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Day Two 12:45pm

Rounding the corner, Ariel halted abruptly. Bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun, the stout entrance to the Marlowe Playhouse appeared innocuous. However, a sharp twinge in her head served as an unwelcome reminder of her troubling episode less than an hour earlier. The doors may have seemed serene, but she knew all too well that crossing their threshold might send her sprawling to the floor in agony. Escape seemed elusive.

Casting a quick look around for any other option and seeing none, Ariel drew in a skeptical breath and set out cautiously. She resolved that at the slightest hint of distress she'd retreat immediately. Yet she found herself drawing close to the formidable doors quicker than desired.

So far, so good...

Her hand hovered over the handle when an involuntary gasp escaped her lips—recoiling as though she had grazed a static-charged spiderweb, a tingle spread across her skin. Steeling herself with newfound resolve, Ariel clenched her jaw and reached out once more.

Though the eerie sensation persisted, Ariel's fingers now clasped the handle. Driven by her unease, she swiftly turned it and thrust herself through the doorway. Instantly, a surge of nausea overwhelmed her; her head hammered with renewed ferocity, but she was finally outside—hopefully past the worst of it.

Pausing to collect herself on the theater's stone steps, Ariel waited as both stomach and skull contended with their respective protests. The town continued its hustle and bustle before her; vendors had set up stalls in preparation for what seemed to be the Marlowe festival.

As Ariel observed with waning discomfort how meticulously everything was arranged, she internally noted how dear Mr. Marlowe must have been cherished.

Feeling gradually more composed, Ariel stood up and made her way toward the Inn. But something nagged at her—a thought tugging from a recess of her mind; Jasper had never asked for use of her abilities before now. Why this sudden change?

That troubling thought nearly sent her on a swift march back into the theater to seek answers—but one recollection of those daunting doors judicated that intent as she pondered over Jasper's motives.

Wrapped up in these musings, Ariel nudged open the Inn's door and navigated through its deserted lobby. She was just bypassing the dining hall when someone called out:

"Ariel?"

Caught off guard, she poked her head into the room to find Noah sitting alone in one corner.

"Oh! Hello," she replied with a forced smile—recalling that morning's uninspiring meal of cold rice.

"I thought it was you! Have you eaten anything?" Noah asked as he rose to welcome his company. Ariel raised her hands signaling 'no'—intent on indulging in some daydreams—but any pretense of disinterest crumbled as her stomach betrayed her with an ill-timed grumble.

Their shared laughter broke any remaining tension and although a touch reluctant, Ariel joined him at his table.

"Noah announced his intent to whip up something special, striding toward the kitchen with purpose.

"Thanks," Ariel conveyed, her head nodding in sincere appreciation.

Once solitude embraced her, a deep exhale fell from Ariel's lips as she slumped, resting her forehead on folded arms. An unexpected yawn escaped her; fatigue had claimed its due.

The ambiance of the room shifted to a cocoon of warmth. A single bird glided by, parting the soft glow of the afternoon through the windows. Silence pervaded the dining room, save for the distant symphony of kitchenware—a pot clanking somewhere afar. Unbeknownst to her, Ariel’s eyelids began their gradual descent.

Now ensconced in darkness, she stood in a room where dense velvet drapes sequestered the large windows. The opulent rug underfoot told tales of mystical theater—an ancient play immortalizing gods and demigods in its threads. Briefly, Ariel was ensnared by its narrative tapestry. Abruptly pulled back to reality by a sharp snap, her gaze darted upwards to find the source—a fireplace with a vivacious fire crackling within its hearth. Ariel acknowledged within herself,

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

This is but a dream.

Surprisingly absent was fear, replaced instead with a tinge of sorrow. A subdued rustle reached her ears. Opening her eyes anew, she discerned two stately armchairs before the fireplace—one hosting an occupant. A frisson of panic briefly gripped Ariel—experience taught her dreams could harbor danger.

The rustling persisted. Despite rising trepidation, Ariel felt an inexplicable pull towards the seated figure. As she drew closer, details emerged: an elderly man sat there, his features bathed in the fireside’s orangey flicker while he wept into his palms. A sympathetic ache bloomed within Ariel; moisture threatened the corners of her own eyes. Striving for composure, she dabbed away tears—they were not her grief to claim...

