Ori found himself asleep, experiencing his first moment of true lucidity within dreams since the fifth trial. He was amazed at how much time had passed since then. For a moment, he wondered about his body – wasn't he still on a bench with Poppy wrapped around his right arm? Although he could force himself awake, the rules and chronology of the dreaming world differed vastly from the waking world. When he forced himself awake, he'd often wake up naturally anyway with his curtailed dreaming time making no difference in reality.
So, he set aside those concerns, focusing on maximising his constructive dreaming time. For long moments, the dream reflected the soft warmth of Poppy’s presence. He was still confused about what was happening and his feelings towards it, but he wasn’t foolish enough to reflexively push her away out of fear or insecurity. However, a growing seed of guilt emerged, which he, an adept lucid dreamer, visualised and followed to its source.
He travelled the thread towards a gaping crater. “Sera,” Ori said softly, landing beside the crater's edge. The ground resembled the moon's surface – ash grey and bone dry. The sky was stark black, speckled with lonely stars, while the wind seemed to emanate constantly from the sun.
He didn’t know what this signified, but instinct warned of uncertainty and danger beyond the crater's lip. He listened to it, circling the edge, planning his next steps.
Then, Ori caught sight of another glittering thread in the cosmic distance, shimmering in colours that seemed impossible in this monotone realm. Following the thread, he crossed the boundary between astral universes. It took time and considerable effort, each step larger and steeper than the last until suddenly, he was no longer in his dream.
He found himself in meadows of pink and lilac ferns covering gently rolling hills. The wind was wild and the sky rippled in auroral greens and pinks. Ori walked through it all, feeling oddly at home despite knowing this dream came from another mind. Approaching the centre, he saw a familiar glowing dot circling a statue or sculpture of…
“Ori?!” A voice he had dearly missed gasped his name.
“Hi Freya,” Ori said, his astral form smiling. Freya, the Aurora Sprite, zoomed towards him, crossing the distance in a blink. “It’s really you, isn’t it?”
“Of course, it’s me. What are you doing here? How are you here?” Freya asked, circling him. “And wild luck! What have you been through? I’ve had huge rushes of Peritia from you, which should have been impossible during the trial. But seeing you now, goodness, just how much trouble have you gotten into, Ori?” she gushed.
“Slow down. I’m just as confused as you, but a lot's happened. I’ll tell you everything, but first, I need to know if you're alright. I’ve been in this trial much longer than I wanted and-”
“It’s fine. With some of the Peritia you sent, I added a point to vitality, giving me a few more weeks, even more because I’m hibernating,” Freya said. Ori’s shoulders sagged in relief, stress lifting. “Ori, are you alright?” she asked, zooming closer.
“Yeah, or at least, I will be. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that you were okay and that we have a bit more time.” He chuckled. “I wish I could share my Page of Fate with you; you won’t believe half of what's happened since I entered the Crucible.”
“Ori, I went from fifteen to sixty-seven per cent towards my Peritia requirement. You better have a good explanation for how you managed that,” Freya said, her sternness unable to mask her joy and concern.
----------------------------------------
“Wild luck!” Freya exclaimed. “Were you really going to attempt a double transmutation without any aid AS A MORTAL!?” Her tiny form screeched, emphasising the last three words. Hours of Dreamtime had flown by while Ori showed as much as told Freya of his exploits within the Crucible.
He would have loved to say Freya took it all in her stride, but he chuckled again at her fussy exasperation, constant admonishments, and overall alarm. In another context, one might have found such a presence stuffy and stifling, but the depth of care and pride it often masked was a balm Ori hadn’t realised he needed. “No, you are beyond wild luck. I’d be dizzy just hearing about your streak of luck if it weren’t for our circumstances. If I could knock some sense into your head with a wooden spoon, I would. Now listen, Ori, I STRONGLY advise you ask for assistance from that Elven Queen, whose intentions I’m sure are entirely pure and chaste, before attempting the Quicken Perception transmutation. One, that spell has the potential to turn you into a gibbering vegetable if you do it wrong. Two, she likely has a wealth of resources and experience you could benefit from, potentially maximising your gains.”
“Do you really think this trial is about sex magic?” Ori asked, feigning distraction while taking petty pleasure in riling up his overly uptight familiar.
She growled, reigning in her frustration, and replied slowly, as if stating the obvious. “She’s a moon elf; of course, this trial is about sex magic. Now, concentrate.”
