Jeremiah woke with a sharp gasp, his body jerking upright before his thoughts could catch up.
The sudden motion sent a dull ache through his ribs and shoulders, and the world pitched sideways for a moment before settling.
“Jeremiah, you’re awake!”
The familiar voice cut through the haze. He turned his head toward it, blinking slowly as his vision cleared.
Sam stood a few steps away, already moving toward him.
It took him a moment to realize he wasn’t in his room.
The ceiling was too bright. The air carried a faint, sterile scent, threaded with something herbal beneath it. His gaze dropped, and only then did he register the narrow cot beneath him, the thin blanket twisted around his waist.
He frowned.
Why was he—
He pushed himself up, trying to swing his legs over the side. The moment his weight shifted, the room lurched again. His balance slipped, and a wave of heaviness sank into his limbs.
Sam was there immediately. She crossed the distance in two quick steps and pressed a firm hand to his shoulder, guiding him back down before he could protest.
“Easy,” she said, her tone steady but not unkind.
Jeremiah frowned up at her. “I was asleep?” he asked, the words coming sluggishly, as if something thick coated his tongue.
Sam glanced over her shoulder, exchanging a brief look with Roy, who stood nearby with his hands folded neatly behind his back. Then she turned back to Jeremiah.
“Yeah,” she said. “You conked out right after you checked on your bird friend.”
Her expression softened a fraction, though the tension in her eyes didn’t ease.
“You feeling alright?”
He dragged a hand over his face, the motion slow, his arms still heavy.
“I… yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think so.” He paused, brow faintly furrowing. “Just… had a weird dream.”
“What about?” Sam asked.
Jeremiah opened his mouth—
—and stopped.
“I don’t know,” he admitted after a beat. “I can’t really remember it.”
Sam studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod.
“Lie back,” she said. “I want to run a scan.”
Jeremiah didn’t argue. He eased himself down onto the cot, the tension draining from his shoulders the moment his back settled against it.
Sam stepped closer, holding a small oval device in one hand. She thumbed a switch along its side, and a faint blue glow flickered to life. The device twitched once, then lifted from her hand and hovered into place above him.
“Hold still.”
A thin band of blue light swept over him from head to toe in slow, even passes. Jeremiah stared up at the ceiling while she worked, jaw tightening against the dull ache that still pulsed through his body. More than once, he had to force his eyes to stay open as the pull of sleep crept back in, heavy and insistent.
After a few passes, Sam stepped back and turned toward the nearby terminal. Her fingers moved quickly across the interface, eyes flicking over the incoming data.
“Well,” she said after a moment, “good news. You’re not dying.”
Jeremiah raised a heavy arm and gave a flat cheer. “Yaaay.”
Sam snorted and shot him a look.
He dragged his hand over his face, trying to shake the lingering fog from his head. “What’s the bad news?”
She tapped the screen once more, then leaned back slightly. Her expression shifted, the hint of humor fading.
“I don’t think you’re opening the shop tomorrow,” she said.
Jeremiah blinked.
“What?” The word came out sharper than he intended.
He tried to sit up again, but this time the effort didn’t even get him that far. His arms trembled under the strain, and his vision blurred at the edges.
Sam was already there. She pressed him back down with a firm hand.
“Doctor’s orders,” she said.
Jeremiah frowned, frustration rising through the lingering fog. “Sam, I’m fine. I just need—”
She shook her head, cutting him off.
“No, you’re not, Jeremiah,” she said, her tone steady. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a mess.”
She turned the display towards him. A digital model of his body hovered in the air, most of it washed in bright, angry orange, with a few areas pulsing red.
Jeremiah winced.
“It’s not as bad as after your fight with the bug,” she continued, “but you’ve got bruising across half your body — some of it deep — and cuts that shouldn’t have closed as clean as they did. You’re running on fumes.”
Her expression tightened, just a fraction.
“The only reason you were still standing earlier was adrenaline and worry.” Her eyes held his. “And the second that dropped, so did you.”
“But the animals—”
“Lewis can handle them.”
“And the shop—”
“Your customers will survive one day without you,” she said, sharper now. Then she drew in a breath, pulling the edge out of her tone. “Listen to me. Your only job right now is not making this worse.”
Sam crossed her arms and gave him a steady look.
“Doctor’s orders,” she repeated.
The words hung between them.
Jeremiah’s shoulders sagged as the last of his resistance drained away. He sank back onto the cot, staring up at the ceiling.
He knew she was right.
That didn’t make it any easier.
“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “Alright.”
Sam studied him for a second longer, then nodded.
“Good.”
——————————————————
Jeremiah woke slowly the second time.
Awareness returned in layers — the dull, aching weight of his body settling into the waking world before his thoughts followed behind it.
He exhaled and opened his eyes.
The Recovery Wing ceiling came into focus above him. For a moment, he simply lay there, letting the quiet settle over him.
“Feel better?” Sam’s voice came from nearby.
Jeremiah turned his head to see her standing a few steps away, arms folded, watching him with that familiar, smug grin she wore when she knew she was right.
“Fine,” he said after a moment, pushing himself up onto his elbows. “You win. I needed that…” He let out a quiet sigh.
