W. Du Plooy
Connor wakes slowly that Sunday. The night before was restless, filled with nightmares. The dreams were so vivid, red blood gushing on the ground—fires crackling in the background with the eerie glow of the flames in dying eyes. He sits up, groaning softly while rubbing the acing muscles in his neck.
Connor, are you okay? I considered waking you but I was unsure if that would be the correct course of action…
I did not realise that you are able to see inside my dreams...
We are more connected than you can imagine. Changing the subject will not help, I think we should talk about the hordlings you killed—it obviously bothers you.
Of course it does! I have been so worried about my family that I managed to push it back but...
Connor can hear his mother talking downstairs. The voices of his family mingle with hers and he immediately realise that he is the subject of discussion.
“Connor seems a bit…down. He was very quiet last night.” Camalus enquires his voice full of concern.
They are worried about me…
I am worried about you too, Connor. Your nightmares are a clear indication of your inner turmoil.
Wait, I want to hear what my mom answers.
“I think what happened in
is bothering him a lot more than he is
letting on. He does not—like taking lives, even if it is in defence of the
“Have you spoken to him?” Artio asks.
“No, I do not want to force the issue. He will talk when he is ready.” Stella answers.
I better get dressed and join them.Connor, you know that I am always here to listen to you