“Fine, I’ll let her know what’s what. Whether she offers any help will be up to her,” Ori conceded. Though he had joked about being distracted by it, the idea that Harriet needed him for some sort of magical sex seemed so far-fetched he found it hard to take Freya’s insistence seriously. Freya hadn’t seen Harriet after all, a woman so intimidatingly, devastatingly attractive that he would have instinctively avoided her had she been someone he’d known back on Earth.
“You are such a boy. Put your pride away and seize this opportunity just like you did with the rest.”
Ori sobered, her words suddenly cutting through his false front of unconcern. “Alright,” he nodded after a long moment, “So, are you going to tell me how I'm here? How do I know you're real? I mean, aren’t you the pervy dream expert?”
“Ori,” Freya said, more clipped than usual. “Call me a pervy dream voyeur or ANY combination of those words one more time, and I swear, when I evolve, I’ll slap you so hard with my new hands, you’ll be seeing stars.”
“I’m sorry, okay, okay!” Ori laughed, as the prismatic sprite buzzed intensely near his face.
“Boys!” Freya exclaimed in a way that caused Ori to giggle. “Well, isn’t it obvious? Pull up your memory from the divination and focus on your spell list, and I’ll show you.”
Classes and Spell Constellations
None
None
Core (0/0)
None
Inner (0/0)
None
Outer (5)
Arcane Hand* **
Spectral Voice* **
Dreamwalking*
Request Divination* **
Learn by Heart* **
(*familiar bond)
( ** Mana requirement not met)
“Those were the spells you got from our familiar pact, you’ll have these spells and knowledge forever, you're welcome. You haven’t learnt any enchanting spells yet, have you? And no, those transmutations don’t count.”
“No, I don’t think so. And thank you.”
“Very well, this is what it should look like now based on everything you’ve told me;”
Classes and Spell Constellations
White Mage (Journeyman)
Enchanter (Apprentice)
2/5
??/??
Core (0/??)
None
Inner (0/??)
None
Outer (10)
Death Ward **
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Purifying Light **
Light Orb **
Lesser Regeneration **
Cure Wounds **
Arcane Hand* **
Spectral Voice* **
Dreamwalking*
Request Divination* **
Learn by Heart* **
(* familiar bond)
( ** Mana requirement not met)
“As you can see, Dreamwalking is the only spell you can cast, with just enough Mana to do so even though you have no Mana Nexus.” Freya continued, before displaying the full description of the Spell.
> Spell: Dreamwalking
>
> Type: Active, Mind, Dream
>
> Characteristic Requirements: Wisdom: ≥10, Spirit: ≥10, Will: ≥90
>
> Other Requirements: Dream-aspected affinity, Lucid Dreaming
>
> Effects: Enables the user to enter, navigate, and interact with the dreams of others, or pull others into their own dreamscapes.
>
> Description: Dreamwalking allows the user to transcend the boundaries of their subconscious and enter the dreams of others. This spell not only enables the caster to navigate these dreamscapes but also to interact with them or their denizens, potentially influencing the course of the dream, the target's mental state, gathering information, or facilitating extraplanar communication.
>
> Notes: Dreamwalking requires the user to enter a state of sleep or deep meditation before activating the ability via their subconscious, though advanced practitioners may accomplish this through waking dreams. The user's consciousness then transcends their mind, journeying into the dreamscape of another. This process demands moderate levels of wisdom and spirit, and high levels of will, as it involves navigating the complex and often unpredictable astral demiplane. The ability to interact within the dream is contingent upon the user's skill and the target's mental defences. While Dreamwalking offers profound insights and unique interaction capabilities, it also poses risks such as getting lost within the dreamscape, encountering countermeasures by experienced Awakened, or encountering ancient entities in the spaces between dreams. Mastery of Lucid Dreaming and an advanced understanding of Astral Projection are essential to mitigate these risks.
“I believe this was the first spell you cast on your own, yes? That demon bitch you subconsciously dragged into your dream in one of the trials?” Freya said.
“Yeah, though I didn’t know it until afterwards.”
“Yes, well, that is significant as it suggests some degree of natural talent. Though you need to be more careful and more deliberate with your actions in the dreaming, and not for the reasons you think!”
“How so?” Ori wondered.
“You're like a baby leviathan, like those old slumbering entities in the deep astral. The ones old dreamwalkers tell stories of surviving, but never vanquishing. You are sapient, yes, which is more than I can say for the majority of those creatures, but you're still a child lacking self-awareness and control. That you can so easily pull a greater demon into your dreams without even trying…” Freya shuddered. “Even if she may have been willing, that kind of power, if you had ill intentions, is terrifying.”
