One Last Dream
Short story submission for a contest (WC: 3,460). If you enjoyed, please consider voting for the story here: https://ironage.media/prompt/the-sylph.html
The sylph watched over the sleeping boy, her translucent form flickering like a candle flame in the moonlit room. His breath rasped with each labored inhalation. His mother’s eyes, bloodshot from crying, followed every rise and fall of his chest, every trembled exhale. The sylph had witnessed this family’s sorrows, each child lost like another petal stripped from a beautiful flower.
And this child, this young man, would be the final one.
As Dartmoor’s Mistress of Winds, its people were her charge. She had witnessed this cycle of grief repeat time and time again throughout countless generations. Yet this particular child, with his fragile form and fiercely bright spirit, had touched something in the ancient creature's very essence. She couldn't, wouldn't allow him to be taken by this cruel disease.
She gave a somber smile, recalling her first encounter with little William. His crib rocked by a seemingly strange draft, a soft brush against his cheek.
In his early days, she was his imaginary friend. They giggled and played in those times of innocent joy. He suffered much in the years that followed. It broke her heart.
She came to favor William, guiding him with her Winds of Change. And she began to appear in his dreams during deepest sleep, when he was least likely to remember.
But he did remember. Such an unusual human.
Once, when he was the tender age of five, he asked a question mid-dream that caught her off-guard:
“Do you think Mollie and Tim and John and Peter are watching from up above?” His voice wavered with emotion, hinting at the heavy grief weighing on such a young soul.
“Oh William,” she sighed. “Yes I do. Though they are gone, they remain ever present in your memories. And their love will always be with you.”
“Like how you are? My friend that’s not really real, but still always there?” A tiny, wavering smile appeared on his lips, chasing away the shadows in his eyes.
The sylph chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “Just like that. Some things may change, but what truly matters…the bonds we hold dear, those can never fully disappear. Even as life’s winds change direction and separate us, our hearts remain bound.”
With no more brothers and sisters left, it was up to her to keep him company in the vast, empty mansion.
She had woven tales for him, her melodious voice a balm against the loneliness that seeped into the surroundings like a chilling mist. “Once, long ago...” she would begin, the story taking flight like a bird on the wind, carrying William off to realms of fantasy where his aches and sorrows could not touch. She wove dreams of magic and adventure, of dragons and wizards and princesses who danced under moons of gold. Anything to lighten his heart, if only for a night.
And, little by little, William began noticing the supernatural disturbances in his waking life; the way the flowers seemed to sway toward him in the garden. Or how easily he could make a kite soar - how it seemed to dance playfully in the wind. Sometimes, he could hear a whisper of laughter in the shimmering air, or even detect her perfume-like scent.
Seven more anguished years had passed, and he somehow held on.
As his condition worsened, William came to suspect the presence was more than just a figment of his overactive imagination. He would linger awake well into the witching hour, searching the rippling curtains and dancing drapes for shimmers and whispers, catching glimpses of what he swore were flowing hemlines and windblown tresses.
Through sketches and scrawlings, he gave her form, coloring in the vaguest details of a face that only his dreams had conjured.
And in a quiet moment of confession, he revealed his suspicions to his mother. She dismissed it outright, too depressed to entertain any flights of fancy. But his live-in nurse, having overheard their conversation, gave a playful wink. “No one could say for certain,” she said.
All sylphs were born with the first stirrings of wind during Creation itself. And in all that time, she could only recount a handful of children who were able to sense her like William could. He had named her “Cora” in his mind – No one had ever named her before. And in his most fevered dreams, he would call out for her.
“William,” she said, “Hold fast. There’s still so much for us to do.”
And though he could not see or hear her, he stirred in his sleep and smiled. The mere possibility of her existence seemed to comfort him.
Cora could offer some measure of protection, but she was no guardian angel - She’d seen too many fall to consumption these past fifty years and could do so little to help.
The boy's parents, also, had exhausted every possible remedy to save their last child. He was sent to an upper class sanatoria where doctors prescribed leeches to draw the evil humours from his body. He was given open air treatments while experimental tinctures and tonics were forced down his throat with the fervor of men possessed. And through it all, Cora used her gift of the wind to subtly influence their actions, hoping to steer them toward some glimmer of a cure.
