Atop a flat plane stand its host, a starry-eyed young woman who happens to be a stranger to this world and their visitor, one who’s accompanied by great might and potential. Several constellations he had never seen before paint the skies above, along with one lone ring hovering along it. Its black presence along with the rainbow aura, adds some sort of familiar and imposing beauty.

The platform holding them up above the empty abyss located beneath them is decorated in marble. Marble columns were laid out on the edge of the cold and metallic platform. Black, pink, and purple marks of script indecipherable to Shen plague the collums almost as if they were corrupting them.

The pink-haired woman inviting Shen to offer answers to his questions is wearing a long white dress with golden ruffled sleeves. A golden ribbon is tied around her waist into a small bow. She’s also wearing black Victorian boots. The only things that feel a little dissonant to her outfit are the paint splotches wrapping around her waist all the way to her right shoulder.

“I apologize. Let me introduce myself,” she says with a soothing tone and incredible grace. “You may refer to me as Viatrix. I exist solely to keep a record of what I set my eyes on, and I wish to aid you in choosing your journey like I have many others.”

Now that he’s taking a look at her face, the long braid lying on her left shoulder, along with the flowery pattern eyes, are falling into focus. Their beauty speaks of graceful curiosity, slightly differing from Nikolay’s adventurous curiosity. Every person who has truly left an impression on him has eyes that differ from the average person. Mirage, though having normal human eyes, had ones that could devour just about anyone daring to impart any feelings of vulnerability.

“Have I spoken out of turn? Are my words not coming across in your tongue?”

“No, I’m sorry! I was just confused about where I am,” he replies.

She sighs, relieved at the lack of a language barrier. “Don’t let yourself be bothered by my domain. Think of it as a vivid dream. I believe it to be far wiser to stray from details and focus on us conversing.”

“Well then… I guess I’ll start off with introducing myself,” he says. “I’m Shen. 19 years old. I don’t really possess a grand purpose or duty. I’m honestly hoping you could help me with that.”

“We can only talk,” she claims. “I cannot tell you how to live your life and how you ought to act, however, I can offer you some insight and advice, yet I refuse to set you on a path you yourself didn’t choose. This interaction alone strays from my philosophy as an observer, so I vow to keep this conversation as brief as possible.”

Her words are rather flowery, and her sentences needlessly long.

“You likely would prefer to be seated, am I correct?”

Somehow, a throne is located right behind her as if it had always been there, while a comfortable couch is waiting for Shen to come to rest.

“So you’re some sort of patron saint, I guess? Like some sort of Saint Christopher?” he asks.

“Unfortunately I am not well-versed with mythology deriding from your place of origin, but I surmise these ‘patron saints’ are akin to protectors,” she answers. “Saint Christopher likely is your protector of voyage?” she asks.

“Something like that…”

“But I don’t know what I should do. All these other Dream Catchers are full of hopes and aspirations for something. Bell wishes for solace, Calypso for warmth, Mirage for research… Schmidt and Smoker likely also have their own lives and their own yearnings, but I don’t have anything like that. I do have Nikolay, but centering my life around my love for him doesn’t feel right. He wouldn’t want that anyway.”

“There lies no shame in uncertainty. You are allowed to possess no grand purpose nor a final goal,” she claims.

“If you’re open to talking about yourself, please do. We may reach a satisfactory conclusion.”

“Where do I even start?” he asks himself. He hasn’t really spent a lot of time reflecting on his actions or his lack thereof. Shen has spent his life dancing to the tune of his parents. The remaining adults that were a part of his life were likely to just order him around as well. It wasn’t until he met Nikolay that he truly began to ponder about what he wants. His wants and needs weren’t ever a priority. He just had to obey.

“I guess… If you don’t mind, I’ll tell you… whatever comes to mind, I guess?”

She nods.

“I sometimes feel like I don’t remember anything at all. So much of my life has just gone by with little control over it. I never really dressed the way I wanted to. I never had haircuts I ever liked. I never picked subjects I cared about. I never had a choice in friends. I never had a choice…”

“I’m not sure you’re aware of just how fickle friendships can be considering you… I don’t know. Forget what I said,” he says while twiddling his thumbs.

“Point is, friendships don’t last when you’re a kid. You just kinda have them or don’t. I mostly didn’t. So, I held onto the few friendships I had. Back in kindergarten I had a friend who just suddenly stopped talking to me. I probably said or did something stupid like I always do, but I really wanted to be friends with him. I kind of tried to apologize by writing a letter but I could only spell out my name. He just kept ignoring me even when we were way older. I kept thinking about how cool it would be if we just talked again up until recently.”

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“That does sound rather lonesome, yet I understand that most relationships are temporary. Few last more than a lifetime. Many end before they come into full bloom. However, you have plenty of time ahead of you. You’re free to bond with whoever reciprocates your warmth. Keep going.”

She expectantly awaits his next story as Shen continues to dwell on her last sentence. Where is he going? Where should he head to? Most importantly, how would that affect him and Nikolay?

