It was a long time until I awoke.

When I did, the memories of what had happened while not completely conscious were still there. Fresh and raw. I remembered shapes, mostly. They were detailed and textured, but the details and textures did not mean anything to me at the time, so I did not remember them.

Later, I began to distinguish sound from the visuals. I could smell again. The fragrant bundle of colors that loomed over me at all hours of the day, the wet air that rushed in whenever someone came to visit.

I recognized those things too, slowly. The flowers and the people. Though, I did not know what kinds of flowers or what kinds of people they were.

After a while, I wasn't sure how long, I could recognize that a woman often came to speak to me. The others that came, the ones who did not talk, were not this woman. Sometimes they were men.

The woman was often there, and even when I didn't think she was, her shape would come into frame and she would speak to me. I learned what her face looked like. Thick eyebrows, thin lips, dotted nose. I would check to see if she had them whenever she visited. She always did.

I don't know how long it took, but eventually, some of the words she spoke began to hold meaning—things like trees, doors, and pillows. I knew them. It took longer to recognize the other words. Afraid, upset, ashamed. And even longer before I recognized the woman's name. Surreal.

That was when my memories of things before the Ritual began to make sense. When I began to worry about Keeper and Wanderer. It was a painful stretch of time before I could speak again. I groaned and babbled frantically. Surreal did her best to calm me down but there was no way to convince me that I belonged in that room. In that bed.

It was empty, there were no windows, the only light came from the ceiling. A dull glow. My bed was close to the ground, and I realized it was to stop me from hurting myself when I rolled off. The flowers were changed from time to time, I learned that Surreal would go out to pick them. The one I liked the most was shaped like a butterfly and smelled of mint. It reminded me of my life outside the room.

The first thing I tried with my memories returned was to Repair. Not only did it fail to heal me, it drained my energy in the process. Whenever I tried it, I was too tired to open my eyes for the rest of the day. Surreal would talk to me much less on those days, so I stopped trying entirely.

It must have been months before I could ask Surreal questions. "What day is it?" I would often ask. She would tell me it was a nice one. "Where is Keeper? Where is Wanderer?" and she would tell me that they had left.

I did not like that. I complained and groaned. I was The Dream Eater, let me leave, I would say. She only told me to rest a little while longer.

It was often after the times I asked lots of questions, when it would get hot. The blankets and the pillows were too warm. I threw them across the room, laying in the bed, teeth chattering. I dreamt of talks around the campfire with Keeper and Wanderer. I had nightmares too.

"You can't even learn Diction? That's pathetic. I look forward to seeing you rot," Keeper would say.

"You saved my life once and expect me to repay you? You are not worthy of my time," Wanderer would say.

On the mornings after nights such as those, Surreal would come into my room, blot the sweat off my brow, and speak to me. We had conversations of many things, though words were often the focus.

One day, she asked me, "What is your favorite word?"

"I don't know. I don't want to pick."

She smiled. "That is okay. You do not have to, Ferrowill. Nothing in this world is as definite as it would seem."

"Good," I said, and sat there a moment. "It definitely isn't definite, my favorite word."

"A bold statement. What if one day, you woke up and found yourself quite fond of definite?"

"Would that happen?" I winced as soon as I'd asked the question. My head pounded like the royal guard pounding on the front door.

Surreal's hand came to rest on my own, pulling it gently away from my forehead. "It is possible. Words are mysterious things. Do you think you might eventually pick a favorite word?"

"Maybe. It's possible."

"Do you think it might change? From day to day."

"It is possible," I muttered. My eyes had gone heavy and my head found its place back on the pillow.

It wasn't much later that Surreal told me what had happened during the Ritual. Indeed, she was right. Something had gone very wrong. It was all cosmic problems, the sort I couldn't understand. I wondered if it had to do with my current mental state, that the words she spoke didn't make any sense, or if I'd never known the words to begin with.

She also told me that I was sick. Semantically sick, whatever that meant. I asked her how long I'd been sick for, how long I'd been in that room. She would not tell me.

"Do you like it here, Ferrowill?"

"No. I do not. I hate it here. More than anything. I hate this room. I hate the food. I hate the time I've wasted away sleeping in this bed. Surreal." I looked to her.

"Yes?"

"I hate it."

She nodded. "I know. Soon, it will all be over. Soon."

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After that night, Surreal was gone a long time. Maybe months, maybe only a few days. But she did not visit to bring me food, she did not visit to talk. Each time I woke, the plates were set on a table that reached over my lap. Sometimes, I would see one of the other Seers leaving but most of the time I was alone.

When Surreal was gone, the food was always soup. Red soup. It tasted like blood with spices and herbs, I imagined that's what it was. I missed the variety she brought, I hadn't even noticed it until it was gone. For many nights, I wished Surreal would return, holding a plate of meats and breads and cheeses, speaking to me about language and the shape of words.

Soon, I was able to move again.

