Rye listened with rapt attention as Elia told her about her past few days. From meeting the pact, all the way to her confrontation with Rhuna, Rye listened, and watched, and thought. She had done a lot of thinking in her time here. In her humble opinion she was getting quite good at it. Which wasn’t to say she had an answer to everything, but if asked where to start, she could say ‘right here, sirs and madams’.
“You, clearly, need a break Elia,” Rye said. “You’ve been on your toes for weeks now, heck, you were already antsy while we were supposed to be on break at Clearwater Temple. I know you think you can’t afford it, but you will. I’ll take control and, in the meantime, you can relax however you want in this dreamscape provided by yours truly.”
She winked, projecting a confidence she could have only copied.
Elia looked around, sharp and tired gaze taking in the surroundings for the first time. “You’ve gotten better.”
“An understatement. I have studied conjuration. I can look into dreams about things past, and can create anything I desire within my own. My boredom was great, but my passion was greater! Look at my shading, the cross-hatching, you can barely notice it’s there! I have become great. Perhaps, some might say, awesome.”
She didn’t miss the hint of a wry smile on Elia’s face. And yet, there was something she was hiding from her, something she either didn’t feel appropriate to touch on here and now.
“Go on. Say what’s on your mind. Please?”
Elia paused. “When… when I was on my last leg in front of Rhuna, it wasn’t you who came out to end my life, I assume.”
“No.”
“And when a bunch of dregs jumped me before passing out, that was…”
“Well, that is… huh.” She stared at Zippo. “Was that your doing? I thought we had an accord.”
Her other half looked between her and the zoomy slug. “Can’t say I condone your little pet there either.”
“Pet? Pah! Zippo is the representation of the greater shard of dreaming, and an honored friend. As someone who confers with toads, you should know better than to cast stones. Look, he can even talk!”
The flying slug did a little happy toot. “Frien-duh. Hap-py-uh.”
Elia sighed. “… right. Sorry, I’m in a judgmental mood today. And sorry, for heaping this all onto your shoulders.”
“Ah-ah, none of that. Tell me what you want to relax and take your mind off of things, then I will handle the rest. I’ll even turn down Karla for you since you evidently don’t think you’re ready for a relationship. You can’t leave the poor girl hanging like that, you know?”
“I’d rather you… it’s not like… I’m not …” Elia groaned. “I skipped that part because obviously you’d fixate on that more than the imminent threat to our freedom, life, and limbs. How do you even know that?”
“I read your dreams,” Rye said, proudly and with oblivious innocence to match.
They came to her sometimes, the dreams of others, like children asking for permission to leave the dinner table. Peeking inside gave her all kinds of spicy insight, though she did try not to spy too much. It was exhausting anyhow, experiencing every dream as if it were her own. Once she was inside one, they were like a vortex that sucked her along. Only her own could she change and modify with wild abandon.
Elia meanwhile looked a smidge more uncomfortable than usual.
“Right. So, Rhuna.” Rye conjured two cushions, sitting down next to Elia. “Any plans?”
“The pact is cooking something up. They believe me, for the most part. But I can’t deliver the same kind of evidence again, not reliable, and not that Rhuna would allow me to. This is our final loop to get things right.” She nervously fidgeted with her dream-armor, torn in reflection of her physical form. “What if it’s not enough?”
“Then you just have to do what you always do. Push through until you are enough,” Rye said. “If I’ve learned one thing from you, it’s that persistence and patience lead to perfection.”
Elia stared at her, as if her eyes would peel away the flattery to reveal a darker core. But with nothing to find beneath besides honesty and Rye’s bright, moonlit smile, she relaxed, sinking a bit more into her cushion. “Thanks Rye. I mean it. In my two hundred years, I have never been in a bigger pickle than now.”
Rye grinned a cheeky grin. “Two hundred years, huh? You aged like fine milk.”
“… are you calling me cheese?”
Rye turned, cupping Elia’s cheeks. “Like a fine cheese. A grumpy cheese. A stinky one. We need to get you a bath.”
“Sure, a bath. That sounds… nice,” Elia said, belatedly realizing that Rye had plucked them from the tower and onto a greener scenery. “And since when do you have a sense of humor?”
