"First things first, I would do well to show you the basics of the Reverie in person. To do that, you’ll need to invite me into your dream," Beck's uncle explained. They both stood in his suite, Rowan commandeering the room like it was a lecture hall. Meanwhile, Beck sat on the edge of the bed, confounded at what his uncle was trying to explain to him.

“Alright, how would I even do that?” Beck asked.

Rowan went over to the bowl on the bedside table and took one of the strange metal tokens from it. “We made these for that very purpose,” he said, handing it to his nephew. “They are simple invitations that allow others access to your world in the Reverie. All you have to do is give it to me, and the effect will be active.”

Beck looked between the disk and his uncle. "How —"

"There will be a time for exploring the inner workings, but now is not that time," Rowan interrupted.

He handed the disk back. There were countless questions running through his head, but given the fickle nature of his uncle he decided to humor him for now.

“Excellent. Now all that is left to do is to enter in." Reaching into his jacket pocket, Rowan pulled out a small vial containing a clear liquid. "This is a serum we use to quicken the transition, it will put you to sleep like that," he punctuated with a snap of his fingers.

Beck looked at it dubiously. "What exactly is in it?"

His uncle looked down at the mixture. "I don't know."

An uneasy laugh escaped Beck's mouth. "There's no way I'm drinking that."

"Oh heavens no! The serum is very potent, you only need a dab of it under your nose. And while I don't personally know its contents, Nora is the one who concocted it."

"I'm not sure that makes me feel any safer."

His uncle chuckled. "Nora can sometimes be a miserable traditionalist, but that's how I know I can trust her methods." He held out the vial to Beck, who reluctantly took it. "I'll be off to my own quarters, we'll reconvene inside."

Rowan strode out of the suite with the token in hand, leaving Beck alone with the vial. Sighing, he uncapped it and dipped a finger into the liquid. Covering it back up, he put the vial on his bedside table. He stared at his finger, trying to rationalize what on earth he was doing. A part of him was wondering why he was even entertaining this madness his uncle was putting him through, convinced that the previous night was a grand delusion. The last few days could easily have made him crack like his uncle had.

The other part of him was eager to dig deeper. The idea that what he’d experienced was real was a terrifying prospect, but that paled in comparison to the exhilaration of the possibility. This was why he had traveled so far from home, hadn’t it?

His curious half won out, and he put his finger up to his nose. It smelled like a mixture of lavender and herbs, altogether more pleasant than he expected. He waited for the effects to kick in, but he didn't feel any more tired than he did before. Beck reached back for the serum to get a bigger dose.

"You won't be needing any more of that," a voice said.

He jumped in surprise, before the small, ursine form of Patch pulled themselves up onto the bed. Beck was confused, until he looked down and saw he was sitting in the same phantom version of himself he saw last night. The form was passed out in a less than flattering way.

"When did that happen?" He asked.

"The sleeping solution from Mistress Nora is powerful," the bear said. "Master Rowan says it's so instantaneous that sometimes you don't even notice the transition into the Reverie."

Beck looked around the room, noticing the mid-morning light still streaming in through the windows. It seemed that the flow of time reflected that of the real world here. He shifted his gaze to the doll, who sat unblinking at the foot of the bed.

He pointed at Patch. "When I awoke last time, you weren't responding to me. Are you only alive when I'm dreaming?"

The bear tilted its head. "More or less. I was created in your 'waking world,' and my form there reflects my appearance here. But my kind primarily has a presence in the Reverie. Most of what happens outside of here we are blind to."

Beck tried to make sense of what the creature was saying. "So you didn't hear what my uncle and I were talking about a minute ago?"

Patch shook its head. “I am only aware of changes in your world that affect me here, the biggest of which would be if I were moved to a different room. I am only able to be here with you now because you are asleep in the same room as I.”

He chewed on what the creature said. Beck had a strong desire to not be made a fool of like the previous night, and worked to wrap his head around the alien logic Patch presented him with. “So when I moved you to the hallway a couple of days ago, that disabled you from being here?”

“Yes. If I’m not in a dream with someone, I remain in a dormant state. I believe it is the closest equivalent to sleep my kind has, but we have more of a sense of our surroundings. We can tell when the space around us changes in your world.”

“But when you were in my dream last night, you entered from the hallway anyway. Why didn’t you just appear in my room like you did right now? Your chair is in my suite, and this is where I’ve started dreaming both times,” Beck said, running his fingers through his own phantom.

The bear huffed. “Entering into someone’s dream isn’t so simple. The Reverie has a lot of tricky rules binding it. As for your specific case, the entrance to your dream isn’t the door to your room.”

The sound of a muted knock came from outside. Beck got up from his bed and walked to the window. At the front entrance to the manor he saw his uncle standing with his arms crossed, his fingers beating a fidgety rhythm against his elbows. Bizarrely, he wore a brightly-colored fur scarf around his neck.

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“We’d better go down and meet up with Master Rowan,” Patch said. “You should carry me there, but this time the proper way.”

He looked at the doll with bewilderment. “You’re pulling my leg.”

The bear chortled its strange laugh. "If I needed to walk everywhere, the going would be much slower. Come over and sit on the edge of the bed."

Beck complied and sat next to the creature. He tensed when he felt Patch climb onto his back, digging its small metal claws into the fabric of his shirt. Patch's front legs hung around his neck like a collar while its back legs gripped his sides. "This is the optimal position for both of us," it said.

