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The nightmare began with silence.
Not the peaceful kind that settled over the atelier after the lamps were extinguished and the girls had finally stopped whispering between their rooms, but a dead, suffocating silence that seemed to swallow even the sound of Qifrey’s own breathing.
He stood alone in a vast white chamber, though he could not remember entering it. The walls curved endlessly upward, smooth and without doors, windows or seams, and beneath his boots the floor reflected him with such clarity that it looked like another Qifrey had been trapped beneath the glass.
That reflection only had one eye
Qifrey stared down at it, unable to move. The face beneath him was younger, frightened and pale, his singular blue eye opened wide as if it were trying to warn him of something. When Qifrey lifted one hand, the reflection did not copy him. Instead, it pressed both palms against the underside of the floor and began to pound.
But no sound came.
The reflected boy’s mouth opened in a scream Qifrey could not hear.
Then black ink began to spread beneath the glass.
It curled around the boy’s wrists first, thin as drawn lines, before winding up his arms in intricate patterns. Sigils formed across his skin, one after another, each more complex than the last. Qifrey recognised none of them, yet some buried part of him understood exactly what they would do.
Erase.
Reshape.
Take.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands against the floor. “Stop,” he said, but his voice vanished into the silence. “Please, stop.”
The boy beneath the glass looked up at him.
A dark hollow remained where his right eye should have been surrounded by those crawling lines. Qifrey recoiled, but the reflection reached through the glass as though it had become water. A small hand seized his wrist with desperate strength.
The chamber changed.
Suddenly, he was no longer kneeling over his younger self.
Coco lay beneath the glass instead.
She was curled on her side, her pointed hat crushed beneath her, one hand pressed against the barrier. Her face was streaked with tears, and her mouth moved soundlessly as she called for him. Behind her stood Tetia, Richeh and Agott, each separated by walls of black ink that rose higher with every second.
Qifrey struck the glass with his fist.
“Coco!”
This time, sound returned all at once.
Coco’s scream tore through the chamber.
“Master Qifrey!”
The glass beneath him cracked.
He froze.
Coco stared upward as fractures spread around her body.
“No,” Qifrey whispered.
The cracks multiplied beneath his hands. Each attempt to pull away only made them deepen, racing outward like lightning. Coco scrambled backwards, but there was nowhere to go. The white chamber beneath the floor had filled with darkness, and shapes moved within it, figures wearing broad-brimmed hats, their faces hidden beneath shadow.
One of them placed a hand on Coco’s shoulder.
Qifrey slammed both palms against the barrier. “Don’t touch her!”
The figure tilted its head towards him.
Although its face remained hidden, Qifrey felt it smiling.
“You brought her to us,” it said.
The words echoed from every wall.
“You taught her. You watched her. You failed her.”
“No.”
The glass broke.
Coco fell into the darkness.
Qifrey lunged forward and caught her wrist.
For one desperate moment, he held her. Coco dangled above the shifting black void, both hands clasped around his arm while the figures gathered below. Her face was white with terror.
“Don’t let go,” she begged.
“I won’t.” Qifrey tightened his grip until pain shot through his fingers. “I have you, my little star. I promise.”
A second hand caught his shoulder.
Olruggio stood behind him, but something was wrong. His face was bloodless, and black ink stained the front of his robes. A sigil had been burned into his chest.
Qifrey stared at it in horror.
“Olly?”
Olruggio’s expression was exhausted rather than angry. Somehow that hurt more.
“You cannot save everyone,” he said.
“I can save her.”
“You said that before.”
The floor shifted beneath Qifrey’s knees. When he looked down again, blood was spreading across the white surface from beneath Olruggio’s robes.
“No.” Qifrey reached for him with one hand while continuing to hold Coco with the other. “Olly, stay with me.”
Olruggio stepped backwards.
Coco slipped.
Qifrey caught her again, but only barely. Her fingers were sliding through his.
“Choose,” the figures whispered below.
Qifrey looked between them, his breath coming too quickly.
Olruggio was moving farther away, one hand pressed to his chest. Coco was falling. The girls screamed from behind the walls. Brushbuddy appeared near the edge of the broken floor, his white fur stained black, his little body trembling as cracks opened beneath his paws.
“Please,” Qifrey choked out. “Please, I can fix this.”
