Private Tales The Monster and The Burning Heart

[Zael Castomir]

Another seven on the "river." That made two pair. Heh, well fuck, guess it was time to start sweating like a pig in summer getting eyeballed by a fat pair of hungry farmers, huh. Alright, unlikely, but if another seven showed up on that next card, that'd be three of a kind. If Zael was playing with his own money then he probably should just "fold" right now, but fuck it, Olvir's raise wasn't that high, and maybe beginner's luck would sail him through.

Zael matched the raise.

"Oban," Zael echoed. "Can't say I've ever been."

He smiled in a prodding manner.

"What's it like havin a King who's worth a damn?"

That probably wasn't something you were supposed to say out loud in Anirian noble circles. Or maybe it was, the Houses did run the "Kingdom" for a good while there. Ollie'd be sure to tell him after the game.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

"Bah, don't matter where you're from, they're all the same. Step on the little guy and make sure you grab every penny you see on the way up. That's all a King does, mate. Along with the rest of them Nobles."​

It was the dealer that spoke again, and almost immediately his companion turned on him.

"Don't you be spittin' any of that nonsense near me, Regin. The King's doing his best, and if you feel otherwise why don't you run off into the woods with those fuckin' bandits."​

Ollie raise an eyebrow, glancing briefly at Zael but turned almost immediately to continue pressing. "Bandit problems in Oban?"

It wasn't like that sort of thing didn't happen in Vel Anir. Sure the Guard kept on top of it more than most places, but it still happened every now and again. Yet the way the man spoke earned more than the usual ire bandits received.

"Just some stuck up fucking bitches needing to learn their place."​

As Gerard railed on, the Dealer settled the last of the river, a three.

Ollie stared at it for a moment, and then made his final bet. Pair of King wasn't the best hand, but enough to push his luck for a round. "Well, speaking of Kings."

He countered, flipping his hards with a smile.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Man. The dealer had a mouth on him. Zael liked that. Maybe he was emboldened by the sheer fact that he wasn't actually in Oban right now (who knew, maybe that sort of comment would see him beheaded), but he had said it nonetheless.

"Everywhere's got bandit problems. Heh, least we got that in common."

The last card came up, a three, and that made for a pretty shitty hand. Ollie made his bet, but Zael knew he'd have to cut his loss.

"And that's a fold for me, boys. Best of luck to ya."

Turned out Ollie had two pair as well, but his was, topically enough, two Kings.

"Well here's your chance, Regin." Zael said, grinning. "You got somethin to topple those Kings?"

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Regin scoffed. "Naw, like I said, games rigged against us commoners."

A grin cast towards Zael, and then the man threw his cards onto the table, revealing that he had a pair of tens. A decent enough hand really, and enough to bluff with, but in the end Ollie won out. His hand grasped at the pile of coins on the table, pulling it towards him.

"You guys heading across the river?" Ollie asked as the deck was passed sideways from Regin towards himself. Eyebrows raised for a moment, but he caught onto the small rule quickly enough. Beginning to shuffle and deal.

Usually the games he played in had an official dealer, but it made sense that in a tavern someone would take turns. Stopped anyone from cheating.

Still, no one at the table seemed too upset by his victory. Probably because it was only the first one.

"Hell yeah." Gerard said. "Going to bag us a beastie and get that treasure."

Ollie nodded his head as he began to deal out the cards.

That was how it went for the next enduring hour. Zael and Ollie would share some banter with their new friends, a couple sips of ale, and money traded hands depending on the round. When night had truly fallen, and the minstrels began to play Ollie was already well into his cups. Sipping on his third ale and feeling that pleasant swim of alcohol. "And...and then the Gardener said...But I thought you wanted me to get her some great fucking and roses!"

He broke out into laughter along with the rest of the table as he finished the joke about a servant 'mishearing' his nobleman master.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael had to check himself with the drinks as the game went on and evening hung overhead outside the tavern. He wasn't sure how the Stalker interacted with blackout drunk dreams, but Zael figured that trying to lucid dream while drowning in ale would probably be a lot like trying to steer a runaway wagon rolling down a hill.

Ollie was nice and loosened up though. Just like Kristen in Vel Yuna, all you had to do was get a noble a little inebriated and all that "prim and proper" stuff was the first to go. Zael belly laughed at the joke, and after it passed he had to wonder if those galas and socials all started out uptight and by the night's end came around to jokes like that (among other things). If so, hey, double wine at whatever parties Zael, first of the Castomir name, was going to throw. And make it whatever kind of wine would knock you on your ass after one glass.

