Strega - the makings of a witch

Yes… and no. I’m not comfortable talking about myself if you please. Can you tell me about Raven… why are you two not together?

Oh, we are… together. We’re always together, just not always in physical presence.

Isn’t that the only way to be together, in presence?

My, no… young Luke. There are many ways to be together.

Can you enlighten me?

Gladly. Let me ask you Luke, do you ever dream?

Dream? Why of course, is there anyone who doesn’t?

You’d be surprised, not everyone dreams. Some have night terrors, others are burdened with troubles of the mind, others still view reels of everything that is wrong with their lives… however they do not all dream.

I’d supposed all those categories fell in together under the banner of “dreaming.”

I’ll make it clearer… a few nights back, anything peculiar happen in your dreams?

Well, now that you mention it, yes… I dreamt with a beautiful siren two nights ago, on the eve of my 16th birthday.

…And you met Raven that following morning, am I right?

Yes, certainly.

Did you notice nothing familiar about her when you did?

Why yes, she was only too familiar… I was overcome with the sensation that we’d met before, only we had not.

What then… what about her was familiar?

Her eyes. There was an unmistakable flicker in her eyes.

You mean like the one you saw in the eyes of the “Siren” from your dream?

Now… how could you possibly know that?

How could I not? You don’t quite know who we are, do you… I mean miself and Raven?

…You, Raven and Arristar?

No, Arristar’s not my daughter, Raven is my only child.

Lucas had to stop and gather his thoughts. Somehow the tone and mood of the conversation eerily resembled the one from his very dream… he was being mind and tongue tied again, against his will. Unable to entirely keep up nor even coherently respond to the turn the conversation was taking,

I really do beg your pardon, madame. What is it you’re getting at? How can you know about a dream I’ve told no one about?

It is a family heirloom Lucas. Raven and I are what in Cawdor are referred to as Incubi, or “dream architects,” to use layman’s terms.

Incubi? Is not an incubus an evil, night-faring spirit?

The word has been associated with many an evil fame and imputation over the ages, but I can assure you this is not rightly the case.

But properly defined, are not Incubi spirits that haunt in the night, at times physically attacking their victims… even engaging in sexual acts?

My Lucas (letting out a laugh), I’ve a copy of the Oxford dictionary as well. But let me mind you, you cannot always take definitions so literally. All words have their base meaning and roots, don’t you know.

Like the word, “incubus.” It comes from the proper noun “incubation,” loosely defined as “the maintenance of controlled environmental conditions, for the purpose of favoring growth and development.” Over time, and due to the rampant corruption of much of the Church’s antagonistic clergy, we’ve been rebranded as ghoulish rapists… sorceress spirits that ravage their victims in the night. As eggs are incubated by mother hen, they claim we “lay” over eggs until we hatch our evil schemes. This rebranding has been much too successful, and miself and those like me have seen ourselves in the necessity of retreating away from society. This reclusion has been going on for centuries, now.

…So wait, “dream architect,” can you elaborate on that?

It’s simple enough, for us – anyway. Only physical condition that must be met is for both the incubus and incubater to be asleep…

“Incubater,” by that do you mean the sleeping victim – or host, rather?

Yes, Luke. The incubater is the “host,” such as you were in the wee hours of Saturday morning.

…And you were the incubus?

No, I was not… Raven was.

Raven?

Yes dear, I’m afraid she’s been haunting you for some time now… years, in fact.

[what happens? find out here]