“My father is an asshole to the core. He lacks tact, is a violent bastard who should have died at birth, a drunkard who’s never dependable… He’s so quick to lash out yet such a fucking coward that he’d never fight back against anyone with power, authority, or strength. When I was six, his so-called love manifested in hitting me so hard I hit the wall, and I’m pretty sure he gave me a concussion. Why? Because I’d gone missing for a few hours! What do you do when you find your missing child? You obviously beat the shit out of them!”

“I cannot resonate with your experiences, but you’re not unlike the many characters I have come across. Beaten, battered, and crushed by your own gene donors sounds dreadful. Like you, they were uncertain and fearful, with no clear motive or direction. They often were unwilling participants in society, drifting along with no control of their own. To be beaten into submission…”

She sighs.

“There are days where I can resonate with them. I am bound to this space without reason. Though I cannot claim that I had been bruised and battered, I do drift through time, waiting to stumble upon someone I can invite. Chatting with you as I do now isn’t entirely within my control.”

“Please continue.”

“I once had to comfort my mother because she was throwing another tantrum. Apparently, she had had enough of my father and I constantly disrespecting her and had a meltdown. She then kept raving about how she’s a bad person and that we always want her to just disappear and go away. Would she comfort me when I cried? Nope. Never! Too self-centered! When I told her about getting bullied by some classmates, she’d tell me it’s because I’m related to her. When I told her about teachers being unfair, she told me that it’s because they hate her. When I came home with bad grades, it was all about how I was trying to spite her. Me, me, me! Look at me! I’m the victim!”

“You were too kind. You’ve showcased far more patience and grace than she has as your caretaker. Take that with pride.”

“Please go on.”

Once again, she’s pushing him to continue talking about his experiences. Her answers aren’t offering a lot of substance, yet talking with her does seem a little therapeutic.

“Oh, there’s one weird moment that just came to me. There was this teacher I had, some old lady, who was just a few years away from retirement. She promised to bring us some sort of homemade fruit curd if we all were good kids. If I remember correctly, she left to get some more of her curd. She likely stored it in the teacher's lounge, considering she wasn’t away for long. The only request she had was telling us to be quiet, or else you wouldn’t get anything.

However, there was this one kid that forgot to bring a bowl so he was asking me if we could share mine. Of course, I said yes, even though he was kind of bullying me quite often. But she came back just as I was telling him that I didn’t mind sharing my bowl. She told me that I’m not getting anything. You know, back then, I would have just cried, but for some reason I didn’t. I couldn’t quite wrap my head around why she would punish me. I was always the kid who had done all assignments with good grades, amazing discipline, and incredible respect. How come the one and only time I act out of turn, I get punished? It made no sense, considering many kids would be a massive headache during lessons all the time, and they got away with it scot-free. That always seemed to happen to me. Protecting some kid from getting bullied, reading ahead in class, fighting back against bullies…”

“Even your authority figures are prone to acting irrationally. Such rigidity benefits only those trying to preserve the peace. You dared to differ from the others and were judged for it,” she says.

“How do you fare now? Your parents seem to be people you aren’t particularly fond of. Do you share bonds with others? Any obligations that are tying you to them? Family you have found through effort and cultivation?”

“My job was shit, so that never worked out. None of the people working there were ever my age. Even if or when they were, they’d leave before I could make friends with them or just be too catty, bullying each other like a vapid group of popular kids.

I never made friends at uni. Sure, there were a few group chats and all that. But all that ever happened was an exchange of notes. Maybe some partying for all those who hadn’t dropped out yet. I think one guy tried to ask me out but I fumbled that somehow.

Other than that. People would initiate friendships, but I never could do it myself. I don’t think I ever tried hard enough…”

“Then why not try again?” she inquires.

“Again? I never tried to begin with…”

“Back in kindergarten, you had attempted to mend that friendship. I am certain that you have done so again and again.”

Her words offer a little comfort, yet they’re not enough to encourage him to try again.

“I don’t know… I guess I did talk to a lot of people these past few months. But I couldn’t have done that without Nikolay. I wouldn’t have done anything without him. I can’t understand-”

“Yet you wish to understand them,” she interjects. “Could it be that you yearn to learn more about others?”

“I don’t know… The past few months have been fun. Maybe that’s it?”

“Perhaps. I’ve had a peek at your interactions with these people you call Dream Catchers. Your friend appeared to be rather uninterested and incredibly cautious, yet you seemed far more approachable and invested than he ever did.”

A bell tolls, signaling the end of their little conversation.

“Our time is limited as are the amount of answers I can hand out to you. I wish I could indulge you for a little longer. I wish to learn a little more about you the same way you wish to understand others. I believe a certain beauty lies in discovering what lies behind the ego of not only strangers but also your own.”

Rumbles, bangs, and thunder almost conceal her last words. The entire conversation has faded into oblivion, as has his memory of their meeting. Yet, somehow, through sheer will, he allows his memories to persist.

“Beauty? Ego?” he mumbles to himself, half-asleep. He feels some sort of force trying to weigh on his eyelids while attempting to take his memory.

“I guess she’s right. The Beauty of Ego… I’ve been meeting all these people because of Nikolay and I do want to stick with him. I’ll get to meet many more when we’re together. I think I want to meet many more people. I want to meet her again. And I want to know these people even more.”