The shop was empty. Towering shelves, laden with an assortment of goods—most of them magical in nature—stretched from floor to ceiling. Exquisite gold and silver ornaments, along with items adorned with precious gems, rested in glass display cases on white velvet, illuminated by special bluish crystals that had been specially imported for me from the Craglands, or so the story goes, under a personal commission. A faint, elusive scent of exotic spices and aromatic oils lingered in the air.
Suddenly, the door creaked open, and a small silver bell shaped like a birdcage chimed softly, announcing a visitor. I glanced out the window of my office, which overlooked the shop floor. From the other side, it appeared as a mirror, concealing the fact that someone could be watching.
Delia, who had been idly passing the time behind the counter with a textbook on herbology, looked up and offered a warm smile to the customer. I couldn’t see his face; he stood with his back to me. He was a tall man with long, pale hair cascading over his shoulders, clad in a black cloak fastened at the right shoulder with a silver brooch shaped like a stylized cloud pierced by a lightning bolt.
“A mage,” I thought to myself. “But not one I recognize. I’ve never seen him around here before. Probably one of those Nazir rounded up from all corners of the world for his grand experiment. Well, that’s fine by me. There’s always a profit to be made. Mages are forever in need of ingredients for their potions or some ritual trinket or another. And the enchantresses? They can’t resist a pretty bauble. So, Dana, you’ll never be short of work…”
The visitor spoke politely to Delia, gesturing toward one of the shelves. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but it seemed the gentleman mage was looking to replenish his stock of herbs. Delia began placing various small boxes and glass vials on the counter, and he nodded approvingly. He then pulled out a small pouch, packed his purchases inside, and paid her. He must have offered a compliment, because Delia gave a reserved smile. She was always a serious young woman, never one to flirt with customers.
The man in black took a few steps toward the door, then abruptly turned and looked straight at my mirrored window.
“Come out, Nightingale,” he said. “I can see you.”
I recoiled from the window in alarm. No, it couldn’t be. This isn’t real! I must be dreaming…
***
And indeed, it was just a dream. I opened my eyes to find my head resting on Vent’s shoulder, his arms wrapped around me. He blinked sleepily, as if trying to figure out where he was. Clearly, he’d just woken up too.
“You had another dream, didn’t you?” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, you know how it is with me.”
“I got worried. I thought you might be in pain.”
“Did I scream?”
“No, you were quiet, but you trembled all over, like you’d seen something terrifying.”
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it!”
He pressed his forehead to mine and looked into my eyes.
“Come on now, tell me why you were acting like that,” he teased playfully. “Maybe it wasn’t something scary at all. Maybe you were trembling for a completely different reason…”
I pressed a finger to his lips.
“As usual, you’re way off the mark with your jokes. Fine, I’ll tell you, because this dream involves you too…”
He propped a pillow behind his back and sat up in bed, pulling me closer.
“This ought to be good. I’m already on the edge of my seat for something juicy…”
His eyes sparkled with mischief, and his hand had already slipped under my shirt. I swatted his fingers away.
“Stop distracting me. This is a serious dream. But I can’t figure out what it means.”
“Alright, let’s unpack it together,” Vent agreed.
“I dreamed of a strange place—some kind of shop filled with magical items. And I knew it was mine; I was the owner. I was sitting in a back room when a man in a black cloak walked in…”
“And then it turns out he’s a vampire with fangs this big!” Vent made a comically exaggerated grimace. “Why do all girls dream of vampires at some point?”
“Vent, what are you on about with vampires? This man—he was strange. Dressed in a black cloak with a silver brooch shaped like a cloud and lightning on his shoulder. All in black, with long pale hair, and a peculiar scar right here on his cheek. And I thought it was Master Blade.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. He’s even haunting your dreams now,” Vent’s tone turned serious, and he shifted away slightly. “I thought after we finished our studies, that man would leave you alone. He’s already ruined all our plans. Instead of heading to Mirte, we’re stuck moving to your Capital. And you’ve been sighing and moping ever since. Now he won’t even let you rest in your sleep…”
“Vent, are you jealous? That’s ridiculous. Anyway, you can relax. It wasn’t Master Verius. He doesn’t have a scar like that on his face, and his brooch is completely different. You know full well he wears a sword emblem on his cloak, not a lightning bolt.”
“So who was this mysterious man in your dream, then?”
“It was you…”
“What nonsense! I don’t have a scar or a lightning brooch. And long hair or black clothes? I can’t stand either…”
“And yet, it was you, Vent!”
“Alright, let’s say it was me. Then what happened?”
“Nothing. I woke up. But I was left with this feeling… you know, like when you think you’ve seen a ghost.”
“That’s it,” he said, grabbing me in his arms and flipping me onto my back. “Not only do I show up in your dreams looking like some creepy stranger, but now you’re calling me a ghost? That definitely calls for some punishment!”
I didn’t even try to resist. A wave of desire washed over me, making me forget everything else in the world, even that bizarre dream.
But as we lay there afterward, tangled in each other’s arms and catching our breath, a sudden thought struck me.
“We’ve got an audience with the king today! Vent, what time is it?”
We both lifted our heads and glanced at the clock hanging across from the bed. The hands pointed to a quarter to twelve.
“Damn it, how did we oversleep like this?” Vent muttered. “We’ve got barely any time to get ready.”
“This is all your fault!” I exclaimed. “How am I supposed to look presentable for my introduction at court now?”
“Big deal. Just cast an illusion on yourself. You’re a mighty enchantress, aren’t you?”
I smacked him with a pillow and dashed to the bathroom, tripping over the clothes strewn across the floor in a picturesque mess.
And so began our independent, grown-up life.