He stood up. The carry was reminiscent of a small child riding piggyback, and again Beck was surprised at the doll's relative lightness compared to its size. He felt and probably looked ridiculous, but he thought he understood what Patch meant by "optimal." The doll was able to cling to him with relative comfort on Beck's end, and his hands were free to use.

Still, the situation raised many questions. “Do all of you — all ‘velours’ — rely on humans in some way? I can’t imagine another reason why you are here. For that matter, how do you subsist? Is there a land of living doll creatures somewhere?”

Patch bumped his head against the back of Beck’s neck. “Go to Master Rowan, we can talk on the way.”

He headed towards the entrance to the suite. When he opened the door he was greeted with the same hallway he was used to from his time in the Barclay estate. Before he could comment on that, the doll said, “Velours are bound to humanity by our nature. We were created by them, hence we are your servants.”

That wasn’t a response he was expecting. “Are there any of you who live free?”

“I think you misunderstand; It isn’t servitude in the way that a human is forced to serve another human. It is a fulfillment of our purpose to assist travelers in our realms.”

Beck shook his head, jostling his passenger. “All people have a will of their own. Even if there is a purpose to life that doesn’t mean everyone will follow after it.”

The bear let out a deep hum, as though evaluating the man’s reply. “There is something important you must keep in mind. Although my form is one reminiscent of the animals in your world and my speech is understandable, I am not a person.”

“What does that matter? Even if you are some other being, I can’t help but regard you in anthropomorphic terms. That is part of my nature.”

“It isn’t my kind that you should be careful of, Master Beckham. In the Reverie there are things in the shape of a man that are not human.”

He stopped in the middle of the hallway. The creature on his back suddenly felt very alien, and despite the warmth of summer he felt a shiver run up his spine.

“Part of my purpose is to make sure we avoid such unsavory beings,” Patch continued. “We have a sixth sense for the landscape of this realm, running into such entities only occurs with a lack of caution.”

Beck murmured something to himself, then continued towards the atrium. He didn’t speak the rest of the way.

Finally he arrived at the front door, the great hall still filled with mid-morning sunlight. Beck pulled it open. His uncle stood on the other side, appraising the exterior of the building. After a time his uncle turned to him, noticing the open entrance.

“I have to say, this is quite impressive!” Rowan said, walking into what was effectively his own house. “This world is much more detailed and expansive than what you typically see from those newly awakened to the Reverie.”

He made a half-shrug, unsure how to respond to that. His uncle rested a hand on the ridiculous scarf he wore, and Beck nearly jumped when it moved. His mind took a moment to reframe the bundle of fur as a fox-like animal that curled around Rowan's neck. It raised its head and sniffed the air, regarding him with beady eyes. Like the creature on his own back, this one also had the appearance of a doll.

"You've already met Patch, this one is named Spool," his uncle said, patting the velour on the head.

"Hello, Spool," Beck said in greeting, raising his hand in an awkward wave.

A cat-like murmur emerged from the fox's throat before it rested its head on Rowan's shoulder and closed its eyes.

"That one isn't much of a talker," Patch commented.

"Which is exactly why I prefer them over carrying you around everywhere," his uncle remarked. The bear snorted, which Rowan pointedly ignored. "I'd imagine you have numerous questions," he directed at Beck.

He opened his mouth and closed it, trying to sort through the thoughts thundering through his head. Finally he said, "What have you pulled me into? I feel clear-headed, but I don’t know if I can trust what is before my eyes. For all I know, these visions could be the result of hypnosis or some form of stimulant.”

“If you were concerned about being drugged, you shouldn’t have consumed the serum,” his uncle said with a wry smile. “I assure you, this is really happening. The continuity between the waking world and here should be sufficient proof.”

Beck’s eyes wandered around the hall, its familiarity reassuring him, before settling back on the creature curled around his uncle’s neck. “It seems outlandish, but Patch said this is a dream. Supposing that is true, how does this ‘Reverie’ interact with the real world? What even is this place?”

“Ha! You do realize you are asking me to explain something that defies our understanding? I can only try to estimate it in human terms. It’s like —” His uncle held his hands out flat, his left hand hovering below his right hand. He wiggled his lower hand. “We live on this waking plane of existence, a reality bound by natural laws. However, when we sleep our minds are open to another layer,” his uncle explained, moving his upper hand. “When we dream, we are accessing that other world, where nothing is impossible.

“Where we are now exists between these two planes,” Rowan continued. “You can consider the Reverie like a half-floor between the waking and sleeping layers. It has rules governing it like our own world, but those rules adhere to the figurative logic of dreams. Hence why we have beings like the Velours,” he said, patting Spool on the head. “In a strange way, it seems natural that they are counterparts to the stuffed animals children use to ward off nightmares.”

Beck stared at his uncle blankly. “I don’t follow.”

The bear on his back was the one who piped up. “Remember I said how velours are guardians in this world?”

Although most of what he was experiencing still felt frustratingly obtuse, the pieces aligned just enough in Beck’s mind for him to grasp the concept. “So, because teddy bears are perceived as some sort of protective force while people sleep by the collective unconscious, in the Reverie they literally manifest as protective entities?”

His uncle gave him an approving smile. “That is the conclusion we have come to. Or our running hypothesis, rather. Like I said, the rules of the Reverie are fluid.”

Beck grinned. He wasn’t even sure why he was grinning, his uncle’s answer only opened up questions of an even stranger nature, which should have been endlessly frustrating. Instead, the mystery felt reassuring, like stumbling across a pleasant memory he’d forgotten. Closer in his pursuit. What it was he was after, he couldn’t quite place.