The shock on Elara and Paolo’s faces almost matches the scared, confused look on Naomi’s.“Taken?” Paolo asks. “What makes you say that? She often goes into the woods to gather plants for her medicines.”“No,” I respond, catching my breath. “Her bedroom was a mess, and the smell of Listwort was overpowering. She’s been taken, just like the others.”

Paolo puts his head in his hands, while Elara looks on with a stunned expression.

“I like Vita,” says a quiet voice. “She made my brother's bad leg better.”

I look at the young girl for the first time, realising that my earlier focus had been entirely on the adults in the room—I’d hardly noticed her.

“Hello…” I look to Elara.

“Naomi,” she informs me.

“So, Naomi, I agree. Vita is a nice lady.”

“I believe Naomi to be a Dreamwalker,” Elara tells me. “So, we came to talk to Paolo about it.”

‘Dreamwalker, what the hell is a dreamwalker?’

Paolo looks up from his hands at the mention of his name and nods.

‘He looks totally wiped out.’ I shake my head in empathy. ‘Can’t say I blame him, poor man. One thing after another’

“In fact, it may be—if we’re lucky,” she crosses her fingers, glancing at the girl, “Naomi might be able to help us figure things out a bit.”

At that, the young girl looks first puzzled, then a bit scared. I can see it in her eyes—the thought of what could she possibly do to find Vita is very clearly obvious on her face.

“Me?” she asks in a little voice tinged with anxiety. “But I’m not allowed outside the village gates.”

I watch as Elara takes her hand gently and looks into her eyes, her whole manner calming and tender.

“It’s okay, Naomi, you won’t have to go anywhere.” She waves her hand to indicate the room. “You can look for them from right here. Shall I try and show you how?”

Naomi nods slowly.

“Some of us elves can do magic.” She begins as Paolo and I watch on quietly.

“I can do some small magics. Want to see?”

Naomi nods again, this time far more enthusiastically.

Elara has a quick look around the room and spots a rather sorry-looking potted plant in the corner.

“My magic involves plants,” she tells the girl, pointing to the specimen she has in mind.

“Paolo, you need to look after your plants better,” she says, pointing at the plant.

As she does, I feel the strange warm tingling feeling again, the same as back in the woods. Magic!

Across the room, the plant starts to perk up, the wilting leaves gain new vigour and soon they positively glow with a mesmerising green vitality. From the centre of the plant, a stem emerges, and before our eyes, a bud grows and then opens into a glorious blue-tinged flower.

‘Now there’s something you don’t see every day, Del.’ Absorbed in the spectacle, I glance around. Naomi’s face, mouth wide open, is a picture of wonder. A glance shows me Paolo’s is the same. To be fair, I expect I look pretty similar.

“Magic,” whispers a tiny voice in awe.

“Yes, Naomi,” Elara agrees. “Magic, and you can do magic too. Would you like me to teach you?”

Naomi gives Elara a look that runs from awe to disbelief to amazement to pure elation. With a sudden squeal of joyous enthusiasm, she leaps into Elara’s lap and wraps her in a big hug.

“You can teach me magic? Really? Can you, can you? Yes! Oh yes! Can I make flowers? Can I zap people? How do I do it? Tell me, tell me please, please pleeeease.”

The rush of words trips off her tongue almost too fast to follow; we have one very excited girl on our hands.

‘Well, Elara does. This isn’t my ballgame.’

Elara is giggling at the babble of words, hugs, and soon kisses being bestowed upon her by the excited girl. After a bit, she manages to peel Naomi a little off her so she can look directly at her. Her face is serious, and Naomi, panting slightly, begins to calm down.

“All right, Naomi, I can teach you some magic—not like mine, though. Yours is a different magic to mine.” She pats the seat beside her, and Naomi climbs off her lap and sits on it. With a face now becoming focused in concentration, she listes intently to Elara’s words. I can easily see the change in the young child’s manner as she becomes all serious and attentive.

‘Wish I could get into learning mode as fast as a kid.’ I sit quietly to watch. ‘Maybe I might learn new tricks easier.’

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

I see Paolo’s rapt attention switch from staring at his plant to focusing on Elara and Naomi.

“Magic,” she begins, “is a rare thing that not everyone has. Some races have more, some less. Elves tend to have a lot of magic, and ours focuses mostly on nature and natural energy. Gnomes have a lot of magical people among them; they have strength in making things work better. Dwarves very rarely have magic, but when they do, it tends to be very powerful, very wild, and hard to predict. Now, you are not an elf, or a gnome or a dwarf.” Naomi wrinkles her nose at the thought. “You are human, and humans who have magic, well, they can have all sorts of magic. Just like you.”

“I have magic?” Naomi whispers the question.

“Yes, I think you do.” Elara holds her hand gently. “Do you remember when I said I thought you were a Dreamwalker? Well, dreamwalking is a very special kind of magic.”

I am absorbed, as totally engrossed in this conversation, this lesson, as Naomi and Paolo. ‘Might I learn more about magic from this?’

