She stepped across the strangely warm wooden floor, towards the window, where the moon cast a sparkling, silvery light into the room. Outside, there rang a perpetual, distant sound: a constant echo, reminiscent of bells.
She brushed her hand over the drapes, and parted them.
Slowly, her hand went to her cheek in order to pinch herself. She wanted to be absolutely certain that she had not fallen asleep out of exhaustion from crying, and she was not still in her room back home.
But the pinch hurt. Here, there were no storms. Here, there was only the night's calm and peace: a peace that was slowly erasing those horrible memories, and replacing them with serenity and comfort.
There were tree branches, as far as the eye could see. Above, through a dense forest canopy, the moon shone in a clear sky, flecked with the brilliance of innumerable stars. The surrounding branches and leaves swayed in the gentle wind, releasing an endless shower of the shimmering petal-like sparkles.
"By the maker!" Mericlou whispered lowly, as if reverencing some holy thing.
"If you're talking about the room," A voice said from behind, "then I am the maker, in that case."
Mericlou gave a start, throwing the muslin drapes back as she spun around.
She had heard no doors open or shut, but Aldrec was there, standing in the center of the room, a beaming smile upon his face.
"Do you feel better now, Tulyr?" He said.
Mericlou found that she had to struggle to recall the events that led up to her current situation, as if the peacefulness of this place had wiped them from her mind. Slowly, it all came back: her fear in her own home, the imse ether, and her walking through a mirror into Aldrec's waiting arms. And then she stopped, and as if realizing her safety for the first time, absorbed and relished the fact that the fear was no longer there. "Yes. Much better."
"I'm glad to hear it," Aldrec said. "Tell me, why were you crying so much when you arrived?"
"It was horrible," Mericlou answered, and proceeded to explain the events after she had returned home. She felt a strange objectivity in the recollection, as if it had all happened to someone else entirely.
" …And by the time you called to me, I was just hoping that it would end, or that I could at least sleep, and hope for it to be over in the morning," she said in conclusion. A single tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't know why someone did that to me … all those horrible, never-ending calls."