The effect was immediate outside the dreamscape.

After the wolf-dragon declared that Hima and Narati were trapped, Hakumen suddenly felt something off. He looked at both his daughter and the young Fa’ar worriedly, even trying to start the casting process again.

This did not escape Raine’s attention. When he saw Hakumen’s long ears dropped, he immediately suspected something went wrong.

“What happened?” asked Raine.

“Strange,” said Hakumen, his tone serious. “I lost young Narati and Hima.”

“Lost them?” said Raine, bewildered. “What do you mean, you lost them?”

“I mean I can’t contact them. I was still able to observe what’s happening in there, but after I caught a glimpse of a dungeon, it turned pitch black. Normally, that’s when the subject wakes up, but as you can see….”

“They’re not.” Raine immediately put his hand on Narati. He was still breathing, as did Hima. But they were unresponsive, even when he touched their snouts, known to be one of a beast person’s most sensitive parts on their bodies. That would usually wake them up, but even after he did so repeatedly (to the point where Kaz was uncomfortable and told him to stop), they never woke up.

Raine stopped himself from accusing the old kitsune of botching the spell, knowing that he would not know better. Instead, after taking a deep breath, he asked, “What could’ve caused this?”

“The spirit, definitely,” replied Hakumen. “It trapped Hima and Narati in Narati’s dreamscape. For what purpose, I don’t know, but I don’t think it’s going to be benign. We need to wake them up.”

The old kitsune’s tone was enough for Raine to understand the dire situation. He immediately thought of something he should do, something that could get them both out of their own dreams.

He could start with the smelling salts from the old drugstore. If it still didn’t work, then he should ask someone to wake them up with a spell, but that could end up making things worse. That should only be a last resort.

Just as he walked away to find some smelling salts, Hakumen grabbed his arm and said, “Wait. I changed my mind. We should let them wake up at their own pace.”

“Haku, if a spirit can trap them within their minds, then it’s dangerous!”

“Don’t be so hasty, Raine. Now that I think about it, I think the spirit needs to have some privacy in their heads. There must be something important that they need to talk about. If you force them to wake up, who knows what damage they suffer in the process.”

“I can’t lose Nara, not after I lost two of my friends already. And Hima’s your beloved daughter, Haku.”

“They won’t die,” assured Hakumen. “And don’t call me Haku. Calm yourself down and trust me.”

Raine was hard to understand a situation beyond his understanding, but he knew Hakumen had the wisdom afforded by his age and experience. This business about dream-walking was his idea. The fact that he was so calm despite of knowing that he could potentially lost his only daughter rubbed off Raine, so the human reluctantly agreed and sat beside Kaz, hoping for the best.

***

“Trapped?!” exclaimed Narati. “In my own head?!”

“That’s the gist of it,” said the dragon-wolf. “Although, it’s not as bad as you think. I don’t mean you any harm, and I’m sure you won’t, either. In any case, I put a limiter to your imagination capabilities, Narati. Wouldn’t want your dark thoughts to run amok, not if you want to protect your friend.”

Narati silently looked away, unsure if he should be grateful towards the dream dragon, especially when the dragon was right. The dark thoughts were responsible for some of the most violent killings he ever did, and the reason why he had the idea of the motorized axe in the first place. Whatever the dragon held back was for his own good.

“Now that we got that out of the way, let’s get back to why I want you here,” said the dragon. “For the record, I can’t let you two out of this dreamscape until I can explain everything I need to say. It will take a while, so sit back and listen, okay?”

“First, tell us your name,” said Hima. “We can’t be on the same standings if we don’t know each other’s name.”

“Oh, okay. You kitsunes with your reverence to names. Well, sorry to disappoint you, fox lady, but my name’s unpronounceable, at least for you anyway.”

“A shortened version of your name would be fine,” said Hima. “We can’t just call you ‘wolf-dragon’ or ‘dream dragon’ or…Oneiro-whatever you called yourself earlier.”

