Sweet Waking

By Beka Gremikova

All I need is a nightmare.

Alora paused on the threshold of the Dream Mines and took a deep, steadying breath. For the past century, she’d mined dreams to occupy herself while she waited for the chance to break her sleeping curse and leave the dreamworld forever. Sweet waking rather than sweet dreams.

Tonight, that chance had arrived. One hundred years to the day Nijak’s curse had fallen, she would scare herself awake. If she didn’t…

She shuddered. She’d be nothing but a skeleton trapped in a castle swallowed by thorns. Such was her curse—wake up exactly one hundred years later, or die. Plain and simple.

Well, she would wake up. She would see her family again in the Open-Eyes world and attend university to study dream cultivation. She’d spite Lord Nijak, who’d cursed her when her family aligned themselves with King Ephrem in the bitter battle over the dreamworld.

Alora squared her shoulders and stepped into the mine. Green veins streaked the pearly rock that arched around her. Some led to dreams, and others to the nightmares she sought. She swallowed. She had only magic enough to mine one nightmare, and if it was loyal to Nijak, it could destroy the Dream Mine.

I wish Ephrem was here to give me advice, she thought. She rarely saw him, as breaks in the fighting were uncommon. I don’t have much choice, other than a prince giving me True Love’s Kiss, and…  She grimaced. I don’t have any princes in mind.

She was on her own.

She stepped closer to a forest-dark vein in the rock, noting golden petals spattered through the green. She sighed. Probably a dream of frolicking through a wooded glade. She’d had enough of those.

Nearby, a lighter line of green streaked the wall, marbled with blood-red smears and silver, sword-shaped slivers.

Far more promising. She snatched a pickaxe leaning against the wall and chipped at the rock around the vein. After what felt like hours, the rock fell away completely.

Hissing filled the cavern. A hulking, furry marikit appeared, its fangs glistening, bulbous eyes locked on her face. It licked its lips, a growl rumbling from its throat.

The cavern trembled, rock grating in her ears. Her pulse raced. If she remembered her few dream cultivation studies properly, that was her consciousness shifting. Now, the marikit just had to attack her fully, and the adrenaline should shock her awake—

Someone barrelled past her, blocking her way. She blinked in astonishment at a prince dressed head to toe in green, waving a sword like it was no heavier than a stick. “Fear not, lovely princess!” he shouted.

Oh, no. He was part of the nightmare?

The prince parried, and the marikit skittered backwards, light on its feet for such a large monster.

“No! I need that nightmare!” Alora latched onto the prince’s arm. The cavern trembled under their feet, and both Alora and the prince staggered forward. The marikit grunted, nearly losing its footing.

Alora caught herself before she fell. That was a stronger rumble than before! She glanced up hopefully, but the quaking had ceased. Her fingers prickled with an odd sensation where they’d touched the prince’s bare arm.

Maybe simply interacting with this nightmarish magical prince would be enough to rouse her consciousness?

The marikit howled and lunged. The prince shoved her aside, and she fell, smearing her gown with green-speckled dirt. He hacked at the marikit, who swiped back at him with long, dark claws.

Alora jumped up, reaching out to grab his arm again.

The next instant, the prince struck the marikit between its ribs. The nightmare disintegrated, and the prince beamed at her before crumbling into fine green dust.

She stood there, arm still outstretched.

That was it. Her one chance, gone. She covered her face with a trembling hand.

Footsteps echoed along the tunnel, and she glanced up as a tall, rainbow-robed figure strode toward her. Ephrem’s long, dark-green hair billowed like a sail in his wake. “Alora! I’m glad to see you—and my mines—are still in one piece!” He stopped beside her, shaking his head at the pile of green dust at their feet.

“Not for long if I don’t wake up,” she snapped, dragging her sleeve across her nose. “I thought you were too wrapped up with Nijak to help!”

“There’s been a break in the fighting. Even Nijak’s troops get tired.” Ephrem cracked his knuckles. “But I’m here now, and we’re going to wake you up. Without breaking anything.”

“Or kissing,” she said, crossing her arms. “We don’t know each other that well.” Yet. Maybe one day. When it could be her choice, and not because breaking a curse required it. She rubbed her fingers together, considering how the tunnels had trembled when she touched the prince’s arm. “Do you know anything about magic being affected by touch other than True Love’s Kiss?”

He shook his head. “Not that I’ve heard of, but…” He grinned sheepishly. “You’re also the first sleep-cursed princess that I’ve ever met. You want me to try something else?”

She nodded.

His brow furrowed. “If it doesn’t work—?”

“Try it first.”

“All right.” He faded from view as he crossed into the Open-Eyes world. Alora held her breath.

Moments later, the cavern quivered. The glittering veins of green around her exploded into a dizzying blur…

And she sat up in bed, blinking out at her own cozy chamber. Light green curtains fluttered in a soft spring breeze. Beside her, Ephrem held her hand.

“It worked,” he said. “Imagine that. I never knew magic could be so gullible.” He released her hand. “Far less painful than scaring yourself awake.”

What a fantastic area of dream cultivation study, Alora thought. Nonconventional methods of lifting sleeping curses.  Her fingers suddenly itched. “I need a quill and paper!”

Grinning, Ephrem found them at her nearby desk and carried them over. “Sweet Waking, Alora,” he said, and handed her the quill.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Beka Gremikova writes and dreams from the Ottawa Valley, Ontario, Canada. An avid explorer of folklore and myth, she loves twisting both well-known and little-known fairytales. Her writing has been included in Bingeworthy, A Kind of Death from Uncommon Universes Press and the Faces to the Sun collection edited by S.J. Blasko. When she’s not travelling, writing, drawing, or watching anime, she can be found curled up in a corner with a mystery novel.

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