“Ever since watching all the comedy shows you binged!” Rye sat down in the grass next to her and conjured her dream-quill.
She’d always wanted a real quill back at home, but couldn’t justify the frivolous expense. With quick strokes and strikes, she cut out a nearby untouched spot of dream, splashing it with a smattering of pleasant colors. She pictured a place to relax, easy on the eyes. Elia wanted a bath, so she would get a realm of water, pools hot and cold, deep and shallow, with waves or filled with flower petals. A few of her older creations were easily co-opted into the scene. By the end, Rye was certain that Elia would never want to leave this place.
Elia blinked, no doubt rousing from rapturous wonder. “That was amazing.”
“I know!” Elia took one step, but Rye stopped her. “Ah-ah, what did we learn about armor in bathhouses?”
Elia rolled her eyes. With a snap, Rye swapped her old chainmail and whatnot with a modest bath towel.
“I’m not sure how I feel about the idea that you can undress me with a thought.”
Rye laughed, gave her a smack on the butt, then offered her a mildly confused Quibbles, also wrapped in a bathrobe.
“Can you talk too?” Elia asked her toad.
Quibbles croaked, neither confirming nor denying it. Rye tossed him and Elia into the pool, her tinkling giggle running throughout the world.
“Go have fun! Relax! No running!” She called after them. “And no worries, I’ll handle it. Leave it all to me.”
She zoomed out, leaving Elia and her toad to themselves. Hopefully the design and variety would be enough for some time. Rye had spent well over… well over a few months in here, and gods knew she would have gone crazy without anything to do.
After a short ponder on what else Elia would want, she tugged the castle and the village of Littleton closer. Then, for good measure, she crafted an armory of weapons on the spot, at least one of every type.
“That should keep her busy.” Rye said.
She hummed happily, taking one last look at her compiled works. Maybe she would have become an artist, had her parents let her. But – no, no, none of that. Those kinds of thoughts belonged in the forever box, with all her bad dreams and memories.
No distractions. It was time to wake up.
Rye did and for a moment, she felt like she could conquer everything in sight.
Then she slowly opened her eyes. She looked up and around at the unfamiliar ceiling. The weight of merely existing was one she had almost forgotten. How to breathe, too. She smacked her lips. Elia needed to learn better dental hygiene. Rye willed them clean.
Sadly, the teeth did not obey. How rude.
With a yawn, she got up, and tugged at the skies above. A mixture of influences from the mint well constellation and lukewarm ice-slush of the big spoon sloshed through her mouth. After a moment, she spat it out, and the conjured mixture dissipated, leaving her mouth minty clean.
Karla looked at her with an unprincesslike gaping mouth. “Did you just use conjuration to brush your teeth?”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“Yes?” Rye said. “Oh, don’t worry, small things like this are completely safe to do without a focus. I always do this when I’m dre–“
She paused, blinked, then realized an itty-bitty important detail. She was not dreaming. And unlike in her dreams, failure here had real, tangible consequences, in conjuration and otherwise. Rye found her heart racing, but more than that, she found herself annoyed by it. It was telling her what to feel, what to think, how to react when in reality, she was the one in control.
But since being mad at her internal organs didn’t help, she resorted to mediation. In and out. Slow and steady breaths.
They helped with her heartbeat at least. But the rapturous feeling of excitement, of standing on top of the world didn’t go. When she opened her eyes, it was as if she knew her place in everything just that little bit more.
“Alright,” Rye said. “Maybe I have been asleep for a tiny bit too long.”
“More like five minutes,” some guy she didn’t know scoffed. He had a pale, handsome face, and an attitude that ruined it all. Judging by that description, his name was Zane, and he was likely going to follow her around like a total creep.
Rye ignored him in favor of tackling the first of many problems staring her in the face. The Wolf was there, invisible to all but her. He and Cesare, who seemed to have just been waiting for any sign of her rousing, practically leapt on her like direwolves.
“I need to talk to Rye,” they said in unison.
Rye blinked. “Rye. Yes. That is my name.”
They immediately started talking over each other. Rye didn’t understand what either of them were saying.
“Stop! Stop,” she said, waving her hands protectively. “One after the other. First, Wolf.”
