> Ramesonho

>

> Noun

>

> Translation: Dreamer (literal meaning, the Dreamer King)

>

> Definition: The Ramesonho are renowned for their ability to traverse vast expanses of space, realms, and the very fabric of time as if strolling from one dream to the next. They embody the convergence of the waking world and the boundless landscapes of the subconscious, defying physical constraints. In other words they can see and traverse the Veilla. The spirit most closely allied with the Ramesonho is known as the "Dreamer Mouse," a Spirit believed to accompany and aid them on their interdimensional voyages.

The second floor of Whitestone Palace housed a truly extraordinary architectural marvel – an immense, open area dominated by what appeared to be a simple pool. Yet, it was not.

From this tranquil water source, a complex network of aqueducts radiated outwards like veins, intricately traversing the floor, snaking through the palace walls, and even delving deep into the subterranean layers beneath the palace.

This central point was much more than a mere feat of natural engineering brilliance; it was the heart of a much larger, arcane reality. It served as the focal point for all ley lines, known as an Ormsaat – these were invisible currents of magical energy that wove through the land, beneath the sea, and above in the sky, connecting the palace to a vast, unseen network of power that encompassed the world itself.

At the core of this nexus of power, every Dame who had ever reigned wielded their dominion over the world. From this Ormsaat, the heart of the palace, they could connect with the throbbing lattice of ley lines. Here, they harnessed and directed the flow of this raw energy, extending their reach and moulding the very essence of the realm to their will.

As Fiona carefully moved through the icy water that chilled at her very touch, her thoughts were consumed by the riddle of activating the Ormsaat. Her gaze drifted over the lifeless forms scattered across the marble floor. Servants and guards lay strewn about like statues of shattered glass, their blue blood seeping out onto the marble and mingling with the near-frozen waters. Blue ice crystals formed where their blood met the surface, creating a hauntingly soothing sound as they tinkled gently into the water.

Fiona felt an unsettling absence of power. There was no magical pulse, no arcane energy responding to her presence. She was left to meander through the cold, still waters, her mind working feverishly to decipher the secret of unlocking the node and claiming her ultimate authority.

A fleeting pang of regret brushed her thoughts, wishing she had spared a servant or two who might have unravelled the mysteries of the Ormsaat for her. Yet, her pride swiftly quashed this notion, unwilling to betray any sign of weakness or uncertainty.

Her contemplation was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and the sound of a cane. Fiona's attention snapped to the figure emerging into the room. A man, adorned in a long coat and strange attire that radiated defiance, strode towards her.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear about the requirement of white cloaks," she remarked, her voice tinged with annoyance at this unexpected interruption.

"Clarity doesn't necessarily equate to agreement," came the reply in a deep, unfamiliar voice. The man holding a strange metallic cane, sporting short red hair and an eyepatch, approached the edge of the pool with a confidence that suggested he knew more than he let on as if he were privy to some secret advantage in this unfolding game.

"Are you daring to defy my authority?" Fiona demanded, her tone sharp.

The stranger cast his gaze over the scene, his interest apparently fixated on the pool's dormant state rather than the gruesome scenery around it, almost as if he were used to it.

"There's no challenge to be had against an authority that has yet to assert itself," he said enigmatically. "There are no lights..." he whispered almost in mockery.

"How dare you—" Fiona began, her words laced with rising indignation, but she was abruptly cut off.

"You claim the title of Dame, yet before me stands nothing more than a spoiled little princess, lost in her own delusions," the red-haired man remarked coldly, his movements around the pool deliberate and menacing. "Grotesque... you are but a psychopath in regal guise. It's frankly pitiable."

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"And who are you?" Fiona retorted, her interest in his identity secondary to the audacity of his provocation. His boldness, coupled with his disregard for her status, was as intriguing as it was infuriating.

"Just a traveller, a wanderer of sorts," he answered, mocking her. "Perhaps I could be anyone. A foe, a friend, or just a spectator. Who am I? Maybe I’m the father of the one who will kill you! Who knows! It doesn't really matter. It doesn't change anything. But tell me, do you understand the why of their black robes?"

"The Magis? Their robe or no robe is of little consequence to me."

"My question isn't about your concern but rather your insight. You're the daughter of Veilla Mageschstea. Surely, you've received some level of education in such matters, haven't you?"

