IV: The Awakening

“Caithe!”

Sinne’s body jolted, shooting up as it struggled away from the things that confined her. She tossed, throwing off the covering only to find that it came away easily. It made a dull thudding noise on the ground as it was flung across the room. Sinne didn’t see the blanket’s flight though, instead her eyes were darting about the room. Her heart practically screaming in her chest as she searched the space for nightmare beasts and their dragon lord. The search came up empty.

“Steady, sapling.” A voice said. Sinne’s body fled from it as she sprung from her nestings, her hand instinctively going to the place her bow and arrows would have been. Though this search too left her grasping at empty air. “You’ve just woke.”

Sinne’s eyes darted blurrily about the room. Finally fixing on the Sylvari that stood in the doorway. His sharp, branch-like greenish brown features looked her over wearily from beneath his leafed bangs. In his hands he carried a thin tray of oak with a plate of food and a cup. She swallowed but the movement only left a painfully dry lump in her throat.

“Where am I,” she asked. Letting her hands drop to her sides, though her body didn’t feel any more relaxed from the movement. “I-I was fighting…”

Sinne jumped at the noise of hounds, their yips cutting through the gentle hum of other noise like a knife cutting through air. At once she was at the door, the Sylvari man on her heels as she moved in sure strides to the doorway. Pushing open the door here, she halted. Looking out over the bright expanse of a small town that lay before her. The town was a mix of colors, the buildings sprawling up in like flowers from the rich green earth and standing taller than any flower she’d seen before. Tall enough and shaped just right to form buildings beneath their leafy shelters. And there were many of them, reds and greens and oranges and so forth. Curving gentle like tiny huts beside the path that inched it’s way through the center of the cluster.

A bug chirped loud, calling her eyes in it’s direction so that they would sweep over a patch of trees off in the distance to the left. Growing from pools of water as a few Sylvari waded in the water and tended to plants that grew from its depth. To the right was more water, a shallow pool that led off and away from their small save clearing into a tangle of giant roots and cliffs.

She let out a small, disbelieving gasp. “Where am I?”

“Astorea,” it was the same Sylvari as before. He’d followed her to the doorway and now stood patiently beside the table in what seemed to be a little kitchen. “Caithe had urgent business with the Pale Tree, I’m sure she’ll be back when she hears you’re awake.”

Sinne’s eyes moved about the room and again about the village. “We…” her voice trailed away for a moment. “There was a battle.”

“I’ve heard some of it,” the Sylvari said. “Not to mention the fact that you were calling out in your dream. Come, sit.” He set the tray down at the table, a flat plantlike piece of furniture that was complete with a pair of matching chairs in the same tawny color.

Sinne hesitated. “Are we… safe?”

This drew a laugh from the Sylvari as he removed the plate and cup from the tray and moved across the kitchen to the counter on the other side. “Aye,” he said as he moved, “Safer than many. As safe as one can be in Tyria.”

Tyria, that was where Caithe had said she was from. Which meant that Sinne had awakened. Not that she had any idea what that actually meant. She’d felt awake enough in her clearing, though now looking back at it the whole thing seemed to have a golden glow about it. A gentle haze like her eyes had been covered in a cloth and she’d looked at the word through that. Now that she stood there, awake. It was like the world was crystal clear and much brighter. The colors were as shocking as seeing the fall leaves from before.

“The Dream?”

The Sylvari paused in his movements, his back stiff. “We are unsure,” he stated. “That is why Caithe has gone to the Pale Tree.”

She nodded, finally taking the seat he had offered her. It was strange staring down at the food because Sinne realized she knew what it was. That was likely some sort of moa meat, cooked well over a fire. She even could compare it to other types of meats that they’d likely find around the forest of Astorea. Rabbit and deer and other things that tasted good when roasted. However, she didn’t know how she knew they tasted good. She didn’t know how she could place that they all tasted similar. It was, like everything else had been even back in her meadow, part of a memory that sat very treacherously just outside her mind’s grasp. Which, Sinne realized, made sense because the memories she was drawing on likely weren’t her own.

Her eyes darted up to the other Sylvari. He had turned back toward her, leaning with his arms crossed expectantly over his chest. When their eyes met, he raised a quizzical brow and nodded his head toward the food. Perhaps some of the memories that she had drawn from were his, though she didn’t know his name or if he’d just woken like her. She suspected that some, even if very a small amount, of the knowledge she had must have come from him. Lifting the meat with her hands, she placed it onto her tongue and chewed. Letting the juices of the food envelope her mouth, a pleasant hum escaping her throat.

The Sylvari chuckled. “I’m a fan of Moa also,” he said and came to take a spot across from her. “I’m Serimon.”