“Alright, you got a point. Uhm…. Sauersci. How about that?”

“How do you pronounce that?”

“Saw-err-si,” said the dragon.

“Sawyer?” said Narati.

“No, it’s Sauersci.”

“I don’t know. Sawyer sounds normal to me. Right, Hima?”

Hima nodded in approval.

The dragon groaned. “Argh, fine. Sawyer it is, then. That’s the dullest name I’ve ever heard. Slap a ‘Tom’ before that, and you got yourself a brat’s name.”

“Tom Sawyer?” Narati chuckled. “You’re right. That’s a stupid name.”

Sawyer shook its head, realizing that they went off-topic.

“We’re wasting time here, so, let’s put names aside and let us begin. Let’s, uh…start from the moment you realized something’s different from you compared with other Fa’ars.”

“You mean that time when we first met? After I succumbed to the effects of Aether?”

“Uhmm…technically. Since you certainly remembered it, let’s start with…this.”

The sterile white landscape slowly revealed a scenery, gradually like props wheeled into the stage, or in this case, appearing out of thin air. There was the wall, a concrete floor, then the roof. The lighting changed, this time to a dark, dim place, only illuminated by the sunlight coming in from a hole in the roof.

While Narati appreciated that it wasn’t one of his traumatic memories, it was still a rather frightening memory. He remembered the moment vividly, including the part where he and Asran had a confrontation, and when he realized that he was different.

The only thing that bothered him was the perspective. This was the first time he ever saw himself in third person and frankly, it’s rather…trippy. It didn’t look like him in the mirror at all. There were subtle differences that he couldn’t pinpoint.

The scene in question was the fight with Asran, during the moment when Narati was momentarily weakened by the high content of Aether in the air. In the recollection of events, however, Narati stood defiantly against Asran, who by contrast, was maddened by the Aether that forced his transformation into something terrifying.

“That’s…Asran?” asked Hima, bewildered. “My god, he looks…monstrous.”

“Aether is terrifying,” said Sawyer. “But don’t focus on that. Check on Narati and see if you can tell the reason why you’re here.”

Hima and Narati did so. At first, they failed to see the significance other than Narati remembering how he was only sustained by his strong desire to avenge Karkas. It was Hima’s sharp eyes that noticed something subtle around Narati, something that, after she pointed it out, made Narati recoiled in horror.

“There’s a green aura,” she said. “Green…and black. It’s just like Asran, but this one’s too subtle to make out. It’s like a barrier of some kind.”

“Barrier?” asked Narati. “And did you say…green and black?”

“Yes. The aura looks like a beast, too, with horns.”

“H-horns?”

“But it’s not like the antler horns Sawyer had. It’s more caprine. It’s….” She glanced towards Asran. “It’s like a phantom version of him.”

“Indeed,” confirmed Sawyer. “That aura you saw is something that Narati would have become if he continued to succumb to the darkness within him. The result would be like Asran, a true Fa’ar, maddened by power, to make the best army a dark empire could’ve had. Except, of course, that would not the case.”

“Why not?” asked Hima.

“Because Narati is different from Asran. Let’s just say that Asran is a fraud, and Narati is the genuine article. He thought he was the king, while the truth is far from that.”

“Stop talking in riddles,” confronted Narati. “What are you trying to say? That I’m a monster?”

“A monster with purpose. A true Fa’ar,” said Sawyer. “And sadly, a slave to the Nuremnians.”

“In case you don’t know, Nuremnians are no longer around for a thousand years,” said Hima.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Yeah, I know. Your ancestors defeated them at the cost of world stability. But you see, your compassion or, in this case, your need for a trophy makes it a complicated victory. I could argue that you played the moral high ground card by giving the Dark Races a chance of redemption, that you want to believe that Fa’ars can be good. Narati’s a perfect example of that argument: a traumatized young Fa’ar who lost everything and struggled to fight against his own darkness, but who genuinely wanted to find friends amidst his cursed existence. See what I’m getting at?”

