On the horizon, streaks of rosy pink and orange were beginning to stretch across the sky. Lazy clouds dotted the first light of the grey morning, sending a ghostly pattern of dappled shadows across the earth. Two bright blue eyes rolled up towards the sky, searching desperately for the first sight of the sun. Surely the sun would come and chase her darkness away.

Piper blew out a heavy breath and shut her eyes, letting her head roll against the chain of the swing she was slumped in. Her old play set had been repainted for her sister, though the toddler wouldn't be old enough to use it for a while yet, and faint scent of paint still lingered in the air.

A sliver of light shifted slowly across her once sun-kissed cheek, warming the faded skin and filling her with just enough hope that she finally opened her eyes. Her vibrant, blue hair was in disarray, part of it still matted to her forehead and part of it dried and sticking out awkwardly at odd angles. It didn't matter though. As she curled her arms into the safety of her over-sized hoodie, she didn't care about anything but the warmth and promise of the new day.

Ever since Tyche had entered her life, Piper had been getting less and less sleep for fear of her amplified night terrors. What had once been troubling nightmares had turned into half memories so vivid they had her questioning her own mind. But none of it made sense, not a bit of it. She didn't know that boy, she had never been in those places, she couldn't mourn the loss of something that had never been. Right? Right..

Piper brought up one leg and wrapped both arms around her knee, leaning her cheek into the fabric of her leggings and rocking precariously in her swinging perch. The sun poured more and more light onto her and she let her eyes drift shut in peaceful silence, letting the light fill her and chase away the ghosts of her memory. She had never asked to be Tyche, she didn't know how to save the world or find a lost princess. She couldn't hurt people, she couldn't do this at all.

After a long while, she finally opened her eyes to the new, gray morning and pushed herself back to her feet. One timid hand reached up to stroke the length of her frizzy, displaced braid. Her hair had grown enough (mostly from her lack of attention) to pull it away from her face. That was useful on the nights she woke in cold sweats.

She pulled her sweater tighter around her body and turned to look up at her childhood house. Her mother would be up soon for her daily morning yoga and, as much as sleep terrified her, the idea of putting on a happy face for her mother just seemed much too hard. So, with a hesitance in her step, she drug herself sluggishly back into the house and started up the stairs to her bedroom. She saw the sunlight spilling through her open door and onto the dark wood of the hallway and when she rounded the corner into her room, she was drawn in by the warmth.

She simply kicked off her shoes and crawled into the fluffy sheets, drawing them up around her like a cocoon. Sleep didn't come until long after her mother's bare footsteps were on the stairs, but it still came. It wasn't deep, and it was fragile, but it was empty of the stuff of her nightmares.

(601 words)