“Sinne,” she said through a mouthful of moa. She hadn’t realized it, but she had been starving. The meat touching her tongue had awakened that craving in her. Her stomach growling like an angry animal as she devoured the food Serimon had given her, washing it down with the sweet honey-water that filled the cup.

He smiled. “Caithe told me,” he said. “I’m the Mendor who’s usually tasked with seeing to newly awakened Sylvari. Though, admittedly, we generally do most of the introductions in the grove.”

Sinne of course knew what the grove was and vague images moved across her mind when he said the world. Though these too were muted memories from the other awakened. She’d never been there herself. It being the capital of Sylvari, Sinne imagined that she would eventually be going there.

“If usually we wake there,” Sinne leaned back in her chair, satisfied at last, “why am I in Astorea?”

Stolen story; please report.

Serimon offered her a tentative smile. “Because we weren’t sure…” He paused as if changing his mind and then said, “Caithe said that you were… injured… in the Dream.”

Looking past Serimon, her mind filled with the memories of the Dream. Though she would have called it more a Nightmare than anything pleasant like a dream. It left her body cold thinking about it, her hand clenching into a fist as she thought about the dragon, the nightmare hounds, the terror in the forest. The stag.

She pulled herself from the thoughts. “There was a poison,” Sinne stated, “I saw terrible things.”

“Yes,” Serimon nodded. “When we realized there that the new Saplings were not waking it was already too late to stop it.”

Sinne shivered. Her hands wrapped around herself so that she might rub the cold from her skin, though this proved to be useless since the chill was deeper. Serimon seemed to notice this as he at once cleared his throat.

“There’s no need to remember now,” he said. “I’m sure Caithe will talk to you when the time is right. Until then, I’ve been tasked with making sure you’re settled in. Luckily enough I have a spare room that you’re welcome to use until you’ve found a place of your own.”

Sinne followed his hand as he gestured toward the room she’d come from. She could see the blanket where it’d been thrown against the wall and had fallen to the floor. The bed was made of matting, cloth, and the same plant-like frame that held it off the ground. Beside it sat a small table but the rest she couldn’t see through the doorway.

“What do I even do?” Her eyes turned back to Serimon. “What does one do when they awaken?”

Serimon’s chuckle was a deep, friendly noise. Something she realized calmed the way her stomach tightened at the thought of venturing out into Tyria. He then gave her a smile that she at once picked out as the word kind. He gave her a kind, knowing smile. Cause he and many others had once been in her shoes.

“Well,” his voice hung onto the last letter of the word for a moment before he continued, “It depends. Some Sylvari have… callings… if you will. Wyld Hunts that the Dream gave them. Most seem to naturally take to one thing or another, with a deep need to heal or travel.”

Sinne’s brows furrowed. Did she have a calling? She searched around in her memories. Though her hands came up just as empty as they had when she’d tried to reach for her bow. There was nothing that called her in a certain direction. She had no desire to mend a broken bone or to travel to the far reaches of Tyria. Mostly, Sinne realized with a shiver, she was just afraid. There was a gnawing feeling that made her feel cold despite the warm air and warmer smile from Serimon. She looked down at her hands where they clasped in front of her on the table.

“Most,” Serimon continued. “Some just wander until they find a purpose.”

A silence filled the room. She could see Serimon move suddenly at the edge of her gaze, standing from his chair and stretching. A long, groaning noise coming from him as he did. Then he let his hands fall loosely to his sides, his head turning about the room.

“Well,” he said. “I guess it's about time I show you the village.”

Sinne’s eyes darted up to him. “The vil…” her eyes moved to the window. “Oh, I don’t thi-”

“Nonsense,” he said. “You don’t need to think about what your purpose is, or if you have a Wyld hunt, or the meaning of life. You just need to start, Sinne. Start here, in our forest.” He gestured toward the door.

Serimon would not take no as an answer. Perhaps there was part of him that realized Sinne was terrified of what lay beyond the door of his little hut in Astorea. Or it could have just been that he was used to having to coax strong willed Sylvari saplings from their safe places. Either way, before Sinne could convince him otherwise they were out walking the worn road of Astorea.

She had known that it wouldn’t be bad, after all the memories she had in her mind had told her that the village was a safe and warm place for a sapling to grow. It was placed just outside the Grove as well, just beyond the mothriddled pathway that led to the multilayered city that glittered in the cliff face above the sea. So if anything were to go wrong, it was simple enough to flee into the Grove where the elder Sylvari and the firstborn called home.

This was confirmed again by Serimon as she pointed out the green pathway to their city, back behind them just beyond the limits of Astorea. Still, despite knowing this from the Dream and hearing it from Serimon, Sinne could still feel the deep, gnawing chill that sat in her belly. It did all but consume her as she and the Mendor made their way from his home close to the path leading to the Grove and down toward the foot of the village where the path meandered off into the forest.