There was silence.

“Except that would only happen in a perfect world,” said Sawyer. “Something out of storybooks and well-written novels. The reality is, you’re harboring a race full of ticking time bombs.”

“Okay, that’s enough nonsense,” said Hima, who scoffed in disbelief. “You’re making the same argument that the elves made years ago regarding Fa’ars. It’s nothing but a justification of a genocide.”

“But of course, that would be the case if you haven’t seen what I see. There are perks afforded to a dream dragon, and of course, to the host, and the companion. So, let’s move on to the next point: history.”

The scene changed again, but it was a fuzzy, undetermined scenery with no distinctive objects or people.

“Oh, right. Race memories are harder to pull out,” said Sawyer.

“Race memories? That’s not how dreams work,” said Hima.

“You underestimated my powers,” said Sawyer with a chuckle, noting how ridiculous that sounded with its androgynous voice. Noting that the joke flew over both of their heads, Sawyer cleared its throat and chose an alternate way to explain Fa’ar’s history.

Pulling through all resources within Narati’s dreams, he managed to stabilize the fuzzy scenery into things that represented it. Narati could recognize some of the elements, especially the industrial Haven of Macksten, the one constant in his early adventures that seemed so out of place compared to the rest of the Desert Wasteland.

Then people, humans and beast people alike, started to populate the dream Macksten. Their faces had no details, but it wasn’t bad enough to end up blank. They looked more like an afterthought. A background character.

“From what I can gather, this is an interpretation of what a pre-war city looks like, more than a thousand years ago,” said Sawyer. “Granted, it’s far more advanced than this, but you haven’t seen anything that could properly represent that time, so this industrial city will have to do. Okay, let’s begin. Narati, your elven friend, Aranis, once told you about the Anthropos spell that created the former humans living in your town. Well, the thing is, that spell was once a perfected spell, and the result…is a race called Fa’ars.”

“Us?” said Narati, bewildered. “You’re not making any sense. How are you even able to get that fact while I’m clearly not alive during that time?”

“Race memories are subconscious strong memories that are inherited. It’s buried deep within your subconscious that you might not realize it unless you think hard about it. Humans have it. Kitsunes have it. Even dragons have it. But unlike then, your race memory is very specific and fairly recent since Fa’ars are an artificial race. And I uncovered something disconcerting about that, hence my comment about ticking time bombs.”

“That comparison is not going to help my case, either,” said Narati. “All you do is give more reason for them sabangse to justify ruining our lives or kill us outright for being a pest.”

“Then observe.”

All of the sudden, the dream Macksten changed into something Narati was also familiar with: the Aether conversion chamber where he, N’Dari, and Tulis freed Asran’s captives. However, instead of them, Fa’ars were inside the chamber. All of them were generic-looking Fa’ars that Narati couldn’t recognize, again reminding him of background characters. They were all kept inside the tubes while a human wearing a white lab coat operated a machine, undoubtedly for some nefarious purposes.

“This is…?”

“Mass production of the Fa’ars that would serve to be soldiers for the upcoming War,” said Sawyer. “There was no shortage for rats to use, which explained why you’re hardly a clone to one another. The most important piece of information comes from this part of your ancestral memory. You see, this moment depicted the moment when your ancestors were given instructions in the form of a powerful spell that would be activated when they needed it. What spell it was, I don’t know. What I know is that when that spell is activated, you will lose your free will.”

“Lose…my….”

“Mind control?” said Hima. “Wait, are you implying that this mind control spell includes all Dark Races?”

“No, just Fa’ars. Like I said, a ticking time bomb to one of the potentially greatest retaliations from a defeated empire. When that happens…well, let’s just say they would have succeeded in playing the longest game. Nuremnia would rise, this time with Fa’ars.”

