After his deliveries to the sisters, Aidan dreams. He both dreads and desires the night visitations. They make his world more beautiful and more diverse, but also more fragile and more human. He is less in control for those brief instances in the night, when eyes close and emotion takes command.
In the dark of his mind, he sees a brilliant scarlet. It is more vivid than fear, stronger than hope, truer than love. Only hunger could be as fierce as this color. Aidan’s soul, hitherto asleep awakes.
But then ash blows across his internal vision, dulling ruby with embers. And the voices call out, screaming in pain, moaning in sorrow. A man and a woman, unknown, yet remembered.
When Aidan wakes, two shades in the black and white etching of his life are filled, brilliant scarlet and dark red. One of his orchids gleams like a jewel out of the monotone window jungle. It is red as a heart, its fragrance soft and delicate as hope. It is the color of new blood.