“Am I a Dreamwalker?” she asks. “Do you really think so?”

“I do,” Elara smiles in reply. “Those times you remembered your dreams—the fox, the other things that happened, the Night Man? Well, that sounds very like dreamwalking.”

Naomi’s face once again assumes the shocked ‘Oh’ of wonder.

“So I am going to try and help you with it. Would you like that?”

Naomi just nods vigorously.

“Magic,” Elara begins, tapping her chest, then forming a fist just below her breasts, “comes from here.” She taps her head. “And is controlled here.”

Naomi’s look of rapt concentration is completely fixed on Elara.

“Now, at the moment, you have magic here.” She gently taps the girl's chest, and Naomi looks down at the area, a central spot just below her heart; then, touching her head, adds, “but no control here.”

Elara takes a breath, thinks for a moment, and I notice that I am absently rubbing my own chest, just above my diaphragm. ‘If only… Maybe one day, you daft sod.’

“Now, because you haven’t yet learned control, your dreamwalking just happens when it wants to, and goes where it likes. Do you see what I mean?” She cocks her head slightly at the child inquisitively.

Naomi seems to concentrate. “I think so,” she answers. “That’s why I have dreams?” The statement more a question.

“I believe it is,” says Elara with a big smile. “Now to control—this is the hard part.” She frowns. “Well, hard at first. When I first learned to control plants, it was hard, but the more I do it, the easier it gets.”

“But how can I control a dream?” Naomi asks, puzzled. “I’m asleep.”

‘Fair point.’ This whole subject has me enthralled.

“Well, that’s why you control when not really asleep,” Elara answers. “You know when you lie down and close your eyes to rest but not sleep?”

Naomi nods and adds, “Nap time. I don’t always want to sleep, but I pretend so Mummy won't get cross.”

“Exactly.” Elara agrees happily. “Well, we are going to have a nap time now. Only this time, when you close your eyes, I want you to think about your breathing. As you breathe in slowly, picture in your mind one of the people who have gone missing. Then breathe out slowly.”

Naomi, paying close attention, nods her head slowly. Closing her eyes, I can see her taking in long, deep breaths as if practising.

“Next breath, think of another one; focus most on the people who you know best and like the most.”

Elara pauses to be sure that the young girl is following along. Naomi opens her eyes and nods, understanding.

“As you concentrate on your breathing and the people, you may find yourself floating or flying. Don’t fight it; let it happen. It can be fun when you get used to it.”

Naomi is totally transfixed.

“Now, when you are flying like this, you will find that you can still talk; just stay in the flying and speak of what you see.” This, says Elara with conviction, “is what controlled dreamwalking is all about.”

“Can I try it?” Naomi asks softly.

“One last thing to learn first,” Elara says. “When you sleep and dream, you wake up in the morning like always. When you do a nap-time dreamwalk, you need to have a signal to fly back to yourself and leave the dream.” She looks at Naomi to be sure she hasn’t lost her. Seeing the girl's understanding, she continues.

“Now, the signal or trigger can be anything—you could have a word you say or clap your hand in your dream, or click your fingers. As long as you choose your own trigger before you start, it will work.”

“What happens if I don’t have a trigger?” she asks with a slightly worried look.

“Then you will just fall asleep and wake up after a long sleep like you do at night.”

This seems to relieve the worry that had begun to form in her—and, to be fair, in me at the girl's question.

Paolo speaks up at that point.

“Is she in any danger doing this dreamwalking thing?”

“No, not really,” replies Elara. “She will be walking the Astral, and while it can be a bit scary sometimes, it’s no more harmful than a dream.”

‘Nightmares can be pretty damn scary places,’ I can’t help adding to myself. ‘Are we sending a child into one?’

“Can I try it now?” Naomi asks. “I’m not scared—not if you hold my hand.”

Elara gives one of her big warming smiles.

“Of course you can hold my hand, and we can try it now if you like.”

Paolo and I do a quick bit of furniture arranging, moving a chair for Elara to sit next to the chaise longue in the corner and adding another couple for ourselves to observe from.

Adding a comfy cushion for Naomi's head, she jumps up onto the seat and lies down.

“Now,” says Elara, sitting next to her and holding her hand. “As you start, you may well feel a build-up of pressure here,” she taps the girl's chest. “That is your mana pool, and it's what lets you dreamwalk. The pressure is normal with all magics, and when you feel it, just let it flow up to here.” Tapping the side of Naomi’s head, “And into the pictures you are imagining of the people who are missing. That’s how you fly.”

She looks directly at Naomi. “Also—and this is important—magic is not easy, so don’t worry if you don’t manage it straight away. It may take several tries before you learn control.”

I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I could almost feel a collective holding of breath as we awaited something to happen.

‘If she can manage at all, it’s a big ask of a young child.’ I feel yet another pang of guilt, placing so much on such tiny shoulders.

With a look of determination on her little face and brow furrowed, Naomi gives a little wriggle to get comfortable and, tightly gripping Elara’s hand, closes her eyes.