"Then, by all means, enlighten me," Fiona retorted sharply, her frustration noticeable as she began to crystallise the water around her waist. "Speak, then!"

"The black of their robes conceals blood—blue, red, green, any hue. It obscures the race of their victims, be they human, elf, orc, fae, or menschen." He made a longer pause and, with a smirk, added, "Or Dame. It instils fear and sows doubt. After all, whose blood might that be on their robes? Who's next?" He elucidated, bending down to gently touch the water's surface.

Under his fingers, the water began to emit a faint glow.

Fiona's eyes widened in surprise as she witnessed the effortless activation of the Ormsaat at his touch. At that moment, recognized the danger he posed. "Get to your point," she demanded.

"Dress your followers in white if you wish. After all, children do enjoy their playthings. But beware, there's a new threat: black blood. It needs to be contained and eliminated. And yet, you seem oblivious to this peril," he chided, almost condescendingly. "And you have no idea what the future will hold. And it looks very gruesome in your direction." He clicked his tongue. "I don't wish to be you, honestly. It's bad! It is so bad!"

"I've retained a sample for investigation. I've only recently taken the crown. Did you expect immediate action?"

"No, I expected a sovereign. But all I see is bloodshed, wrath, darkness. No glow of the ley line triggered. You possess raw power but lack mastery. It doesn't bend to your will; you're at its mercy," he stated, rising and casually flicking the water from his fingers. "You are not a Dame and never will be. But telling you otherwise would be futile."

"Did you come to stop me?"

"Across all versions of times and iterations of our encounters, I have ended your life fifty-nine times. You're not as formidable as you believe, lacking both power and allies," he revealed, his words cold and matter-of-fact.

"Yet, in this grand scheme of choices and consequences, you are a necessary piece, a casualty I must endure to achieve the desired conclusion. The conclusion that this world desperately needs. That I need! I have earnestly attempted to rid the world of your influence, but it seems an impossible task. Therefore, each time, I've chosen to let you live. And I must confess it is a guilty pleasure to see you decapitated in public. Chef’s kiss!"

"What is this? Who are you? Some kind of spirit?"

The man merely chuckled at Fiona's question, choosing to leave it unanswered. "It's not a threat but an inevitability. You will meet your end, just like your sister that you killed. I'll try not to miss it when your turn comes. I always find a certain satisfaction in seeing the true Dame, my little girl, rightfully seated on the throne after your head rolls the floor. Is very satisfactory."

"So, what's your purpose in all this? What do you aim to achieve with this intrusion?" Fiona demanded, her patience wearing thin and fear crippling in her throat.

Crouching down to meet her gaze, his single amber eye seemed to pierce through her as if capable of seeing far beyond the physical realm. "Fun. I'm here for my amusement, to plant a seed of self-doubt within you. I wanted to witness the beginning of your downfall. With each interaction that you and I had, I hold out hope that your end will be even more harrowing than in the past."

Standing up, he clapped his hands against his knees. "One can always dream, can't they?"

With that, he took just a couple of steps away and vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.

And he was right. With a sinking heart, Fiona realised that she lacked the necessary knowledge or power to activate the Ormsaat. How had he done it so effortlessly? Who was this enigmatic man, and what was his connection to her and the fate he so cryptically alluded to? And he spoke about a daughter? These questions swirled in her mind, adding to the growing turmoil within her.

A seed he so dearly planted.

> When teaching young students about the concept of ley lines, I often find myself drawing parallels with something more familiar to them: electricity. How did the world function in those times? What kept it in motion? Why were the Dames so crucial? Just as electricity is generated in power plants and distributed through a complex network of substations, transformers, and power lines, ley lines once functioned in a similar manner. But unlike our electrical grids, which are solely dedicated to transmitting energy, ley lines did much more. They weren't just conduits of power; they influenced and tempered the very elements - water, earth, and air. Now, these ley lines lie dormant, yet the world continues to turn. Water still flows, the air still moves, and we still breathe oxygen. When my students ask, "So why do we still have these essentials if there are no Dames to control the ley lines?" I find myself... how do I explain this? I simply don’t. I don’t need to teach everything! They don’t need to know everything I know. And besides it will not even be on the next exam. So yes, I play dumb. ——The Hexe - Book One by Professor Edgar O. Duvencrune, Special Edition, 555th Summer