The chamber answered with hundreds of voices.
“You always think that.”
Coco’s grip broke.
Qifrey screamed her name as she vanished.
The darkness surged upward.
It swallowed Brushbuddy first, then the girls, then Olruggio, whose final expression held no accusation at all, only sadness.
That was worse than hatred.
Qifrey found himself alone again, kneeling in the empty white chamber. His reflection had returned beneath the glass. The younger version of himself stared upward with the one eye remaining now missing and black ink filling his mouth.
“You did this,” the boy whispered.
Then a hand reached from behind Qifrey covering his eye.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
He woke with a broken cry.
His body jerked violently beneath the blankets, one hand flying towards his face while the other clawed at the sheets. The bedroom was dark, lit only by a narrow stripe of moonlight through the curtains, but the nightmare remained wrapped around him so tightly that for several terrible seconds he could still see the white chamber.
He could still feel Coco’s fingers slipping from his.
“No,” he gasped. “No, wait, Coco!”
Beside him, Olruggio woke instantly.
He had been sleeping on his side, one arm tucked beneath the pillow, but the moment Qifrey cried out he pushed himself upright. “Qifrey?”
Qifrey did not seem to hear him. He had backed against the headboard, breath tearing from his chest in quick, shallow pulls. Tears streamed down his face unchecked, catching in the moonlight before dropping and dissolving into the blanket below him. His hands shook so badly that he could not seem to decide whether to cover his face or reach for something that was not there.
“Coco fell,” he said. “I couldn’t- I had her, Olly, I had her, but she-”
Olruggio moved slowly.
He knew better than to seize Qifrey without warning when he woke like this. Instead, he shifted closer until their knees touched beneath the blankets and spoke in a low, steady voice. “Qifrey, look at me.”
Qifrey’s gaze remained fixed somewhere beyond him.
“She was calling for me."
“And there was blood on you.”
Olruggio’s expression softened. “There isn’t any blood on me, look at me, Im okay.”
Qifrey’s eyes darted towards him but did not truly focus. “You were hurt. You walked away, and I couldn’t reach you because Coco was falling. The girls were trapped, and Brushbuddy-”
His voice collapsed into a sob.
Olruggio’s heart twisted. He lifted one hand but stopped before touching Qifrey’s cheek. “Can I hold you?”
The question seemed to reach him more clearly than anything else had. Qifrey blinked, tears slipping from his lashes, and gave the smallest nod.
Olruggio moved at once.
He gathered Qifrey into his arms, one arm wrapping securely around his back while the other cradled the back of his head. Qifrey folded against him as though the strength had suddenly gone out of his body. His face pressed into Olruggio’s shoulder, and the first sob that escaped him was so raw that Olruggio tightened his hold instinctively.
“I’ve got you,” Olruggio murmured into his hair. “You’re here with me. You’re in our room. Nothing from that dream is happening.”
Qifrey clutched the back of his nightshirt. His fingers twisted desperately into the fabric. “It felt real.”
“I know it did.”
“I heard her scream.”
“I know, love.”
The endearment slipped out quietly, natural and unforced. Qifrey’s grip tightened again, but this time his shoulders lowered by the smallest degree.
Olruggio began to rub slow circles between his shoulder blades. He did not tell Qifrey to calm down. He did not tell him it was only a dream, because nothing ever felt like only a dream while fear still had its claws inside the body. Instead, he kept his voice steady and gave Qifrey simple truths he could hold onto.
“Coco is asleep in her room,” he said. “Tetia, Richeh and Agott are safe. Brushbuddy was curled up near the fireplace when we went to bed. You and I are here together.”
Qifrey’s breathing hitched.
Olruggio pressed his cheek against Qifrey’s hair. “Feel the mattress beneath you. Feel my hand on your back. Listen to my voice.”
Qifrey tried.
His chest still rose too quickly, but the breaths were no longer quite as shallow. He shifted one trembling hand from Olruggio’s shirt and pressed it against his chest, directly over his heart.
Olruggio understood without being asked.
“There,” he murmured. “You can feel it, can’t you?” Qifrey nodded against his shoulder.
“Steady. Still beating. I’m not hurt.”
Qifrey responds quitely, "in the dream, there was a sigil and it was burned into you."
