It only took an instant for her to comply. No sooner had the heavy fringe of her lashes brushed her soft cheeks did the world around them dissolve into blinding white shimmers. The brightness faded and they were back at the cottage.
“Was this our home?” she whispered, reaching out for one of the nodding yellow blossoms.
“Yes,” Flazie gestured toward the cottage, “This was your dream. A tiny cottage in a meadow.” He left out the fact she was a virtual prisoner who could go no further than the boundaries of the meadow. “I gave this to you.”
“As a prison.”
Flazie gaped. The boy stood, solid and unwavering, blocking the doorway to the cottage.
“This whole meadow is warded, Sophary,” the boy walked over to them. “The longer you stay here, the harder it will be to leave.”
“How did you get here?’ Flazie demanded. “This is not your haven, you are not welcomed here.”
“Havens are not always places,” the boy quipped, then flushed. “This isn’t a real memory, love. “
“What is it?” she asked, plucking a flower and inhaling the scent. Flazie a smile. Those same flowers trapped her here the first time.
“It’s a trap,” the boy said as if reading Flazie’s mind, “ Take us back.”
“Get out,” Flazie commanded. The wards were cast in his favor and the boy had no real power here. “Leave us be.”
“No!” she cried and grabbed the boy’s hand. “He can stay.”
“He means to keep us apart,” Flazie tried to hide his rage behind a veil of sadness.
She paused then looked back and forth between them.
“I want to go inside.”
The boy gasped, but said nothing.
Flazie cracked a wide smile.
“Of course my dear,” he bowed slightly. “Welcome to our home.”