts would lead to boring dreams, but I just ended up more confused about the meaning of existence AND still dreaming about abandoned cities."
Khali mixed her herbs carefully—valerian for rest, passionflower for anxiety, a touch of chamomile for its gentle nature. Nothing too strong, nothing that would interfere if these dreams were more than they seemed.
"Here," she said, handing over the prepared bottle. "Take this before bed. If it doesn't help, come back in three days."
Jade paid without haggling—gold coins that she pulled from a purse that probably cost more than the cottage. "You're much nicer than everyone said," she announced. "They made you sound all mysterious and probably cursed. But you're just a very pretty woman who lives alone and makes tea. Which, now that I think about it, is exactly what threatened men would call mysterious and cursed." She paused at the door. "Do you get invited to many parties? Because you should come to the Harvest Ball. I could introduce you to people. Get you a proper dress. Something in jewel tones would be stunning with your coloring."
After she left in a whirlwind of expensive perfume and unsolicited social planning, Khali stood in her doorway feeling oddly unsettled. There had been something in those dreams, something that tickled at the edges of her divine perception. But surely not. Prophetic dreams didn't come to pampered princesses whose biggest concern was social rivalry.
Did they?
Three days later, Jade returned looking significantly less put-together. Her usually perfect hair showed signs of hasty pinning, and her cosmetics couldn't quite hide the exhaustion etched into her features.
"Your herbs are broken," she announced without preamble, sweeping into the cottage like a very tired hurricane. "The dreams are getting worse. Last night I could smell the ash. Do you know how disturbing it is to wake up thinking your bedroom is on fire only to realize the smoke was in your head? My lady's maid nearly threw water on me."
"Tell me exactly what happened," Khali said, guiding her to a chair.
"The same dream but more... real. I could feel the dust between my fingers, taste the ash in the air. And the prince—he spoke to me this time. Said things that made no sense. Something about silence being hungry and the void missing its children. Which, what does that even mean? The void doesn't have children. I read a cosmology text once—well, I read the first chapter—and it was very clear that the void is the absence of things, not a parent of things."
Jade pressed her palms against her eyes. "And the woman's screaming was so loud I woke up with my ears actually ringing. My throat hurt like I'd been the one screaming. This isn't normal, is it? Please tell me this is just my mind being dramatic. Mother always says I have an overactive imagination."
Khali made a decision. "I want to try something different. It may seem strange, but I believe it will help me understand what's happening."
"At this point, I'd let you paint me blue and dance naked under the moon if it would give me one decent night's sleep."
"Nothing quite that dramatic," Khali assured her. "I'm going to sing you to sleep, and I'll... observe your dreams. Try to understand what your mind is showing you."
"That's a thing you can do?" Jade blinked. "Wait, of course it is. You're the mysterious river witch. Dream-walking is probably standard for your type. Though I have to say, if you see anything embarrassing in there—like that recurring dream where I show up to court naked except for my grandmother's tiara—we're never speaking of it."
Despite the gravity of the situation, Khali found herself smiling. "Your secrets are safe with me. Lie down. Rest your head in my lap."
Jade complied with only minimal fussing about wrinkles in her traveling dress. This close, Khali could sense something she'd missed before—a faint shimmer of power, untrained and unrecognized, but unmistakably present.
She began to sing.
The lullaby was ancient, predating human language and speaking directly to the dreaming mind. It was a bridge between waking and sleeping, a path that only those with divine heritage knew how to walk. Jade's breathing deepened, her features relaxing as sleep claimed her.
And Khali followed her down into prophecy.
The transition was jarring. The dreamscape hit her with the full force of true vision, every detail sharp with the clarity that only prophetic sight could achieve. This was no anxiety dream, no mental processing of social stress. This was a glimpse of tomorrow, though how far tomorrow Khali couldn't yet tell.
The city—and she recognized it now as Moradim, though changed by time—sprawled before her in abandoned desolation. The architecture was evolved, advanced in ways that suggested centuries had passed. Buildings reached higher, streets ran in patterns that current city planning hadn't yet conceived. But it was empty, drained of life like a corpse drained of blood.
The toys Jade had described lay exactly where prophecy had placed them. But now Khali could see the subtle details—the craftsmanship spoke of techniques not yet invented, materials not yet discovered. One of the dolls had eyes that should have moved on their own, tiny mechanisms visible through cracks in its porcelain face. Technology that wouldn't exist for generations.
"You came."
Khali turned, and there he was. The prince from Jade's nightmares stood before her, but now she could see him truly. This was no mortal man, no simple villain from an anxious mind. This was something Other, something that had crawled into human flesh and worn it like an ill-fitting costume.
"How... curious," he said, and his voice came in stops and starts, as if speech was a puzzle he was still solving. "The seer brings... a passenger. One who tastes of... old starlight. Divine marrow. You are not... meant... to be here."