In the end, she couldn't halt his decline. There were limits to the powers granted to her kind; there was only so much the Winds of Change could do.
She held his hand as he languished in the bedroom. She knew he would soon slip away.
Now, in this moonlit room where his mother watched over him with bleary eyes, Cora stood sentinel. She felt her very being tighten as a gossamer thread of golden light trailed in through the casement window, coiling toward the prone form.
“Not yet,” she breathed, a whispered plea. The wind in the room obeyed her will, and she directed the golden line to twist, diverting it up to dance upon the ceiling rather than seek the boy below.
With that move, she had broken one of the prime laws of the spirit realm and knew she would have to step down as Mistress of Winds. She would have to say goodbye to Dartmoor and leave the human world for good. But what’s done is done.
Cora bent close to William’s pillow, her diaphanous form glowing like starlight in the dark of his bedroom. The golden light streaming through the window beckoned insistently to his spirit. With a gentle sigh, Cora pressed her lips to his feverish brow to plant one final dream in his fading consciousness.
As her essence merged with his, William tumbled into a dream state unlike any other.
He stood alone in the middle of a barren field as the sky roiled with storm clouds. Thunder rumbled, but no rain fell.
A figure emerged from the swirling vapor – a young maiden in a gown of pristine white, her chestnut tresses piled high atop her head in a series of elegant curls and twists. Ribbons and pearl ornaments were woven throughout, catching the twilight as they did in her flowing skirt.
Even from afar, she was achingly familiar.
“Willie?” she called out, her tender voice sweet, yet melancholy. “Don’t you remember me?”
“Mollie?” he asked with bewilderment. It was his older sister. But still so young. Her beauty possessed an austere, untouchable quality - the way her likeness was captured in the painting over the old mantle.
“I’m here to help,” she replied with a cryptic smile. “I will be your guide. And Cora’s been waiting for you.”
William blinked. “You know about Cora?”
A perfumed breeze disturbed the back of his hair and his breath caught.
He turned slowly, lips parted. His eyes widened at the sudden shimmer, and the girl from his dreams, the girl who was once his imaginary friend, appeared as if floating down from the heavens, the clouds in the sky dispersing overhead giving way to a starlit sky. She was more substantial and luminous than he had ever seen before. So young and beautiful, a midnight blue dress contrasting against her pale azure skin and flowing, radiant white hair.
The rush of emotion overwhelmed. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a whisper of breath would come.
Cora gave a soft laugh and pressed a finger against his lips. “It’s true,” she said. “I’ve been with you all these years. I wasn’t just a figment of your imagination.”
He swallowed, his throat feeling dry. “I … always knew you were real, Cora. Knew it deep down in my soul.”
“I hope my presence helped make things easier for you. So you wouldn’t feel so lonely.”
“You helped me through the toughest times of my life,” he whispered. “I owe you my thanks.”
“And you, mine. You were always special to me, William.” She brushed aside his hair. “You helped me understand my purpose.”
He embraced Cora, his heart full of joyful relief at the knowledge his dear companion had existed all this time. Without hesitation she returned the gesture, two souls reunited. Eventually, they drew apart, and to his surprise, Cora wrestled a troubled expression.
“Cora...” he whispered, hardly daring to ask.
“I’m afraid I have something difficult I must tell you.” She gathered her trembling thoughts, progressing as if each word were a splinter to her heart. “I would give anything to shield you from the cruel truths of this world. But I mustn't hide it any longer.”
He tempered himself against the growing unease as the troubled look marred her radiant features. A heaviness settled in the pit of his stomach.
“My dear William, your life will soon reach its end.”
He stepped back. “What do you mean?”
“I’m sorry, I did everything I could,” she sniffled. “Even with all my powers, even with every last favor, I could not halt the march of death. And your time. It came too soon.”
“I’m really going to … die, then?” A tear fell from William’s cheek, his understanding dawning.
“I’m afraid so,” said Cora.
“You mean I’ll never see my mother again? My father?”
“Never say never, Willie,” said his sister, waving her hand. “You’ll be reunited with your family soon enough.”
“But what about you, Cora?”
“Well, you see, it's Mollie who will help guide you on your final path.”
“You mean … you’re not coming?”
“As much as I want to, I cannot walk beside you during your ascent. But my spirit will be with you every step of the way.”