Thinking briefly about the encounter, Ori could only begin to understand. “Okay, I think I kind of understand. Still, haven’t I been sent seven hundred years back in time? Wouldn’t we need to be in the same timeframe for this to make sense? Else, why couldn’t I contact you in the past or some other date?”
“Perhaps with more control and intent, you could? But your subconscious most likely reached out to the me from the current time of your trial by following our bond. Additionally, if I were to die, for example, my soul departing this body, reaching me would take a whole magnitude more skill and intent.”
“Wait, so it is possible to find and speak with dead people through dreams?”
“I said almost exactly the opposite! How you got this from that... spirits! I’ll never understand.”
“You said it was a lot harder but still possible? Right?” Ori pressed.
Freya sighed. “She weaponised her soul, Ori, that action came with a cost and you need to accept that it might not be possible-” Lightning raced across the upper atmosphere of the dreamscape, the auroral greens and pinks turning a celestial gold and silver. Ori simply stood, fists clenched, jaw tight, his resolve invariant while Freya paused her words of caution and observed.
“Very well. Yes, for you, through the dreaming might be the best way in the future. But right now, we both don’t know enough about souls, or about the Ethereal Realm to make the attempt.”
“Then what’s next?” Ori asked, impatience bleeding into his voice.
“If I weren’t your familiar, I’d have run far, far away. Here, you’re too dangerous to everyone around you. You need to learn control. But that will be a matter for another dream.”
Ori sighed. “My dream is ending.”
“Seems like it. Now, do you remember what I told you?”
“Yeah, yes! Okay, I will ask Harriet for help,” Ori relented after Freya flew uncomfortably close to his eyes and buzzed, “What about Poppy?”
“What about Poppy?”
“I don’t know. Maybe some advice on what to do?”
“No,” Freya said firmly.
“No?”
“Your problem, you figure it out.”
“But if the Queen—”
Freya giggled, “I would feel bad for you if you didn’t have preposterous, wild luck. My bet is on you coming out of this all smug and annoying when all is said and done. So I’ll savour these moments of you floundering to tide me over when you eventually become insufferable.”
“Whatever, pervy—” Ori started.
“If you finish that sentence I will hit you,” Freya said with a vicious calmness that told Ori he had perhaps pushed her as far as she would go for one dream.
“Anyway, what's that sculpture you've been working on?” Ori asked smoothly.
“Also, no.” Freya answered.
“What? Really?”
“It is my Somaform. It’s unfinished and not for your eyes.”
“What’s a Somaform?”
“When a non-corporeal being evolves with a chance to take a physical form, they can create a guide or template in preparation, or else it is left to fate. With little else to do during hibernation and with all the Peritia…”
“So, this is what you want to look like when you evolve? When you become a Pixie?” Ori asked, a smile growing at the realisation Freya was starting to hope again.
“Maybe, still deciding, and wipe away that dirty smirk, it’s rude to stare!”
"Fine, okay, okay!" Ori acquiesced, turning away from the distant sculpture upon Freya insistance. Though not before he caught a brief glimpse of its pristine form; a figure crafted from living marble depicting a nude woman with diaphanous butterfly wings glimmering in the dreamlight – an image now forever seared into Ori's memory.
“Also, do not forget, you have guest rights which should mean something. But do not abuse it, and offer fair exchange when able.”
“Alright,” Ori said, somewhat confused.
“Also, we did something to our bond. It's no longer just a familiar bond, not quite a soul bond either. We should fix that soon.”
“Okay.”
“Do the Split Mind transmutation first.”
“Really?” Ori asked.
“Yes, it’s relatively safe with high enough Will, and it’ll make the other transmutations easier and safer.”
“Okay.”
“Also, just be yourself with the Queen and the elves. No, actually, forget what I just said; your normal self is all childish and insufferable. Be your best self, become that self we talked about outside of the armoury.”
“Okay,” Ori smiled, enjoying the feeling of being fussed over. “And what about yourself? Will you be okay?”
“I’m in hibernation, so dreams run differently. Unfortunately for me, when you next dreamwalk and find me, for me, it’ll be like no time has passed at all.” She said forlornly.
“Right. Well, see you in a minute then.” Ori smirked.
“Yes, else I’ll await your return from the Crucible. Good luck Ori.”
----------------------------------------
Staring at a ceiling not quite familiar enough to ease the sudden shock of dislocation, Ori rose to find he was back in his suite. The morning sunlight cast rays across the pillows as he wondered just how he had made it back to his room last night.
"Nope, I'm not going to get embarrassed over being carried to bed like a child," Ori groaned to himself, pondering whether Poppy had fireman carried or princess carried him back to his room. "It was magic, yeah, she probably magicked me back to my room," he finally decided.