"Been a pleasure, boys," Zael said to the men at the table as he started to stand. "But we got a busy day tomorrow, and looks this good don't maintain themselves."

Not like they were going to get much beauty sleep though. Not with what he and Ollie had planned.

As they were walking away, Zael held up a coin in his hand for Ollie to see.

"Made one gold profit," he said, grinning; at least the sum total of his bets had landed him gaining instead of owing. "How bout that?"

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

The same could not be said for Ollie.

Though they hadn't been betting all that much, things had gone a little sideways. All in all he was pretty sure he'd lost around thirty seven silver pieces, and he was almost entirely positive that the gold piece Zael was carrying had once belonged to him.

It was won fair and square though, and the young noble didn't mind. "Not bad at all for your first time."

Ollie said with a grin.

"Can get something nice for that girl of yours." He suggested as they stepped back out into the street. The cold night air washing over them with a gentle breeze, a pleasant lap against the stench of ale and cigars that followed them from the tavern.

He took a deep breath, the solemness of the night around them reminding Ollie what still lay ahead of them. The smile on his face didn't fade though, and he said quietly. "Hell of a good memory to start a dream with, though."

Ollie finished, glancing at Zael with a smile.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Girl of his. Heh. Wasn't like he and Ever were betrothed. He hadn't even had the chance to sit down and really talk about things with her—just a little bit that one morning during the sunrise. But both he and Ever lived life fast, present in the moment and filling those moments up with thrill after thrill whenever possible. Graduation was coming after this mission though, so if ever there was a time it would be now, before they ended up going their separate ways.

All this he kept to himself. Uncharacteristic of him, he was aware, but he did it anyway.

Just focused on the one gold coin he had in his hand.

"Yeah," he said. "I think I'll hold on to it. Might be my lucky crown."

A set of general directions from one of the tavern patrons had them going along the right path toward the Limansk Inn. Despite it being night, there was something very noticeable about the streets of Grishino.

"Almost as bright as high noon out here," Zael mused. And indeed, every window, every door jamb, had hearth and candle and lantern light pouring out of them. The guards of the night watch carried either mundane torches or small lanterns with silvery magelights flittering around inside them, which wasn't unexpected, but only added to the town's remarkable brightness in this late hour. Everybody seemed to be staving off sleep as long as they could.

"But, you know, I love the fact that we're the only idiots who want to meet that thing tonight," he said, deadpan, trying to keep his lips from curling into a wild smirk.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

"Someone has to be brave." Ollie said softly, the words perhaps a little more solemn than Zael might have expected.

The moment was an odd one for Ollie.

Despite the night of fun, what was ahead of him still sat heavily on his shoulders. Though he had faced his own sort of dangers in life, the young Noble had never once encountered something like they were about to face.

He had managed to ignore the problem when knee deep in alcohol and gambling, but the closer they got to the Limansk, the more it settled upon his mind.

Steel yourself. You will survive what comes next. I will make sure of it.​

The sword at his side echoed in his mind, Ollie almost immediately tensing as it spoke. His lips thinning and a breath that felt slightly cooler drawing into his lungs. Goosebumps drawing over his skin. "But."

Ollie said. "I'm quite glad I'm doing it with you."

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael nodded appreciatively.

"Hell yeah." And he clapped a hand up to the back of Ollie's shoulder (tall motherfucker, heh). "Let's go give this thing some irresistible bait."

* * * * *

THE LIMANSK​

One of the larger buildings in Grishino, the Limansk Inn. Seemed the town's location, despite its current woes with the Stalker, was situated well enough to warrant an Inn of this caliber. It was certainly more luxurious than the rattier, hole-in-the-wall type places one often saw in smaller towns.

Sarah had a room on the top floor, the third, secured for the two of them when they arrived. The beds were nice, how about that. Zael was sitting on the edge of the left bed and it felt like his ass wouldn't go numb after ten minutes. Swear to Kress, some of those ratty inns offered slabs of stone for you to sleep on, not actual beds. Look, Innkeeps, not everybody was a dwarf, alright?

Zael watched Ollie brewing up the tea with the Ahvelian berries. His heart was pounding, but not from fear. Not outright fear anyway—a touch of fear was an essential ingredient to a good thrill. He didn't know what to expect, but baiting out some notorious monster, even in a dream, was exciting stuff.

"I got some choice things in my head for a nightmare," Zael said jokingly. "I'm gonna look like a sweet roll with extra sweet on it for that fucker."

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie followed the instructions for the tea to the letter, carefully pouring the water over the leaves and studying just how long to steep it.

If they were going to open up their dreams, then he wanted to make sure that this would actually work the way it was supposed to. Whole thing could go tits up if he got the wrong amount and one of them slept for the next three days.