He stretched carefully, muscles pulling tight with a lingering soreness, and yawned. When Sam had suggested finishing his nap, he’d resisted at first. Even if he couldn’t open the shop, that didn’t mean things didn’t still need doing. But she’d held firm, insistent that everything else could wait until he could at least stand straight.
Jeremiah drew in a steady breath and swung his legs over the edge of the table.
This time, no sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and Sam’s grin widened.
With her help, he stood and took a few tentative steps. His legs felt stiff, but the heavy, dragging weight from before was gone.
A few minutes later, they stepped out of the clinic together.
Jeremiah carried a small nest-box carefully in both hands, keeping it steady as they moved into the hallway. Inside, the Candlewick slept, its body curled tight beneath the wrap Roy had secured around its wing.
They made their way down the stairs together.
The shop below was calm. Warm light filled the space, and the quiet hum of evening had settled in. Lewis stood behind the counter, wiping down the surface with a cloth. Off to the side, Billy zipped in loose circles around the kitten enclosure, the tiny shapes inside batting lazily at the bubble whenever he drifted close.
The moment Jeremiah stepped off the last stair, Billy turned toward them, gave a sharp trill, and shot forward.
He circled them once, twice, then looped around Jeremiah’s shoulders in quick, excited bursts.
Jeremiah let out a short laugh. “Hey, buddy. I was wondering where you went off to.” He shifted the box slightly, careful not to jostle it. “Got bored waiting for me to wake up, did you?”
Billy drifted lower, turning away as if suddenly very interested in something else. Through the bond, Jeremiah caught a flicker of embarrassment — soft, but unmistakable.
Jeremiah’s smile eased.
Billy’s gaze dipped toward the box. The young kraken puffed slightly, posture tightening.
“None of that,” Jeremiah said, his tone firm but not harsh. “He’s no more at fault for what happened than you are.”
Billy flinched. His bubble wavered, and he drifted back a few inches.
Jeremiah sighed under his breath.
“If anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I should have—”
Smack.
“Ow—!”
Jeremiah jerked, one hand flying up to his head.
He turned to see Sam glaring at him, her arms folded.
He rolled his eyes, though a hint of a smile tugged at his mouth. “Right. Right.”
He shook his head and turned away, catching Lewis watching them with a poorly hidden grin.
Lewis coughed into his hand and quickly looked back down at the counter.
Jeremiah snorted, and they made their way over.
“Everything went well today, I hope?” he asked.
Lewis nodded. “There were a couple of rough spots, but the kids really stepped up.” He chuckled under his breath. “If they keep this up, you might actually have to hire them.”
Jeremiah shook his head, a grin lingering. “Maybe when they’re older. I’m glad to hear it worked out.”
Lewis’s gaze dropped to the box in Jeremiah’s hands.
“Who’s this, then?”
“A guest,” Jeremiah said simply.
Lewis nodded again. “I saw the new setup out back,” he added. “We expecting more?”
“Hopefully,” Jeremiah said. “For now, just him.”
“Fair enough.” Lewis picked up the cloth again. “I’ll leave you to it. I’ve still got some cleaning to do.”
They parted there. Jeremiah and Sam headed for the courtyard door, while Lewis returned to wiping down the counter. Billy drifted back toward the kittens, though not before casting the Candlewick one last glare.
Jeremiah pushed the door open with his shoulder and stepped out into the cool night air.
The courtyard lay quiet. Light spilled softly from the shop behind them, catching along the metal framework of the atrium and the transparent canopy above.
They crossed the stone path and stepped inside.
The air inside felt cleaner, lighter. A faint current brushed across his skin as the system adjusted around them.
Jeremiah paused.
Something… brushed at the edge of his thoughts.
“Something the matter?” Sam asked.
He frowned slightly, glancing around. “No. Nothing.” He shook his head once. “Just… a bit of déjà vu.”
Sam laughed softly. “I see. Let’s get your friend settled. Then I’m walking you home.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
They made their way toward the central perch.
With Sam’s help, Jeremiah climbed just high enough to secure the box along one of the lower spirals. He took his time, checking the angle and the stability, making sure the injured bird would feel sheltered without risking a bad fall.
When he stepped back down, he gave a small nod.
“That should be good enough. Roy will monitor him overnight, and if something happens, Lewis is close by until I can get here,” he said, though he knew the reassurance was as much for himself as it was for her.
He lingered a moment longer.
Then frowned.
He turned slowly, his gaze drifting around the area until it settled upward toward one of the higher perches.
Sam noticed and followed his gaze. “Déjà vu again?”
“…Yeah,” Jeremiah said, tilting his head slightly.
She chuckled. “Maybe you dreamed about it. You’ve been worrying about the bird nonstop. I’d not be surprised.”
“Maybe,” he said.
He stepped closer to the perch—
Something crunched under his boot.
Jeremiah froze.
He looked down, brow creasing.
Something caught the light, half-hidden beneath a thin layer of mulch. He crouched, brushing the material aside with a careful sweep of his hand.
A large feather lay in the shallow impression.
Color rippled across its surface in soft gradients, shifting with even the slightest movement — reds bleeding into gold, then into green, and hues he couldn’t quite name.