"What are you?" Khali demanded, standing her ground though every instinct screamed danger.
His head tilted at an angle that human necks shouldn't achieve. "I am... what comes... after. Before. Between. I am the... hunger... that preceded the first word. The silence... that will swallow... the last." His void-touched eyes fixed on her with terrible fascination. "Your kind... built reality like... children... stacking blocks. So proud. So... finite. But the void... remembers... when nothing was... everything."
He moved closer, and reality rippled around him, showing tears in the fabric of the dream. Through those tears, Khali glimpsed something that made her divine nature recoil—an endless hunger, a negation so complete it didn't just destroy but unmade, unraveled, returned things to the nothing before creation.
"This city... will fall... to silence. Its people... will return... to the beautiful... nothing. The void... misses its children... calls them... home." His smile was a wound in reality. "Years from now... so many years... the seer's bones... will be dust. But she... sees true. When the barriers... grow thin... when your kind's... great working... weakens... we will... pour through. And all... will be... silent."
He reached for her with hands that weren't quite solid, fingers that existed in too many dimensions at once. Where he touched, Khali felt herself beginning to unravel, her carefully maintained mortal form dissolving like sugar in rain. The wrongness of him, the absolute antithesis of everything she was, sent her fleeing back to waking with Jade clutched tight in her power.
They gasped back to consciousness together, Jade sitting up so quickly she nearly cracked her head against Khali's chin.
"What was that?" Jade's eyes were wide, all affectation stripped away by terror. "That was... that was..."
"Real," Khali confirmed quietly, still shaking from the contact with that wrongness. "You have the Sight. It's a rare gift—the ability to see possible futures in your dreams."
"Gift?" Jade's laugh was borderline hysterical. "You call seeing the end of the world a gift? And did you see that thing? What even was that? His face was right but everything else was wrong, like someone taught a nightmare how to wear skin but forgot to mention things like blinking and having normal joints!"
"I don't know what he was," Khali admitted. "But the vision... it's far in the future. Generations from now. The city I saw had evolved beyond current architecture. The toys contained technology that doesn't exist yet. Whatever this threat is, it's not immediate."
"Oh good, so my great-great-grandchildren get to deal with the nightmare prince and his reality-eating shadow friends. That's so much better." Jade pressed her palms against her eyes. "I can't do this. I can't know this. How do I unknow this?"
Khali moved to her shelves with new purpose, selecting different herbs this time. Plants that grew in liminal spaces, that understood the weight of unwanted knowledge. "I can help. These won't remove your Sight—that's part of you, woven into your very being. But they'll muffle it, give you control. Place them under your pillow when you sleep. They'll build walls between your dreaming mind and the visions."
"And the prophecy? The empty city, the void prince, the whole world-ending situation?"
"Is a problem for another generation," Khali said firmly. "You've seen a possible future, one of many. Between now and then, a thousand choices will be made, a million paths taken. The future is never fixed until it becomes the past."
Jade accepted the herbs with shaking hands. "This is insane. I came here for help with nightmares and instead I find out I'm some kind of prophetic harbinger of doom. Do you know what this is going to do to my social calendar? I can't exactly make small talk about the weather when I know the world might end in a few centuries!"
Despite everything, Khali found herself oddly charmed by Jade's ability to find the superficial even in cosmic horror. "You don't have to tell anyone. Live your life. Make your choices. Let the future worry about itself."
"Easy for you to say," Jade muttered, then paused. "Wait. You knew exactly what to do. You walked into my dreams like it was nothing. You're not just some hedge witch, are you?"
"I'm someone who helps with nightmares," Khali said simply. "That's all that matters right now."
Jade studied her for a long moment, intelligence flickering behind those carefully cultivated mannerisms. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But if the world does end and I'm somehow still around as a very well-preserved ghost, I'm haunting you first." She paused at the door. "The offer for the Harvest Ball still stands, by the way. Prophetic doom visions or not, you could use a social life. And maybe a better skincare routine. I have this amazing cream from the southern merchants..."
She left still chattering about beauty products, as if normalcy could be restored through expensive moisturizers and proper event planning. But Khali had seen the fear beneath the facade, the way Jade's hands trembled as she clutched the herbs.
Standing alone in her cottage, Khali considered what she'd witnessed. A threat from the void itself, wearing mortal flesh like a mockery. A future so distant that the players hadn't even been born yet. And a silly, vain, unexpectedly endearing princess who would have to live with the knowledge of what might come to pass.
The river sang its eternal song outside, and Khali listened with new attention. Somewhere in that flow of time and possibility, darkness waited. But for now, in this moment, there was only the evening light through her windows and the hope that some futures never came to pass.
She had given Jade what protection she could. The rest would be up to time, chance, and the inexorable flow of choices that carried all things toward tomorrow—whatever tomorrow might bring.