“But that’s very unlikely. Nuremnia’s gone,” said Hima.

“Oh, don’t bet on it just yet. The empire, yes, but how about the mages that escaped persecution? Maybe they chose to teach the spell to their descendants. And don’t get me started with sorcerers who might’ve unlocked the secret of immortality and are now biding their times. There are so many possibilities, and no one will know which one is going to happen.”

“But that’s…I can’t imagine a fate worse than that,” despaired Hima, before she tried to reason with this revelation by holding out her hand. “Unless that is your way to break down his psyche. Do you seriously think we would believe a word you said?”

Sawyer sighed. “May I remind you that you are trapped in here until I say everything that I have to say? Also, you can’t exorcize me. I’m hardly a spirit.”

“Can’t know if you haven’t tried.”

“Humor me, then.”

Hima intended to do just that. She concentrated, trying to focus on what her father taught her so very long time ago. It had been a while since she tried to purge an evil spirit, especially after she moved into the Emerald Valley, where demons and evil spirits were scarce, and life was relatively peaceful. She kept herself trained, however, and during that training, she learned how to be creative.

But none of those mattered in the dreamscape as she found that she was unable to muster any spirit energy, or even mana. She tried again, this time gritting her teeth. Nothing. This caused the dream dragon to let out a smirk and moved Hima’s hands away from its face.

“Exactly,” said the dragon. “But instead of me, why don’t you see your friend? Right now, he needs all the help he can get. Don’t worry, take your time. You’re lucky I’m here to hold back the anger. Otherwise, you’d be consumed, and that’s going to complicate things. Wanna have a glimpse?”

Hima was going to object when Sawyer literally tore a part of the background (they were still in the laboratory that created the Fa’ar, or an artistic interpretation of it) like wallpaper. There was nothing but darkness, but Hima’s sensitivity to spiritual energy and her felt something within the darkness and found…chaos. She saw violent deaths. She heard the grinding noise only a power saw could make. She heard the agonized scream of someone who presumably was the victim of said power saw. And at the center of it was Narati, fur caked in blood. His eyes were green, and his pupils were like dots. His smile was malicious and evil.

Sawyer abruptly returned the background to what it was and glanced at the subject at hand. Hima turned to find Narati, sitting on a bench, crying his eyes out. The revelation that he was nothing but a sleeper agent, a weapon for the dark empire’s retaliation, took a massive toll on his confidence. He never wanted to know that he could cause more ruin to a broken world. He thought he was just an unfortunate, traumatized Fa’ar bent on revenge. In the end, he started to accept that the treatment he suffered was justified. They may see him as a pest, but in truth, they feared what he would become, or the implications that Fa’ars would rule the world over them. Rats over the rest of the world. It sounded so wrong.

Hima could hear his thoughts, undoubtedly arranged by Sawyer. Sympathetic, she put her hand under his maw, raising his head so she could see his eyes. Without hesitation, she hugged him, surprising the Fa’ar.

“I thought you need your soul purified,” said Hima. “But in the end, what you really need…are friends who can accept you of what you really are, not just for being a Fa’ar. Saying you’ve been through a lot is an understatement. I can only imagine, so I’m sorry if I sound rather unsympathetic.”

“No,” said Narati, shaking his head, before returning Hima’s hug. “The fact that you care about it is fine for me. You’re a more direct person, but in the end, just like Raine, you truly care. I have only met good people like you recently, but I’m grateful to have hope.”

Narati was not exaggerating about it, as Sawyer subtly showed Hima a memory of Narati’s past, one that wasn’t as traumatic as the rape they saw earlier, but still one of many moments of his past that showed how life as a Fa’ar was nothing but misery. He purposely only made this visible to Hima, who watched silently.

