In my dreams we did manage to reach the magical forest and find our way in past the impassable fog, but with no way back out until I can fix all of this.
My father once told us a story about the enchanted forest. That we'd built them a dam and we'd come together in peace. He'd been a child, but he said our people and the local people, the Northuldra, had fought, and his father was killed. Most of the Northuldra and some of our own soldiers have been trapped inside the fog for over thirty years. And they each believe the other started it.
But what startled me most was one of the Northuldra recognized our mother's shawl as belonging to one of their families.
Woke up to find my mother's shawl draped across me, and a book about magic she'd been translating propped up against the door.
I'm not sure how I feel about this. About any
of it. So many secrets, so many lies and hidden truths. I feel like that defines my entire dream life and it makes me question where I really belong.