“I need you to help me. I have found my body.”
“Umm, alright?” Rye said. “Maybe not the time, considering we have only a day or two left until Rhuna’s assault.”
“I’d rather you consider my place,” said the Wolf. “I am stuck as a spirit, have been, for years and years. What is more, this concerns more than you and I. The world may be at stake.”
Rye mulled it over for a bit. The world versus Elia’s happiness. The calculation was quite obvious. She owed nothing to this world so far removed from her own, and she owed everything to Elia. “No thank you. Now you, Cesare.”
“I need to talk to you in private,” he said without a hint of shame.
Karla spluttered like a roto-copter. “M-me too! I, well, I want to talk to Elia. But considering I can’t seem to find the privacy in my own room…”
Rye smiled. “Alright. Does anyone else lay a claim on my precious time and attention?”
Zane lazily raised a hand. “I am not to let you out of my sight. Your knowledge is very important to the pact and you were promised protection and to be allowed to join. Frankly, I don’t see why we’re making all this fuss about may-be’s and what-if’s. We have our ears and eyes out for Rhuna all the time and there are a hundred little dreg outposts between her land and ours. She could never approach undetected, unless–“
“Unless she has found a bowl of respite nearby,” Rye said “Of which there should be quite many.”
Zane scoffed. “Not if you want to live for long. We smashed all the ones in a few mile radius.”
Rye turned all her focus on the man. “You WHAT!?”
Cesare meekly raised his voice. “It is common practice. You keep one or two bowls in secure locations, then prevent the enemy from accessing your territory through all others. It only takes one person to touch the bowl and they can then drag an army after them.”
Rye blinked in disbelief. Just imagining a bowl shattered felt like someone had taken a chisel to her own heart. The implications that this was established some undetermined time in the past only made it worse. She shoved all that aside and into the forever-box.
“Ok... If she isn’t coming through a bowl, how else could she sneak inside?”
Zane shrugged. “A boon, the greater shard of transportation, divine intervention? Who knows. All I know is that all the adults are scared shitless of this Rhuna person. In my opinion, that just means she’s worth more shards and souls; maybe some epics or even a legendary.”
Oh. Oh, blessed be the meek and the idiots of the world. Maybe if everyone was born without fear like him, they wouldn’t have shattered the very things that held the panacea to all ills. Though, speaking profit-wise, with only a few bowls to watch over whoever was in charge practically held an iron grip over every undead. Which was essentially everyone.
Ugh. How did Elia not see this problem with the pact? It was like she fell in love with an uncouth rogue just because he flattered her with compliments and other niceties. As an institution it was not married to the idea of the morally righteous, but loathe was she to admit to knowing any better alternatives. Her dreams lacked these kinds of moral and logical complexity, or the barriers to fixing it all.
And she would fix it all. Not today. And not tomorrow. But she had the power to change everything thanks to her greater shard.
She resisted the urge to fly straight through the ceiling and jumped out of bed instead. “Alright. I can do this. Karla, Elia doesn’t love you. Cesare, if you’re going to confess to me, this is not the time. Zane, you’re some semi-important person in the pact right?”
“I feel mildly insulted–“
Rye put her hands on his shoulders. “Right! So, I need to travel through the bowl and I need you to get me permission to use the pact’s.”
“Out of the question–“
“I knew I could count on you!” she said, squeezing him in a hug until he was squeaking like a mouse. “Now! We are going out shopping.”
----------------------------------------
Cesare blinked as he stepped out of the wide bowl of respite. They were in a temple, but the ceiling was not any he recognized. A breeze blew in from somewhere outside. Rye meanwhile walked with a sureness to her step as if she owned the place.
He caught up to her as a quiet Karla and a nervous Zane emerged after them.
“Don’t you think your sudden switch to confidence is a bit… jarring?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Great.” He sighed. “Apparently, you are suffering from a case of god’s disease.”
“But I feel great!” Rye stretched her arms wide. “Like thiiis much. But more!”
Cesare did not smile. “And that is exactly the problem. You absorbed the greater shard of dreaming, didn’t you? What you’re feeling is the divine will within trying to marry its purpose with your place in the world. You need time to rest, time to adapt.”