The first time I tried walking, one of the Seers found me crumpled on the floor. He dragged me to my bed and said something about resting. It was of little importance to me, and from then on I crawled out of my bed every day. I would lean against the wall, take a few steps, and the room would spin. It was impossible to keep balance when that happened, and I fell. Over and over.

By the time I could stand without the wall's aid, Surreal returned.

I asked many times why she had left, even when the headaches came, even when I wished I did not have to ask any more questions. She never answered, except with vague non-answers. "Do not worry so much," and, "I only act in your best interest, Ferrowill."

Our conversations of language became a daily occurrence. At times I no longer wished to speak about words, but Surreal was adamant.

"Did you know the Seers have their own language?" she said one day. "It is simple to learn, they believe it should be adopted throughout The Realm. The one we have now is needlessly complex, have you noticed?"

I shook my head.

"There are many different words for the same things. The rules are inconsistent. The speaking of it takes far too long, it could be much quicker."

"Must it be quicker?" The question barely hurt to ask.

Surreal smiled. She did not answer with words, but her expression communicated the idea to me well enough. Quick is the enemy of nuance.

At some point, Surreal began to spend the entire day by my side. When I awoke she was sitting in the middle of the room, and when I slept it would often happen while we conversed of context and conjugation.

In the day, she would let me hold her arm when I walked, and once that was easy, she began to teach me to dance. I had never danced before, nor did I hold much interest. "But it too is a method of communication, Ferrowill. If you know how to move your body, you can be whomever you wish to be."

I was finally beginning to feel like a human again. And that was when Surreal taught me of Diction.

"You have been learning all this time, really." She sat next to me on the bed. "Do you remember the words I gave you?"

"Who are you?" I asked.

She gave a pitying smile. "Yes, those ones. How do they feel?"

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. "They feel… smoother than the other questions."

"That is because they are. You are practiced with them. Can you think of something else you are practiced with?"

"As of right now? No. Walking, maybe. I've gotten lots of practice with that recently. Though I'm still not as good as I used to be." Moving in general. It all used to feel so fluid.

"You judge yourself too harshly, Ferrowill. It is important to appreciate your effort over this period of time. You have not only relearned, but you have rebuilt your understanding of communication from nothing. It is all fresh to you, your mind is open."

"And that's a good thing?"

Surreal stared at me a moment. "Nonetheless, walking will work. Stand up, and think of the learning you've done until this point."

I stood, feeling a little uneasy, yet not entirely certain why.

"Now, I want you to close your eyes and think of the act of walking. I want you to picture that in your head."

My eyes closed and the movements played out in my head.

"Again," she said.

I did it again, walking with my mind, and not with my limbs.

"Again, concentrate on how many steps you will take. Make it specific. You know how to walk, so play it out perfectly in your head. Make certain you know what will happen when you decide to move."

I breathed deeply and took three steps in my head. Only three. I felt my muscles twitch in anticipation, I felt the cold floor against my soles, I felt the air push back on my face as I moved.

"Now say the word which encapsulates this action."

"Step." I said. And my body began to move on its own. I took three steps, without any concentration required, like I was used to walking. Without thinking about it.

I looked to Surreal, my eyes widening and a dumb grin plastered across my face.

She raised her eyebrows and nudged her chin at me. "Do it again."

"Step." And my feet moved with the ease of my former self. No, they moved far more easily. I'd never before walked with such efficiency, with such effortlessness.

"That is your Diction, Ferrowill. Any action a being can fathom, any outcomes one might imagine, you can make them reproducible through this process. It is an invaluable skill."

It felt like magic.

Surreal rose from the bed and wrapped her arms around me. The hug took me by surprise but I was able to return to being human because of her, because of Surreal. I sunk into her arms.

"You have done well, Ferrowill. Are you not glad to have put in all this effort? To have spent all this time?"

My face stiffened. Glad? To have been stuck in a room for months… maybe years? How could I possibly be glad about such a thing?

I pushed Surreal away from me, my hands on her shoulders. "All of this time to learn that? Are you kidding me? No, I'm not glad at all. I'd have never even attempted the Ritual if I knew this were a possibility."

The relief washed away from her face. She swallowed and pursed her lips. "I ought to tell you," she began.

"Tell me what?"

"It is just… the Seers would not have allowed you to learn it."

I felt my heart beat faster. "What do you mean? Was that not the purpose of the Ritual?"

"Not entirely." She was fidgeting now. "It is both a test and the method in which Diction is most commonly learnt. The test, they would have you fail. They were planning it the entire time."

"Have me fail? Are those bastards the reason it went wrong? Did they sabotage it to—"

"No, Ferrowill. No." Her eyes began to well up. "They'd have sent you off after you failed, refused you to ever learn Diction. You'd have never been able to grow strong enough to defeat the Nine. You'd have died, or given up and remained stuck in The Realm all your life."

"What… are you talking about?"

"There was no other way they'd have let me spend so much time with you." Her words sputtered out. "I am sorry, Ferrowill. It was the only way. I know you hated it. I know. I am sorry."