A string of small chirps interrupted her peaceful, deserved slumber, followed by something tugging at a strand of her hair.

What in turn was followed by a shriek as she slapped the wannabird away. And, a few seconds later, followed by her having a realization, eyes snapping open.

There were no birds at Cardomos’ pocket dimension.

Sitting up, Velvet looked around. She was in a forest, not the grey, almost monochrome one of the Death Realm, but in a colorful, filled with mixed, contrasting, moving shades, their edges blurred, interconnected, which didn’t allow any of the trees to show any sort of identifying detail.

Velvet rubbed her eyes, but the landscape didn't get any less confusing, the colors blending between each other, almost becoming… something, but not quite.

Even the annoying birds suffered from the same issue, their colors and shapes not matching any species she had knowledge of. They looked like a mix between a hummingbird and a secretary bird, wings flapping at top speed with extremely long legs and a feathery crest.

Reaching for the knowledge obtained from Hyde in regards to magical beasts, she quickly found a match.

Nocnitsa, a small type of nightmare spirit that drained people’s energy while they rested. Pretty weak, not really a problem for a mage, mostly a pain for humans, and not even then, preying more on children than adults.

And this group had golden rings on their legs with some kind of encryption she couldn’t decipher, but whose meaning wasn’t lost on her.

They had an owner, not being wild monsters. So not ripping them from their feathers. A shame, she wouldn’t say no to easy materials.

But, ignoring the curious gaze of the nocnitsa, who no longer approached her, their presence was enough of a clue to identify her location.

Right, I’m dreaming.

Since from the start she had spent all her dreams inside the Chained man’s, with the exception of the time Lothrigern took her into another, one crafted by Him exclusively for her. Which meant she had never experienced a real mage’s dream.

Even when mages from the Sloth Paradigm and its affiliated Paradigms were the ones who could squeeze the Dream Realm’s true potential, that didn’t exempt the others from accessing it.

The Dream Realm, or, the Collective Unconsciousness, the Land of Imagination and Wonderland.

Those were some of the names used to refer to it. But, since she found Dream Realm to sound easier, and match with how she called the other realms, that was the name she went with.

Deep down, all Paradigms originated from the depths of the Primeval Sea, and thus, were born from the same source. That’s why, even if weakened, she could use spells from other Paradigms.

“Hmm…” If it had been any other time, she would have been much more enthusiastic about exploring it, but, moving safely in the Dream Realm required using her Esca, which meant accumulating miasma.

And, since she had no previous experience, nor a Paradigm adept to exploring dreams, her options were reduced to some surface beginner stuff.

“...”

No, she couldn’t rip the nocnitsa’s feathers. Not without knowing who the mage owning them was, at least.

Pick fights, as many as possible, but not all of them was her motto for a reason. And she liked to pick the fights she knew she could win, which in this case she had no way to know.

Velvet pushed herself off the fake, painting-like ground. “I expected the Dream Realm to be stranger.” Of course, since dreams were mostly based on reality, and the Dream Real was based on those collective dreams, it mostly shared an uncanny resemblance to the Material Realm, even when she could see isolated zones inspired in anothers.

“You’re the strangest of them all.” A voice said, close to her and up. “At least while the clock is cold. The thing about strangers is that the more ticks you spend with them, the less stranger they remain.”

“A transformation where the stranger does not change, but the eye of the beholder does.” Velvet finished, smiling and looking up, greeting her own stranger, while readying an explosive charm behind her back.

Dying was the fastest way to end a dream, after all. She wouldn’t try to fight a sloth mage on their home turf, even less after facing two Deriliams. At the first sign of things going awry, Velvet would explode herself.

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Now, about the mage, who had chosen to surprise her by sitting on the tree’s branches above her, even when in reality she would’ve been able to feel their presence way before then, and yet, since dreams had no concept of physics, things that should make noise didn’t.

It was a little girl, around twelve or so, wearing a frilly blue dress with striped socks, with long grey hair hanging down.

Grey hair and blue eyes… Charlampian. Just like her… and the Grahams, the Ropertti and others. Not exactly a lucky encounter.

The girl chuckled, hands clasped behind her back as she leaned back, flipping her body upside down, dangling from the tree like dried sausage only with her legs, her skirt floating, gravity being another thing not working correctly here. “Are you lost? You seem loster than a river lobster!”

“You mean a crayfish?”