“I’ve rested for literal months, Cesare. I. Am. Doing. Fine.” She turned around and punctuated every word with a boop to his cheek.
He batted her hand away in a poor attempt at hiding the anger flushing his cheeks. “You had a five-minute nap. An hour ago, Yolon was still alive. And yet you’re prancing around without a care for the effect you are having on everyone around you. Look at me. Look at Karla.”
She squished his cheeks with her hands.
“I am looking at you now.” Their eyes met. “You’re tall. And your skin is so smooth. I think it’s cute how you’re trying to constantly shuffle your cloud hair until it sits just right. I am looking, and I am listening. What did you want to say?”
Cesare swallowed lightly. His hands were sweating; his tail flicked to the side. He should have had complete control over every aspect of his body and she shouldn’t even be this lucid. But standing here, his face cupped in her fingers, it was like being in the palms of a god all over again. A feeling he loved, was designed to love.
With every ounce of will, he tore his head away. “You’re being more than rude.”
That got her to blink. Hopefully he had reeled enough of her head down from the clouds for her to understand what he was going to say next. All sound turned muted as he gently removed her arms from his burning face.
“I am part of a clandestine group only known to few. We forsake the very concept that a god is deserving to rule merely because they have power beyond all reproach. They deserve their power no less or more than any other mortal. For our purpose, we monitor all known bearers of greater shards.”
Rye blinked again, this time quizzically. “Oh. So our first meeting was not a coincidence.”
Correct. No matter the shard of Dreaming’s influence, Rye was sharp. The moment the princess had left her home, they had beelined it towards her.
“Nali, the leader of my group, knows how to track people like Karla, people like you. We have found a way to fix this mess of a city, and for that we need to follow a path leading inside the high domain of gods on Gatheon.” His gaze drifted to the large mountain, hidden behind… more mountains.
They were outside the city, he belatedly realized. His gaze fell down to the rocky path, and then onto the maze that seemed to stretch endlessly around until it met the end of the world. He dropped his bubble of selective silence.
“Look at this place!” Zane said, nearly jumping out of his shoes. “Outside the city, not contested by anyone. This is a great area to farm souls. And that’s just one path, where does the other one lead?”
“Glenrock Castle…” Rye muttered.
“Glenrock! We could absolutely attack Rhuna from the flanks!”
Rye blinked a third time, then leaned into Karla. “The maze also makes you go a bit cooky. Remember when we first met? Elia had just come out of a few hundred years of walking in circles in there.”
Karla just nodded slowly, not saying a word. Cesare looked around and sighed. The biggest threat he could expect was Rye and the influence she was subconsciously wielding on those around her.
“Sad isn’t it? Seeing so much willful power clash with this world.”
Cesare jumped at the voice sounding out right next to him. He shouldn’t have let his guard down; he was a poor combatant and his survival had always hinged on not being acquired as a target in the first place. But the pale, three-armed woman sitting at his feet did not even register as a creature until he nearly stumbled over her. She looked morose, and he only recognized her by the cratered moon-mask cradled in her arms.
“Sister moon?” he asked in disbelief. “You were supposed to have gone missing seven years ago.”
“Yes, I do recall making that choice.”
“Everyone on your team died or went missing in the Rhuna’s domain.”
“I… wish I’d had more of a say in the matter.” The three-armed woman sighed glumly. “Are you still harping on about scheming your way on top of that accursed mountain?”
“It’s more than schemes. We might finally have a chance to end it all.”
“And how many greater shardbearers do you have?”
“With these… two.”
They watched in silence as Rye haggled with a legless merchant that had appeared out of seemingly nowhere. By the looks of it, she was winning through pure enthusiasm.
“You ought to convince her to make the ascent, before she tears herself apart.”
Her words tugged at his heart. He cursed at himself, bagged it up, then kicked it down the road.
“And how do you think I should go about doing that?”
The woman followed Rye for another brief few moments. “Continue what you have been doing. Make yourself indispensable. If you then ask her for a favor, she will be inclined to listen, if only to satisfy her sense of what is and isn’t right.”
They turned to where Rye had just conjured a handful of ice-swords. The merchant did not look like he'd want to buy them.
"If only it were that easy. What could someone with the power of the gods even want?"