They passed by plenty of Sylvari on the way, many who waved to Serimon and wished him well. Serimon would always do the same. Oftentimes pausing long enough to introduce them to Sinne, saying she was newly awakened from the Dream.

“Aren’t we glad,” One Sylvari woman said as she reached out to squeeze Sinne’s hand. “I had heard the Dream was sick and saplings weren’t waking. But here you are.”

Serimon gave a grave nod. “There is hope,” He said. “Sinne is proof of that.”

After a few more words of pleasant conversation about the firstborn and how the woman was settling into her new home amongst the orchards, Serimon steered Sinne away. Leading her up a small rock path to a ledge that overlooked the whole of Astorea and some of the forest beyond. Here he motioned for her to sit on one of the rocks that’d been flattened into benches. Letting out a sigh of his own as he took another. Then they sat in silence, the sun creeping dangerously toward the horizon as the sky darkened. It was half set when finally Sinne asked the question that’d been running around in her mind since they’d spoken with the woman before.

“The Dream is sick,” Sinne couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a question. Perhaps it was a bit of both but Serimon took it more as the latter.

With a sigh he said, “It is.”

A wave of unease washed over her that Sinne struggled to place. It made her stomach twist, threatening to reject the moa she’d eaten earlier as the words Caithe had said to her swam in her mind. The poison of the Dream was something she had been told to fight, perhaps she was the only one that had been able to fight it even. In that case, it meant that when she had failed to kill the dragon she’d failed to cleanse the Dream. Right?

“Perhaps,” she said, “it’s my fault the other saplings won’t wake.”

Serimon’s hands were on hers in a second. His face came into her view, forcing her to meet his eyes with a frantic sort of look. There was a gentle, knowing worry in his yellow eyes that studied her own.

“No,” he stated, “No, Sinne. This is not your fault.”

Her eyes moved away. “In the Dream, I-”

“The Dream is a mystery to all,” he stated. “What we see there, it’s a fabrication of something only the Pale Tree can understand. What you saw there, the poison. It wasn’t your doing.”

Somewhere in the distance a fern hound let out a long, low howl. Drawing both their eyes below to where a green leaf hut stood on the far side of Astorea. The noise was followed by a chorus of others, some young yips of pups who’d not yet learned to really howl. The scenery seemed to glow in the faint pink of dusk, a haze like enveloping the view that reminded Sinne strangely of the Dream.

When she’d gathered herself she spoke again. “In the dream,” Sinne stated. “Caithe and I fought a great beast. One she called a Nightmare.”

Serimon’s sharp intake of breath told her enough without having to look the Mendor in the eye. “A nightmare,” he stated. “You’re sure that it was Caithe who said that?”

Sinne shrugged. “I suppose,” she said. “I’ve never really met her, so all I know is that the one in the dream called herself Caithe.”

“And you fought this,” his voice paused as if he didn’t want to say it, “this nightmare. With her.”

Sinne nodded, though she wasn’t sure if Serimon saw it. In the corner of her eyes she could see him staring blankly off into the distance. A crunch of grass behind them ripped them from the thick silence that’d fallen. Sinne was the first to move, her body bolting upright as she spun. Again her hand flew to the empty space where her weapons once were. Again they came up empty. Though she didn’t need to use them anyways, because the figure that stood behind them was familiar.

She wasn’t translucent like in the Dream. Instead she stood whole, painted in dusk light as she met Sinne’s eyes with her own and nodded. Everything about Caithe was the same. From the dark green of her plant-like armor to the pale white of her hair and the gentle green of her skin. On her hip has two daggers of dark metal, fashioned to mix well with her gear. Though she didn’t reach for them now.

“Caithe,” the word left Sinne’s lips because Serimon could greet the firstborn.

“It’s good to see you awake,” she said. Her voice was gentle as she spoke, soothing like she was talking to a young child. Compared to the other two Sinne was essentially a child. Though she did not look or feel like one.

Serimon was the next to speak. “Sinne was telling me about her Dream,” He stated. “I must admit I have a great many questions for both of you.”

Caithe held Sinne’s eyes for several long moments. Searching for something within her face. Though she did not show a hint of whether she found it or not, instead she let out a long slow breath. Her eyes turned to Serimon.

“As you should,” She said. “Come, I’ve just spoken with the Pale Tree. We’ve got things to talk about.”

Sinne took a step forward, her hand hesitantly reaching out. She wanted to see if Caithe was real. If her flesh was as whole as Serimon or her own. The last time she’d seen her she’d been buried beneath the body of the dragon. Vanishing from view in root and leaf.

Instead Sinne asked, “What do we need to talk about?”

Caithe turned back, looking over her shoulder from where she was on the path. “We’ve to talk about your Dream.”