His mind grappled with the enormity of all she had shared. He searched Cora’s face and saw only deep, abject sorrow in the otherworldly eyes gazing back at him - the look of someone who knew a painful duty was about to be carried out.
Mollie's face turned grim, regretful. “Cora broke a sacred rule to have these final moments with you, Willie. She did it out of love and devotion. But she had to sacrifice something dear.”
His mouth went dry. “What did she sacrifice?”
“Cora understood the consequences,” said Mollie, shuffling her feet, “that in breaking the Natural Law to prolong your time, she would be forced to relinquish her duties.” His dear sister continued with solemnity, “She must leave for the Aerie now, where sylphs go in the afterlife.”
William turned to Cora. “But why? Why make such a sacrifice for me?”
Cora gazed at him adoringly, her eyes brimming with sorrow. “Because I couldn’t bear to let you slip away without seeing you one last time. You affected me profoundly, William. And … I wanted to grant your dearest wish to see me, as I am.”
“It means so much,” said William, his body wracked by silent sobs.
She cupped her hand against his tearstained cheek. “Remember what I once told you? About the changing winds separating people?”
The words surfaced in his memory. Cherished words that remained with him all these years. “That our memories keep our hearts linked, no matter how far apart we may become.”
Cora nodded. “The connections those dear memories form are indestructible.”
The landscape flashed. Golden light suffused the field as a majestic stairway materialized from the ground, as if the sun were rising just for William’s sake. The stairs, impossibly tall and gleaming, seemed to pierce the sky.
“Come,” said Mollie, leading him toward the steps. “Beyond awaits.”
William gazed at the sight with reverence and awe. He reached out for Cora, but she squeezed his hand and reluctantly pulled away.
“Only a guide can climb these stairs with you, William. I’m afraid this is where we must part.”
William swallowed, not wanting this moment to end. “This is it, then, isn’t it? You’ve been there all along. Even before I can remember. I wish…I wish I could tell you so much more.”
“You don’t have to. Our hearts have walked this journey side by side since the day you were born,” said Cora softly, as if reading his thoughts. “But I would have waited an eternity just for this moment.”
Mollie suddenly paused and nodded her head, as if communicating with someone not present. She stood beside him now, her posture relaxed. She then looked to William and Cora, smiling knowingly before speaking. “Seems I was mistaken. You are being granted one last gift - a final act of mercy. A special dispensation.”
As they listened to Mollie’s words, the enormity of the cosmos seemed to hum within William's chest, filling him with wonder, reverence…and an inexplicable sense of belonging, of purpose.
“W-what do you mean?” stuttered Cora. “I, I don’t- I mean, sylphs can’t-”
“Nonsense, Cora. You were a dutiful Mistress of Winds for countless centuries. You deserve this.” She looked to William. “I’ll see you soon, then.” She gave a gentle smile and began to fade away.
“Wait,” said William, reaching out before his sister could vanish completely. But her fading form swirled between his fingers.
In the wake of Mollie’s departure, he noticed Cora had been weeping. Tears streamed down her translucent cheeks.
“I-I never knew a sylph could be a guide,” she whispered, bleary eyes fluttering skyward. “I always wondered what it would be like to ascend these stairs.”
“We’ll discover it together,” said William. “Come on. One last adventure.” He held out his hand.
She took it tenderly, guiding his palm to rest upon the smooth surface of the banister. He looked down, awestruck by the sacredness of the stairs before him.
With a deep breath, he leaned on the banister and pulled himself to the first riser, his bare feet meeting the warmth of the luminous steps. Cora walked steadily beside him, clasping his other hand as if he might lose balance and fall.
Each step glowed brighter as they progressed, and the golden radiance intensified like sunlight reflecting off the sea at midday. All the while, William felt his spirits lift.
The amber staircase shimmered as the night air thinned into wisps of morning mist. It was like the very world had awakened in celebration for his crossing from darkness to light, from mortality to immortality.
The amber stairs rose higher, unfurling long until vanishing into the luminous mists above. Cora smiled, a beatific expression that filled William with calm despite the tumult of emotions inside.
He gazed ahead, humbled as countless thousands of apparitions manifested along their path, reaching out in greeting. He could pick out only a few, some from his hometown, their faces shining with serenity. “Who are these people?” asked William.