“Crazy fish? Were they diagnosed?”

Ignoring her, Velvet continued. “Does it matter if I get lost in the Dream Realm? As long as I wake up, I know where I am.”

“Ah yes, I suppose sssoooo.” She dragged the word, putting one hand over her mouth, as if she was pondering. “Yet you aren’t from here, are you? A ‘Jub leaving her ‘Wocky’s side, missing the light.”

“Missing the lack of company.” Velvet said. “A company completely coincidental, am I wrong?”

“There’s plenty of coincidences that are coincidences and coincidences that aren’t coincidences. And coincidences that can become non-coinci-”

“I doubt it’s a coincidence.”

“Interrupting people is very rude.”

There was no way no one was behind her encounter with the girl. Unfortunately, unless she used her magic or introduced herself, Velvet had no idea of who she was, and even less of who she worked with or for.

“Answering questions by derailing a conversation isn’t polite either.” Velvet retorted, taking a step away from her. “Now, if you excuse me, I’ll be on my merry, aimless way.”

“Ah, don’t take flight so soon, little birdie!” The girl said, jumping… falling down, or, at least, letting go of the branch as if she slipped, but turning down in the air in a less than natural way, landing safely.

Would a concussion from that height kill you? No, it’s not that high… but it would explain some of her behavior. “Why? Did you perhaps forget to tell me something?”

“Words and puzzles aren’t as fun if you get all the pieces at once.”

“You do get all the pieces in a puzzle though. The difficulty is in arranging the-”

“Shh, he’s listening.” Raising her index finger to her mouth, the girl interrupted her.

Not asking who or where, Velvet fell silent, eyes never leaving the girl.

I don’t hear steps, but… yes, I can feel a faint, increasing presence.

“Noisy kids don’t get to steal the show.” The girl said, turning around and taking a step away from her. “So let’s cover the stage for a short, revealing intermission.” She snapped her fingers, and instantly, a red, thick curtain appeared between them, making Velvet’s feeling of being observed disappear completely.

The curtain circled around her, apparently aimless, but, for someone like Velvet who liked annoying pranks, the movements were very similar to hers when she hid a surprise under a cloth, moving it away from the children’s hands and eyes.

Left, right, up, down… it took less than half a minute for the “snooper” to give up, not really trying anything else.

Another sloth mage, I’m sure of that.

“Closed curtains for the curious. Hello, spy.”

A tired, exasperated sigh was the first thing coming from him. “Frore, who did you pick up now?”

Oh, she knew that sigh and that voice, it was from the official mage who stopped the novice’s fight on the airship back then, when she was about to kill Ethra. Velvet was correct then, he was a sloth mage.

“A non-migratory bird who went for a stroll.”

“I doubt they have feathers.”

“Right. If it’s featherless and it’s biped, it’s a man.” Frore said, hers a name she had heard from Alrai.

Frore Tilleu was the whole name, in fact. Unless both of them were lying.

“Hey,” The one called spy by Frore said, speaking towards Velvet with a tone of awkward discomfort. “Just so you know, this little kid is a seventy year old woman. And I don’t mean that she’s older than she looks, no. Granny in reality.”

… Yeah, she had been aware of that the moment he said her name. Frore Tilleu was a family head, which meant two open Escas, and that took at least thirty years to reach.

And, even if some mages did look younger than they were, she would have remembered seeing a little girl at the Selector’s seats back then. And she didn’t.

“Old might be the body, but young is the mind and spirit!” Frore retorted.

“Huh, normally that information makes them wake up from the fright.” He continued. “So it’s someone that already knows and remembers your name and position, as obscure and unwillingly hidden those are. An information mage, perhaps?”

Urk. Now that almost frightened her enough to trigger her awakening. Underestimating another mage’s intelligence always ended badly.

“Taller here than in reality, the busybody. Are those leg bones springs?”

You really know how to push curiosity far, Frore, but I don’t plan on waiting for you to give me all the pieces of this particular puzzle.

Their back and forth soon became of zero interest for Velvet, who remained silent, decoding the message Frore was spelling under the first letter of each one her “intermission” sentences, before stopping, triggering the exploding charms prematurely, the detonation ending her dream.

She wasn’t interested in picking back that particular fight. Nor dumb enough to wait for all the pieces to be set down on the proverbial table.

For now, at least. Vindictive pettiness wasn’t her middle name for nothing, after all.