Free indigo court 05.5 - night shivers by Yasmine Galenorn

fixed. In fact, the words this world were a misnomer. There were worlds within worlds all over the planet. Layers of existence overlapped—hell, in some places they coexisted—just in different planes. One step to the left or right could shift one’s surroundings by a quantum leap. It had crossed my mind that—if we were able to see every plane of existence at once—we’d go mad from all the conflicting visuals. It would be as if Escher had taken a paintbrush to the world.
    And so, eating our sandwiches and pastries as we walked, we began the journey into the depths of the Barrow. No one was allowed into these parts of the Court without being royalty, upper-tier guard, or personally summoned by the shamans. We were headed to a center of the Court—its very heart and soul, kept and watched over by the shamans.
    The shamans made life in this realm possible. Even the Winter Fae would not be able to exist here without the shamans dreaming it into a place where life could flourish. Without their magic, the cold would freeze every drop of blood in the body and the wanderer would stand as a statue, forever encased in the snow and ice.
    The tunnel leading to their abode twisted and turned, soon morphing into a tunnel of ice that stretched out from the edge of the Barrow, traversing beneath the ice fields that made up our lands. The walls and floor of the passage shimmered with sparks of light—soft white and gentle violet. The first time I had journeyed to the shamans, I thought I might be walking forever, the passage going on and on, seemingly endless.
    We quieted down as the air grew thick and chill. Noise seemed to shatter it, echoing on for miles. Even Ulean remained silent, although I knew she was with me. As we journeyed along through the corridor, I sank into my thoughts.
    This is my life. This is what it will be for centuries to come.
    The thought sprung into my mind, stark and terrifying. Yet, somehow, it also comforted me. So many people didn’t know what they were meant to do. The vast majority lived their lives in a blur—trudging through their days, hating their jobs, wasting time without really thinking about how short life could be. There was an advantage to living consciously. No matter what one’s life span was, the ability to make a choice about how we spent our time…that was a great gift, and one that only we could give to ourselves. Even if it was only an hour a day, claiming control over what we did with that hour—it made a difference.
    Check turned around. “We’re near the barrier, Your Majesty.”
    I blinked and looked around. The color of the ice had shifted from blue to purple. Purple was the color of the shamans’ magic.
    Peering around him, I could see a gauzy veil of energy completely shrouding the end of the corridor. As we entered the cloud of energy, a mass of sparks sizzled, darting across my body. The last time I had ventured here, I had closed my eyes out of fear. Now, I knew what to expect. But the jolts of energy were still disrupting.
    If we had been enemies? Those jolts would have been deadly.
    We passed through the veil into a chamber completely formed of ice. Even the furniture was carved from chunks of the glistening frozen water. Shadows moved along the walls—the shamans were watching us. Even within this altered dimension, they lived still another step out. As we took our place around a circular table, a shadow began to emerge from the ice.
    Thorn, the Speaker for the council of shamans.
    He was a short man, wearing leather pants and a fur cloak. His chest—muscled and gleaming—was bare, and his long dark hair was braided with beads and feathers.
    “Your Majesty, you grace us with your presence.” The words were proper, but the energy behind them was matter-of-fact. The shamans did not engage in chitchat.
    “We have questions. There are two situations we are facing, and I have no idea what to make of them.” I leaned toward him. “We need your counsel.”
    Thorn