The man eventually lifted his face from his hands. His gaze met Ariel's—or so it seemed for a heart-stopping moment—as he blinked through shining trails left by tears now caught in the firelight's dance; eyes swollen from sorrow. Releasing a slow breath of relief, Ariel realized he looked not at her but through her—fixed on some haunting reminiscence.

No, she affirmed internally; he is submerged in memories.

At length, he withdrew from her presence and resumed his contemplation of the dwindling fire before rising fluidly to feed it another log. Settling back into his chair with calm resolve, he reached instinctively for the adjacent table where a solitary photo frame rested. Casting himself back into silent contemplation amidst soft sobs, he cradled the frame close to his heart.

Overcome with emotion yet drawn by an unknown force, Ariel moved behind him—a silent spectator peering over his shoulder. With delicate reverence, he lowered the image from his embrace and studied it: A young girl ornamented with sunlit curls and sparkling azure eyes beamed from within—her mirth immortalized against time.”

Recognition flickered in Ariel's gaze as she peered intently, her eyes slightly narrowed,

"Where have I crossed paths with that face before?"

The man covered the photograph with his hand and exhaled a sigh, his voice soft and soothing,

"Oh, my dear Kioko, what fate has befallen you?"

Whispering the name "Kioko..." to herself, Ariel racked her brain for a memory, a sliver of connection...

An epiphany hit her. She stepped back from the chair, surveying her surroundings. If this was her regular dream, then somewhere here should be...

"Jasper?" she called out. Strangely enough, Jasper, her dashing employer, was absent. Confusion clouded Ariel's thoughts as she glanced back at the elderly man. What conclusion was she to draw from this? Jasper's presence was a constant in her dreams, always there to guide...

Where could Jasper be?

Suddenly, her world began to blur at the edges; a tightness clenched Ariel's throat as waves of emotion overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down the man's face and joined with hers, an unstoppable flow this time. Then she felt a firm tug backwards. Someone's hand on her shoulder shook her gently; a voice, initially soft but gaining volume broke through,

"Ariel!"

Ariel snapped out of the reverie with a start. Her cheeks were damp with tears.

"Ariel? Are you okay? When I returned with your meal you were... just lying there," Noah said worriedly. His face was etched with concern as he leaned in close.

Disoriented and wiping away tears, Ariel managed to articulate,

"Oh... I'm fine," though it came out as an unsteady stammer.

Noah appeared skeptical,

"Ariel... what happened?"

Ariel opened her mouth but closed it quickly afterward. She couldn't possibly tell him about her prophetic dream causing such emotional turmoil.

She weighed her words cautiously; but honestly, how many believable excuses could one conjure on the spot?

"Allergies," she blurted out finally, hoping desperately that she didn't sound as foolish as she felt. Noah looked puzzled.

"Uh—terrible allergies. A sudden attack just hit me. Do you—do you have any..." Frantically scanning the vicinity for any excuse, her eyes landed on an adjacent table "...Magnolias around?"

Following Ariel's gaze to the vase filled with flowers, Noah queried,

"You have an allergy to Magnolias?"

With conviction now bolstering her improvization, Ariel affirmed,

"Yes," insistently pushing forward with the ruse, "Ever since childhood."

Noah regarded Ariel with newfound respect and slight awe,

"That's incredible commitment—from someone who truly adores Marlowe—to still attend his Festival of Magnolias despite such a severe allergic reaction," he commented admiringly.

Embarrassment heated Ariel's cheeks under his impression of devotion; but before it could overtake her composure entirely, she quickly decided to evacuate the scene,

"I should leave right now; being around them without necessity is imprudent," she stated while making for an abrupt exit.

Noah stood aside for Ariel to pass by; admiring eagerness still reflected in his eyes,

"Absolutely. I'll remind my grandparents not to display any in the dining area tomorrow."

A strained smile played on Ariel's lips as she departed,

"Thank you for that."

"Anytime at all, Ariel," he replied warmly as he waved goodbye—she vanished before he even realized it.