Sam leaned over his shoulder and gasped.
“Wow! That’s beautiful! Where did it come from?” she asked.
Jeremiah frowned. “I don’t know…”
He glanced toward the birdhouse anchor at the center of the atrium. The other end hadn’t been active for long. Had they already had a visitor? The feather didn’t resemble anything from the Candlewicks, not even the bright red Molotov females.
Jeremiah knew that theoretically, other creatures could use the portal, but the Candlewicks were territorial. There was also the question of why their mystery guest hadn’t stayed.
He rose slowly, turning the feather over in his fingers as the colors danced across its surface in a quiet, mesmerizing pattern.
As he did, a System window appeared.
——————❇——————
Seven-Radiance Adarna Feather
Rank: D
Quality: Extraordinary
Keywords: Natural Treasure, Dream-aspected, Recovery Catalyst, Crafting Component
Description: A long, iridescent primary feather shed by a powerful avian creature, carrying a trace of dream-touched radiance and healing flame. Its presence soothes nearby avian beasts, reducing agitation and territorial behavior while promoting a stable, calm environment.
Its warmth helps ward off minor sickness and slightly accelerates natural recovery in nearby beasts. The effect is subtle and supportive rather than curative.
Highly valued as the primary component in the [Seven Songs Wind Chime].
——————❇——————
——————————————————
The radiant, multicolored form moved through the shifting expanse without urgency, her wings beating in a slow, steady rhythm.
Each motion sent threads of colored dreamlight scattering outward, dissolving into the surrounding space. Where those threads touched, fractured images steadied. Blurred memories sharpened. Feeding Nightmares, clinging to their hosts, shrieked and burned away into drifting ash. In their place, softer shapes took root. Flowers of pale light unfurled and anchored themselves around moments of quiet joy, holding them firm against the shifting tide.
In other places, thin paths of light formed between distant points — brief, flickering connections linking one dream to another, connecting souls sometimes literal worlds apart. In this place, such concepts as time and distance held no real power.
Adarna paid none of it any mind. Her goal was elsewhere.
She angled her wings and pressed forward, following a pull that had nothing to do with the surrounding currents.
The endless drift of dreams gave way, slowly at first, then all at once.
A tree rose ahead of her, vast and impossible. Its trunk stretched beyond sight, its branches layered into a canopy that seemed to hold entire worlds within its leaves. Adarna slowed as she approached, her wings beating once, twice, before she settled onto a low-hanging branch.
The moment her talons touched bark, the world shifted.
The infinite tree folded inward, collapsing until the vast expanse of dream narrowed into something more familiar.
Adarna blinked.
She perched now on the branch of a carefully tended bonsai, its leaves trimmed and delicate. The pot beneath it rested in the corner of a quiet room — small, warm, and filled with the soft weight of something lived-in, though every time she tried to focus on the details, they slipped just out of reach.
Adarna dipped her head and began to preen, drawing her beak through the layered feathers along her wing. Colors shifted beneath the motion, hues sliding over one another in quiet gradients. For a few moments, she worked in silence.
Then something brushed against her thoughts.
A presence — not seen, but remembered — pressed gently into the space.
Adarna paused. Her head tilted, crest feathers lifting slightly as her attention shifted toward a place in the room where nothing stood.
“You were right,” she said, her tone light, touched with quiet amusement. “He’s rather interesting. For someone so young.”
Though the space remained empty, Adarna held the memory of a woman standing there as she turned toward her.
The memory took shape as the woman known to her peers as Dream smiled, the expression warm and knowing as she stepped closer. Her hand rose, brushing lightly along Adarna’s crest. The touch was gentle, familiar.
Adarna leaned into the memory, a soft trill slipping from her throat.
“I’m glad you like him, old friend,” Dream said. “I know you have every reason to hate his kind, but I hope he can prove… different.”
Adarna let out a quiet chuckle and drew back just enough to meet her gaze.
“We shall see,” she replied. Her tone remained composed, though a thread of curiosity lingered beneath it. “Though I’m surprised you care so much. It’s not often you act so openly. Or am I to believe it was fate alone that led that boy to my flock in its hour of need?”
Dream’s smile shifted, something wry touching its edges.
“How could I not?” she said. “Law’s champion already watches over him. Mana is pulling strings, as he always does, ensuring the boy’s magical education is… appropriate. And Wyrd…” Her expression softened, just a fraction. “Wyrd is closer than any of us, even if Jeremiah has yet to realize it.”
She paused.
“Only Deviance has yet to make an open move,” Dream continued. “And while I doubt he wishes the boy harm… his lessons are rarely gentle. Though often worth the struggle.”
Adarna tilted her head.
“You want to protect him?” she asked.
Dream shook her head.
“I want to ensure that the choices he makes remain his own,” she said. “Otherwise, everything we’ve done… everything Sarah built… will be for naught.”
The room settled into a quiet stillness.
Adarna studied her for a long moment, the faint hum of dreamspace pressing at the edges of the scene.
Then she gave a small, thoughtful nod.
“We shall see,” she murmured again, softer this time.
And fell into silence.