In the drafting workshop, Ori prepared himself, reviewing the list of transmutations and the spell instructions. He practised realigning the dense ambient mana, giving it intent, before shaping it into the spell forms and bringing the process to the verge of casting before releasing, over and over again. Meanwhile, he pushed on his Mana Sight, pouring more of his focus into expanding the breadth of his awareness so that he could now sense well beyond the edge of his peripheral vision.
Freed from the pending worry and guilt of Freya’s situation, Ori lost himself in this cycle of training, entering a flow state that lasted until a knock brought Harriet and a dining cart of foods into the room.
He was still shocked by her beauty. Worse, the effect seemed to intensify every time he saw her. Even the delicious aromas of the food were secondary to her dark navy hair, her intense blue eyes, and uncertain smile. She stood beside the cart, wearing a hemp dress in a style Ori figured was popular for this culture and moment in time. Unwilling to make it weirder than it already was, Ori stood, his brain currently not capable of speaking appropriate words or performing less awkward actions.
“As promised, lunch,” Harriet announced. “It would do me a favour if you could try these, just a spoon from each of these pots here.”
"Sure. And hi, Harriet."
“Oh, my manners. Good luncheon, Ori.”
“Should I grab another chair? I mean, if you’d like to join me so we can eat together?”
“Oh. A chair would be nice, but I cannot eat with you. You see, I spend most of the time tasting and being around food while I cook, so I’m rarely hungry when it comes to serving.”
“Ah,” Ori said.
“Also, I find myself oddly nervous,” Harriet admitted in almost a whisper.
“Really?”
“You’re my first human guest; this has been my first meaningful challenge in a long while as far as my crafts are concerned,” Harriet continued.
“Okay then, well now I’m feeling the pressure of being the representative for the entire human race’s sense of taste,” Ori laughed, his words carrying a hint of nerves.
The food was delicious, beginning with pots designed to calibrate Ori's senses of taste. Each dish was an exploration of elven cuisine, yet tailored for human palates. Harriet provided a stream of chef commentary and guest instructions. Ori was impressed by her earnest intensity and the value she placed on his feedback, which was mostly positive, though with a few exceptions.
The first pot contained a shimmering broth with iridescent leaves and zesty, citrusy ferns, each releasing a different essence, from sweet floral notes to an earthy savoury flavour. "This is mad, I’m literally eating a magical forest," Ori said. He then sampled a steaming, freshly grilled meat, faintly seasoned with luminescent herbs, which fell off the bone, melting in his mouth with a burst of umami.
The pastries were equally unusual, one changing flavour with each bite, another filled with humming cheese, and a spicy one that left a crackling, tingling sensation akin to popping candy. "That's definitely a surprise," he chuckled. While thoughts of Poppy, and potentially broaching the topic with the Queen were on his mind, neither the opportunity nor the desire to do so appeared during their meal, choosing instead to give the entirety of his attention to the meal and the person who cooked it.
“Yes, I can get quite experimental when in the mood. How has it been so far?”
“Amazing, I can’t imagine eating like this every lunch. Heston Blumenthal has nothing on you.”
“Who?”
“Just the greatest chef I knew. Or was the greatest,” Ori said, internally rolling his eyes at just how lame that sounded.
“Oh Ori, flattery will get you everywhere.”
“But really, I mean it, this was amazing. I feel…” Ori began, his voice initially joyful until it faltered. “Seriously?” he cursed at himself as his body started to cry involuntarily. Was a few moments of genuine care and attention all that was needed to break him? Vexed, Ori stood, clamping down on the flood of self-pity before turning away from the Queen who watched in concern. He felt like a child as he rubbed watery eyes with his sleeve, ashamed at his lack of emotional control. “I’m really grateful, Harriet, more than you could know.”
A long stretch of silence followed before Ori turned, dreading what he would see. Pity? Shame? Hurt? He had just cried over her food after all. Indifference? Or worse, compassion? When he finally caught her eyes, some of all those emotions could be seen within, but prime amongst them was a resolve that surprised and confused him.
“If I am to leave my crown outside the door, then it would only be fair if the great Summoned Hero, Saviour of Astor would leave his laurels there too. You're a mortal man who has been through much. Momentarily showing as much is no weakness, not in this room, not with me.”
“Okay.” Ori’s voice was horse, as he sat down with a huff. “Okay.” He repeated, this time nodding to himself, his thoughts and emotions settling, his focus and edge sharpening, his purpose and goals clear. “Well, I have something to ask, you see, I’m about to do something really stupid.”