Olruggio guided Qifrey’s hand beneath the open collar of his nightshirt until his palm rested against bare skin. “See no sigil.”
Qifrey’s fingers spread over the warmth of his chest. His thumb trembled near Olruggio’s collarbone.
“No blood,” Olruggio continued. “No wound. Just me.”
Qifrey drew a ragged breath.
“Just you,” he repeated, as though trying to convince himself.
“That’s right.”
Another tear slipped down Qifrey’s cheek. Olruggio brushed it away with the side of his thumb, then another after it.
“You were leaving in my dream,” Qifrey whispered.
Olruggio frowned. “I’m not going anywhere in the real world.”
Qifrey didn't seem to hear him, “you looked at me like you were disappointed.”
Olly hums, "that does sound like a nightmare version of me.”
Qifrey gave a weak, broken laugh that quickly turned into another sob.
Olruggio held him through it. “I’m serious. I may look annoyed at you regularly, but I’m not disappointed in you.”
“I couldn’t save anyone.”
“You didn’t need to. There was no one there to save.”
“But what if one day-”
“No.” Olruggio drew back just enough to see his face. He kept both hands on Qifrey, one at his waist and one cupping his jaw. “Don’t let the dream drag you into what ifs. Stay here.”
Qifrey tried to lower his gaze, but Olruggio gently stroked his cheek.
“Here,” he repeated. “With me.”
Qifrey’s visible eye finally focused on him.
The sight of Olruggio all seemed to loosen something inside him. His mouth trembled. “You’re really all right?”
“I’m tired, and my shirt is all scrunched but I'll be alright."
Qifrey looked down at the fabric clenched in his fist. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.”
“I woke you.”
“You had a nightmare.”
“That does not make sleep less necessary.”
Olruggio sighed with exaggerated patience. “Qifrey.”
“Yes?”
“You are crying in my arms and still trying to worry about whether I’m getting enough rest.”
Qifrey swallowed. “It is an important concern.”
“Not the most important one at the moment.”
But suddenly the bedroom gave a faint scratch.
Both of them looked towards it.
There was another soft scraping sound, followed by a tiny thump.
Olruggio raised his eyebrows. “Apparently we woke someone else.”
He shifted carefully, keeping one arm around Qifrey while reaching towards the floor for his robe. Before he could stand, the door nudged open by the width of a paw.
Brushbuddy squeezed through the gap.
The little creature paused just inside the room, fur puffed up with sleep and concern. He tilted his head towards the bed and then bounded across the floor with surprising speed.
Qifrey’s face crumpled again.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Brushbuddy leapt onto the edge of the mattress, scrambled over the blankets and went directly to Qifrey. He rose on his back paws and pressed his front paws against Qifrey’s stomach, peering up into his tear-streaked face.
Qifrey reached for him with shaking hands.
Brushbuddy climbed into his lap and immediately began pushing himself beneath Qifrey’s arms until he was pressed tightly against his chest.
“He probably heard us,” Olruggio said softly.
“No I definitely frightened him with my screaming.”
"Don't be embarrassed Qifrey, you simply called out while coming out of a nightmare".
Brushbuddy rubbed his head beneath Qifrey’s chin.
Qifrey closed his eye and held him carefully. “I’m sorry, little one.”
Brushbuddy gave a determined wiggle, apparently rejecting the apology.
Brushbuddy bounced once in Qifrey’s arms.
Qifrey let out another faint laugh. It was unsteady, but it was real.
The worst of the panic had begun to recede, leaving him exhausted and cold. Now that his body was no longer fighting the nightmare, he started to shiver.
Olruggio noticed immediately. He drew Qifrey back against his chest and pulled the blankets higher around his shoulders. Brushbuddy remained tucked between them, his tiny warmth pressed against Qifrey’s ribs.
“Cold?” Olruggio asked.
“A little.”
“That happens after a small shock."
Qifrey leaned into him. “You sound like a healer.”
“I’ve had years of practice looking after one difficult witch.”
Qifrey’s lips twitched. “Only one?”
“The girls are easier," Olruggio says as a matter of fact.
But Qifrey disagrees, “that is clearly untrue.”
“None of them have ever tried to teach while running a fever and then claimed the room was merely warm.”
Qifrey looked faintly offended. “That happened once.”