“These are the many souls I've had the honor of guiding and comforting over the ages,” Cora beamed. “I'm sure even your greatest of great grandparents are here. Many are faces I haven’t seen for thousands of years, from before the region had ever been known as Dartmoor. They’ve gathered to welcome us, William.”
The figures bowed and parted in silence as the pair continued their ascent, revealing a great arch of light - a beacon that seemed to embody every hope and dream that had ever been and would ever be. Then a new set of figures stepped forth – a quartet of youthful souls, their faces forever etched in childhood innocence.
It was Tim, and Peter, and John; even Mollie was there – The siblings he’d loved deeply but lost too soon. Their eyes, so familiar yet ageless, gazed upon him with warm affection, welcoming their little brother to join them in eternity.
Cora smiled through misty tears from a measured distance, watching their heartfelt reunion. When William was ready, she led him up the final stretch of steps, slowing their pace so she could drink in every moment with her beloved charge.
The night sky transformed into a radiant meadow dappled with wildflowers and the portal’s light pulsed warmly, a radiant door she marveled at right alongside William.
“Is this Heaven?” he asked.
“I’ve never seen Heaven myself,” said Cora. “But I’ve heard that, beautiful as this is, Heaven is even moreso.”
“It feels too good to be true. Like I don’t deserve it.”
Cora placed a tender hand on his shoulder. “Pain and sorrow may have shaped you, but you never let it define you, William. Your suffering will soon end because your spirit remained pure and unbreakable. It survives the body, and your reward awaits through that gateway.”
The ethereal door drew nearer and the glorious beyond beckoned, inviting him to claim the rewards of an unshakable spirit, one that had faced trials, yet never faltered.
“Go now,” Cora urged. “Step into a new beginning where only joy awaits.”
But as they stepped into the arch's threshold, Cora felt her spirit start to lift, to break away. With an aching gasp, she watched herself separate, floating up and away from the stairs even as she clasped his hand, unable to follow through the doorway.
Tendrils of mist swirled as her corporeality began to unravel, dissolving back into the cosmic aether. With each passing moment, she grew more vague, her essence stretching thinner until only the faintest outline remained.
“My dearest William,” she called, her voice already echoing strangely from some far distant place, “please know that watching over you has been my greatest joy and privilege. May you find eternal happiness on the other side.”
With that, the golden light enveloped William, drawing him through as Cora fell away, watching as her charge slipped into paradise.
Her spirit felt both profound peace and bittersweet ache. She had been his guardian, his friend, and though it pained her to say farewell, she knew his suffering had ended.
The final petal had loosed from the flower. She could see it blowing in the wind, carried across the boundary like a leaf on a zephyr, to disappear into the light beyond.
As the radiance faded, Cora found herself standing at the bedside of a weeping woman - William's mother, now alone. In that moment, Cora saw a reflection of herself - another spirit, weary and worn by the weight of love lost and love held. She floated down beside the mother, laying a ghostly hand upon her shoulder.
With a soft breeze, the sylph gently turned the pages of a neglected tableside Bible, bringing the mother’s eye to land upon the following passage:
“I am the resurrection and the life; Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, shall live.”
The woman read the words and sobbed uncontrollably. But through it, she managed a smile. “He really made it, didn’t he?” she said aloud. “He really made it.”
Slowly, she relaxed, finding a modicum of solace in knowing her children were now at peace. And on shaky legs, she made her way across the room to open a dusty box, revealing a well-worn rosary.
In that moment, something shifted in the air - a subtle lightness, like the first warmth of spring sunshine after a harsh winter. The burden in Cora's own spirit lifted as she witnessed the woman finding solace.
The sylph smiled, unfurling her gossamer wings to blow a gentle kiss upon the grieving mother's forehead. The mother blinked with wonder, eyes trying to look beyond the cold hardness of reality for the first time in many years.
The earthbound mother raised a trembling hand in silent thanks, watching until Cora was nothing but a glimmer on the horizon.
As Dartmoor faded to the mists of memory below, Cora flew onward to an uncertain destiny - no longer Mistress of Winds, no longer bound to this realm, yet forever changed by her time among its people. She carried William's memory in her heart and the woman's faith in her wings, their souls now linked throughout eternity.
OH Nick this is so beautiful!