For a moment, everything was peaceful. Then Soral found himself standing in a bizarre place that made no sense. First of all, he was standing on a path that was upside-down. He could feel gravity pulling him downwards, but he didn’t fall, even when he moved. Below him was a sky full of mixed hues like sunset with a few more colors. Above him was the same, but the colors were in a slightly different order.

As for the path itself, it looked almost as if it was made from glass, hanging from nothing, and attached to nothing on either side. The path wound, twirled, and twisted into the distance and back again. In some places the glass would change into clouds or some kind of candy, and if he looked to closely, the various components seemed to move on their own.

Soral guessed with some confidence this must be the dream realm on the side belonging to the dream king. The few times he had good, or normal, dreams in the past, they had involved flying, candy, and endless skies. Perhaps because he hadn’t been seeking anyone out this time, there was no one to greet him, and nothing but the vast skies and the twisting path.

He would get nowhere just standing still, unless it was somewhere the path took him. The thought of letting the path carry him along seemed uncomfortable and dangerous somehow so Soral took his first step forward. Despite being upside-down, walking felt incredibly normal, except for the twisting sensations in his stomach when the path led him to walk sideways instead, and then upright.

With nothing to judge by other than the change in path and gravity, Soral couldn’t tell if he was going anywhere at all. He walked and walked for what felt like hours before he finally caught sight of something. A pavilion set in the clouds that almost seemed to be travelling down the path towards him.

As he got closer, or as it got closer to him, he was able to see a throne set in the pavilion, slightly off center. Both the throne’s base and the pavilion’s pillars were made of a strange white material with a sheen that reflected the various pastels in the skies, along with a few more colors that didn’t quite look like they belonged.

While the shape was quite similar to the nightmare throne Soral had seen earlier, this one went for comfort rather than eerie cracks. The seat and back were fitted with sky blue cushions, complete with the very real looking clouds the sky itself lacked moving across their surface. Soral had just enough time to take in the appearance of the throne before its owner suddenly appeared. It was the dream king Soral had met once before.

“You need to wake up,” the king warned, “If you continue to wander here you will be trapped forever.”

“How do I wake up?” Soral asked, “I drank this weird drink and… that is the last thing I remember.”

“You don’t know?” he asked, “I was certain I would have told you in the future since you know who I am.”

“I’ve only seen you once, for a second,” Soral admitted, “I don’t know your name either. Only his.” He gestured off somewhere but he figured the king would understand.

“Chaos… It is safe to mention his name in my realm, but never in reality,” he told him, “I will help you. Just to make things fair, I will also tell you my name. If you wish to forget it later, it will vanish from your mind.”

Soral nodded, though he doubted he would have any reason to need to forget it since he could not forget Chaos’s name.

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“I am Darz, king of the Realm of Dreams, or the Dream Realm. I do not get involved in reality often, or those from it, but you are a special case?”

“Why is that?” Soral asked him. Chaos had mentioned similar things when he had been making those deals.

Darz hesitated, as if unsure how much he should say. “If you have awakened your magic back in reality, you will be able to hear me. I will explain then.”

“Awaken my magic? But I use magic all the time,” Soral protested.

“Magic awakening happens when someone unlocks the true potential of their magic,” Darz explained.

“Then how do you know what will happen once I awaken mine?” Soral asked.

“Because I know who you are,” Darz answered, but had no intention of elaborating, “I suppose before you hear me, you will hear mother.”

“Mother?” Soral asked.

“You will understand. Now, wake up. You must deal with your reality now.”

Soral felt a sensation like a strong shove, and suddenly sat up with a gasp. His mouth felt incredibly dry, and the desert sun above him burned his skin. Didn’t the barrier of the oasis block the heat? What was he even doing outside?

His eyes slowly adjusted to the incredible brightness around him, and he saw why Darz had been so desperate to wake him. He was not in The Oasis. He was not even near Doc’s stronghold. He was alone with nothing but sand, sky, and the occasional cactus.

Soral felt the burning pain inside, next. He was still glowing, magic surging within him at levels he had never thought to imagine. Was this really his potential? If this was awakening, he wanted to go back. It hurt. This was nothing like the casual magic he had practiced or created.

Soral pushed with the magic to try and release it, and to do something about shelter. A sandstone hut emerged from the dunes before him and he quickly moved for the sweet shade inside. Once he was there, he grabbed some of the drinks he had stashed in his pocket and chugged them. The overly sour lemonade felt incredible on his parched throat, and he finally calmed down.

“My child,” a soothing female voice spoke.

He whipped around but there was no one. It sounded almost like the kind of voice he heard when he listened to thoughts. Was someone speaking to him telepathically?

“It’s alright,” the voice continued, “You do not need to fear. I will guide you to one who can help.”

“How will they help?” Soral asked. He didn’t know if he should trust the voice in his head. For all he knew it was one of those desert hallucinations.

“They will show you the path,” she told him, “They will calm your raging magic. They will feed your endless hunger.”

An image appeared in Soral’s mind as she spoke. It was of a forest grove that felt oddly familiar as if he had been there a thousand times, even though he knew he had never been in a forest with such unusual trees. “Where-”

“Go,” she prompted before he could even get his question out, “We will speak again once you are safe and whole.”

Soral opened a portal to the grove she inserted in his memories as if bewitched and stepped through.

On the other side he saw a beautiful silvery white creature that made him think of Jazz, for some reason. It didn’t look like Jazz. Rather than a cat, it was an elegant foxlike creature with an aura that felt overpowering despite its small frame. Was this a kitica?

“Hello Child of Insanity,” a voice spoke into his mind. This voice seemed feminine too, but rather than the soothing warmth he felt from the other, this one had the regal tones of royalty greeting a loyal retainer. At least, that is what Soral assumed it was similar to.

“Child of Insanity?” Soral repeated.

“The Prophecies refer to you as the Wild One. The first and last of your kind in this age of reality.”

So it was just another name for whatever he was? “If I am the child, what is insanity?”

“It is the name of the one who gave you life,” the kitica replied, “You may think of her as your mother.”

Soral recalled the voice from earlier. Had that been Insanity? She didn’t sound insane at all. Then again, he didn’t quite understand the Wild One thing either so it was probably just like that. “She said you would help me.”

The kitica stood and gracefully hopped into the branches of a nearby tree. “First you must eat. It is a wonder you have survived in this world so long with so little.”

The tree looked just as foreign as the dream realm he had just left. Its trunk and branches were a lighter shade than he would usually see, but that wasn’t what set it apart. It was the pearl-like fruit that rested in floral looking nests along the tree’s branches. The nests were leaves, upon closer inspection, and most bundles of leaves opened up to reveal the perfectly round fruits set in their centers.

The fruits were more than just perfectly round. They came in a variety of pastel colors that reminded Soral of the dream realm’s sky. The size was fairly normal, though. Somewhere between the size of an apple and a plum. The one the kitica rested in front of was on the larger side, and a lovely blue color.