Night Sweats.

[Lyland Rosier]

A bony, pale hand stretched toward Lyland's small frame as she shook. "Don't fret, dear. I won't hurt you much..." The old woman scared her greatly. She was ugly and reeked of decay, mold, and possibly stale urine. Her hand grasped Lyland by the shoulder and tugged at her, trying to get her out of the corner she was cowering in. The young girl struggled and cried out, but the old hag just pulled harder.

Suddenly the door behind the old woman burst open and the witch let go of Lyland who darted across the dirt floor and hid in the dark shadow of a grungy cloth-covered table, out of sight. A figure stepped through the doorway a moment later and observed the witch who had turned to greet them, acting nonchalant and forgetting the frightened child for a moment.

"Agatha," the figure said shortly in a gruff tone, giving the woman a nod.

"What can I do for you?" The hag's voice was not pleasant in the least. It was raspy and crackled and there was an underlying wheeze.

"I've come to collect the item."

"What item?" It was clearly an act. She knew exactly what he wanted, but she was playing dumb.

"Don't play stupid with me, hag. I want Vox Tribuo."

Agatha grimaced at the man as he stepped closer to her and drew his wand. "There's no need to threaten me."

"Then get me what I want."

The hag walked over to a shelf on her left and searched through a few wrapped objects before pulling one out and heading back to the man. She held it out to him and he observed it, but did not take it from her. Instead, when he was satisfied he nodded and turned to the doorway, motioning in another man who was standing in the antechamber to the witch's lair. This new man looked more gentle. He was older, with grey hair, small square glasses that sat on his nose, and a trim mustache. He was wringing his hands nervously and looking between the hag and the object in her hands.

"Transfigure it," The gruff man ordered.

"Into what?"

Leaning forward he whispered details into her ear though there was no one to overhear but the man who would see the results soon anyway. The witch made a strange face, but nodded and muttered words Lyland could neither make out nor understand. The object in her posession she placed on the floor and tapped twice. As she drew her wand up a swirl of white and gold light followed and slowly morphed. When it cleared a young boy stood where the object had been, looking around without emotion.

The old man looked astounded and shakily pulled out a change of clothes, looking to the gruff man who nodded. He helped the boy change and then the gruff man grabbed the boy, tossing a cloak over him, and ushered him and the old man out of the room without another word to Agatha.

For a few moments the disgusting woman still seemed to forget about Lyland, bustling around and picking up the wrappings for the item. Lyland was shaking again, confused about what had happened. What was the object? Who was the man? Suddenly Lyland was grabbed again; she hadn't even seen the witch approach. Screaming, she struggled and kicked, hitting at the witch with her free arm.

"Lemme loneee! Let gooo!" Tears streamed down her face as the hag pressed closer and breathed. Lyland nearly gagged from the putrid stench.

"Come here pretty child..."

"No!" Just as Lyland's heel came down on her foot the witch hit her hard with the back of her hand. Her head throbbed and she cried out louder as the woman continued to hit her. "Stop it!"

Sounds became muffled as blood rushed into her ears. Her head hurt. Her body hurt. She felt like she was going to wretch...

The door burst open again and a blur of dark red passed the corner of Lyland's vision before spells were flung and Lyland was picked up and carried out of the lair. She continued to struggle, unsure of what was going on. She writhed and twisted and then hit the ground with a thud.

Lyland's eyes snapped open and she groaned as she felt cold wood against her cheek. Her heart was hammering against her chest so hard it hurt and she could feel the distinct tracks of tears which were drying on her cheeks.

Pushing herself up, she looked up at her bed and then behind her at her legs which were tangled in her sheets. She was covered from head to toe in a sheen of sweat which was quickly cooling in all the areas exposed to the cool air of the dormitory. Shivering, she pushed some hair off her forehead and wrinkled her nose at the sticky, damp feeling of it, but at least the familiar sights and the feeling told her she was awake and safe now, thus she calmed down considerably.

She sat up slowly and pushed the sheets off of herself, standing and climbing back into bed. When she still wasn't asleep two hours later she sighed and got out of bed again. Throwing on some sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt she headed out of her dorm and out of the castle all together. For a while she wandered aimlessly, but eventually she found herself at the shore of the lake and decided it was as good a place as any to settle down and relax.

The blonde girl plopped down on the sand and ran her fingers through her hair as she stared blindly at the rippling surface of the water. Tonight's nightmare had been more detailed, it had gone further. It wasn't an overly frightful encounter now, but as a child it had traumatized her and when she had the nightmares they affected her as if she was still six years old. And they were getting worse. Not only were they more detailed, but they were more frequent. She had had one almost every night since the beginning of term and she just wanted them to stop.

"Just go away..." She mumbled to no one in particular. It was more of an order to the dreams than anything. She was so tired; she just wanted sleep - sweet, dreamless sleep - that she felt she might never get again at this rate. Why were these things plaguing her now? It had been so many years and they were irrelevant now. She was safe and alive and those were years she barely remembered except for the nightmare.

So why... why did she keep seeing that scene every time she closed her eyes?