“Three times," Olly counter argued.
“Two.”
“Okay go back to sleep.”
The words were gentle rather than dismissive.
Qifrey’s small smile faded as he glanced towards the dark room. “I don’t know if I can.”
Olruggio shifted until they were lying down again. He kept Qifrey facing him, one arm beneath his neck and the other wrapped around his waist. Brushbuddy curled in the small space between their chests, his fur tickling both of them.
“You don’t have to sleep immediately,” Olruggio said. “Just rest here.”
“What if the nightmare comes back?”
“Then I’ll wake you again.”
Qifrey searched his face. “And if I start crying?”
“I’ll hold you.”
“If I wake the entire atelier?”
“We’ll tell them a shelf fell.”
“A shelf?”
“You’re the storyteller. Come up with something better in the morning.”
Qifrey’s expression softened.
Olruggio brushed damp strands of hair from his forehead. “Nothing you do in your sleep will make me think less of you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?" Qifrey hesitated.
Olruggio’s thumb moved along his cheekbone. “You don’t have to be Master Qifrey in this bed. You don’t have to know what to do. You don’t have to protect anyone. You can just be you.”
Qifrey’s eye filled again, though the tears that slipped free were quieter now.
Olruggio leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“You can cry,” he murmured. “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
Qifrey pressed closer.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Olruggio continued rubbing slow circles against his back, counting breaths in a whisper whenever Qifrey’s breathing began to catch. Brushbuddy shifted from time to time, eventually settling with his tiny head beneath Qifrey’s chin.
The atelier remained quiet beyond the room.
No white chamber.
No breaking glass.
No voices demanding that Qifrey choose who to save.
Only the faint crackle of the dying fire downstairs, the softness of the blankets and Olruggio’s heartbeat beneath his palm.
Qifrey’s eyelids gradually lowered.
“Olly?” he whispered.
“I’m here.”
“You would tell me if I were failing them, wouldn’t you?”
Olruggio was silent for a moment, choosing his answer carefully. “I would tell you if you were making a mistake. But making mistakes is not the same as failing them.”
Qifrey’s fingers curled loosely against his chest. “The dream said I brought Coco to the brimmed caps.”
“The dream was cruel.”
“What if it was right?”
“It wasn’t.”
“You sound very certain.”
“I am.”
Qifrey opened his eye again.
Olruggio met his gaze without hesitation. “You gave Coco a home. You gave the girls somewhere safe to learn. You care so much that sometimes it eats you alive, but that doesn’t make you dangerous to them.”
Qifrey’s lower lip trembled.
Olruggio drew him closer. “You are loved here. By the girls, by that fluffy menace currently taking up half the bed, and by me.”
Brushbuddy stirred at the accusation but did not wake.
Qifrey’s voice was barely audible. “By you?”
Olruggio’s expression became impossibly tender. “Especially by me.”
The answer seemed to settle somewhere deep inside Qifrey. His body finally relaxed against Olruggio’s, the last of the tension slowly leaving his shoulders.
“I love you too,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“That sounded smug.”
“I’m trying to maintain my reputation.”
Qifrey breathed out a tired laugh.
Olruggio kissed him gently near the corner of his eye, careful of the damp skin and the edge of his eyepatch. “Close your eyes.”
Qifrey did.
“Coco is safe,” Olruggio murmured.
Qifrey’s breathing slowed.
“The girls are safe.”
His fingers loosened.
“Brushbuddy is safe.”
The little creature made a faint, sleepy sound between them.
“And you are safe,” Olruggio finished. “Right here with me.”
Qifrey drifted back to sleep with his forehead against Olruggio’s chest, one hand buried in Brushbuddy’s fur and the other held firmly in his boyfriend’s.
Olruggio remained awake a little longer.
He watched Qifrey’s face soften as sleep reclaimed him, listened until his breathing became deep and even, and kept his arms around him as though he could hold the nightmares outside by force alone.
Just before Olruggio closed his eyes, Brushbuddy lifted his head.
The two of them looked at one another over Qifrey’s sleeping form.
“He’s all right,” Olruggio whispered.
Brushbuddy studied him for another moment before resting his head against Qifrey again.
Olruggio smiled and pulled the blanket higher around all of them.
This time, when sleep returned to the room, it was quiet in the gentlest way.