The memory showed a similar scene, but instead of a dungeon, it was a cage full of Fa’ars, with nothing but a tattered tarp to shield them from the harsh elements of the desert. There, she saw Narati, the only Fa’ar gagged and tied in the cage, being left alone by the others. The other Fa’ars were catatonic and unresponsive. Close examination on their expressions were enough to tell that they had been abused to the point of hopelessness, hoping death to be quick and swift. Narati, apparently a new addition to that cage, simply cried at the corner, lamenting his fate. He was clearly the only child in that cage.

Sawyer, however, did not do it to stoke her sympathy. He wanted to show her that this was the point where Narati started to succumb to his darkness. Within the dreamscape, the same black and green aura coating Narati could clearly be seen, except it wasn’t as strong as the one he exhibited during the fight with Asran.

“He always had that darkness within him,” said Sawyer directly into Hima’s mind. “One day, you will have to teach him how to accept this darkness and let go of his past before it’s too late.”

“What can I do?” replied Hima mentally. “Sawyer, this isn’t something we kitsunes can help with. Aether affliction is worse than possession by evil spirit.”

“How about giving him something to do? Let’s say…teach him how to properly defend himself. He knows how to fight the way a Fa’ar could, but that’s hardly enough. He needs to be prepared for when he must confront the inevitable.”

“The return of the Nuremnians, you mean? That’s highly unlikely.”

“But never impossible. Now, there is one thing I can do to prevent his fate, but in doing so, he will be a pariah among his kind and possibly among others who know him, including his closest friends. I will remove the suggestion that would trigger his servitude towards Nuremnia. He would be free from his fate.”

Hima’s expression was that of surprise. “You can do that?”

“Yes. But he will begin to slowly transform into a true Fa’ar, the same horned one he faced. The changes will be subtle, and they will begin with resistance to Aether and less restraint on his desire for violence. It is a price he must pay for his freedom. I need you to explain this to him and assure him that training him would be the right choice. Can you do that for him? He could never let go of his darkness, but he could harness it. Give him hope against the despair he would surely experience. Against what he perceived as grave mistakes.”

To make it easier to explain, Sawyer pulled out the moment when Narati slayed the dragon. Instead of a triumphant victory as expected in this moment, it was of horror when Narati realized that he doomed the only youngling the dragon had. It refused his help and flew away, presumably to the moment when Sawyer euthanized it.

“Give him a reason to be responsible,” said Sawyer. “And let him know that he has powerful and understanding friends who can lead him away from his own despair. Right now, he only has Raine, oblivious of what he can do. Karkas the Crocodilian is unavailable and Aranis the elf has doubts about whether she should care, though I’m sure she would understand if you explained it to her. That leaves you, and your family, to help him through this personal crisis.”

Hima felt unsure for the first time in her life. While it was true that she had helped many in her long, fruitful life, and she would continue to do so for the next century and beyond, the kitsune had never dealt with something so unusual before. Helping a Fa’ar to accept his own darkness? Why, that’s contrary to what she was supposed to be doing! She was a priestess, and she honed her magic to purify evil, not letting them embrace it!

But wasn’t that the job of a priestess? To guide lost souls? She looked at Narati after he broke away from her embrace, moments before Sawyer appeared and explained his intentions to remove the suggestion spell. He never said anything about the corruption taking hold, only warning the Fa’ar that he must stay strong for his own and his friends’ sakes. Only Hima knew what would happen, and Sawyer had just entrusted him to her. She agreed with Sawyer’s decision. Narati needed to understand what he was capable of and not see it as a curse. Sawyer’s release of the suggestion spell was the start of Narati’s new journey.

Hima made her decision silently. She would have to ask her father what to do, but she had decided to help Narati the way she could. She wouldn’t feel right if she leaves Narati then and there. She couldn’t trust Raine to understand, and knowing Aranis, she would make the decision she thought best by putting Narati out of his misery, as a show of kindness.

Sawyer and Hima silently nodded in understanding. At that moment, the whole landscape turned white, then became bright, then it abruptly cut into darkness.

Their journey through the dreamscape was over.