Nerves still flickered through him, and there was no denying the fear which lingered in the back of his head.

The sword at his side had made it's promise, though just how much it meant Ollie had no idea. There was no denying the sword had helped him before, but never had it made such an overt declaration of intent. It was odd, and somehow in a way thrilling.

As though he were forming new bonds with the blade.

"I guess it'll seem like we're the happiest people in town." Ollie jested as he turned around, holding two cups. He slowly made his way towards the Dreadlord, glancing over towards Trik who sat in the corner of the room.

When the ogre-sized man had heard of their little plan, he had disproved quite vehemently. Though Ollie had managed to settle him, he still insisted on staying up and in the room while Ollie and Zael did what they had to.

"Ready?" The young Noble asked as he gave the Dreadlord his cup and moved to sit on his own bed. "I have a feeling this is going to taste awful."

He warned.

 

[Zael Castomir]

"It did before," Zael confirmed. "I don't think either you or Chas could make these Ahvelian berries good. Drinkable, but not good."

Zael held the cup of tea in both hands, looking down into the weird greenish red hue of it. Well, this was all part of the plan; if they didn't do this, the Stalker would hole up in its hiding spot and they'd end up just like the fabled Dreamcatcher—leaving Rostok empty-handed and disappointed.

"Hey," Zael said to Trik, and tried to say the rest without grinning, "Wake me up if I start pissin myself. I don't want to make too much of a mess."

He lifted the cup toward Olvir.

"Cheers."

He didn't know if that's how nobles really did it, but that's how plenty of tavern patrons impersonating nobles did it.

And then he drank the tea (yup, fucking awful) and laid back on his bed. One moment he was wide awake, the next he felt comfortable, and he didn't even know when sleep, like an attacker in ambush, was upon him.

* * * * *​

The waking world of Arethil was gone. The Limansk was gone.

Yet strangely, in the unformed gloom of the dreamscape, Zael could clearly see that Ollie was here as well.

"Hey," he said. "That really you?"

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Olvir's eyes snapped open, except they didn't.

Within the dream things were odd, and he could tell as much almost from the second that he woke up. Everything was tinged with a slight haze, as though seen through a roaring fighter. He heard Zael's voice echo out, but didn't quite grasp where it was coming from.

His own hand darted up, rubbing over his face. After a few moments he steeled himself, drawing in a deep breath as he nodded his head. "Yeah it's me."

Ollie responded, turning his head towards Zael.

The room they were in was almost exactly like that of the Limansk, but there was something off about it. Outside the sun was shunning, the furniture seemed shifted, and everything else was simply...different. Though just in what way he couldn't have said.

"I thought we were going to dream." He said, slowly standing up from the bed. "Like, actually dream and now just end up here."

A frown touched Olvir's face as he peered at Zael. "Seems we're ourselves though-"

Before he could finish what he was about to say, a third voice joined them. It resounded in the dreamworld just like any other spoken word, and to Ollie it was familiar. Yet for Zael it would be utterly knew, coming from a mask which seemed to rise from behind the young nobles bed.

"A strange form, but acceptable." The mask said as it floated up and to about head height. It's design vaguely humanoid, though with dark red eyes, sharp tusk like teeth, and a wide almost grin decorating it's lower half.

Ollie jumped back out of reaction more than actual fear, reaching for a sword that no longer sat on his belt.

 

[Zael Castomir]

In that way of dreams, where one scene effortlessly blends and bleeds and shifts into another, did that unformed gloom become a replica of the Limansk room.

Zael sat up from his bed. Everything seemed real, yet all of his senses seemed dulled, and there was a distinct dimness all about them that the waking world lacked. Normally this would be enough to convince anyone that the dream was not a dream (at least until one woke from it), yet with the awareness that he and Olvir had the surreal nature of their environs were easy to notice.

And one glaring surreal component was the third voice and the accompanying mask behind Ollie's bed.

"Ollie," Zael said; he didn't have to try very hard to sound enticingly startled for the Stalker, "what the fuck is that?"

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie took three careful steps back and away from the mask. Studying it carefully but being painfully aware that he was entirely unarmed. His fingers seemed to half furl at his side, as though he were preparing to strike the floating mask if it came near either of them.

"I think..." The mask slowly turned towards Olvir, and then floated forward and above the bed. Somehow, even unmoving, it was able to express what could only be taken as mirth. Perhaps amusement at the caution the two boys seemed to be showing.

"I think that's my sword." He said glancing over to Zael. "Which umm..."

Slowly the mask turned towards Zael. "Do not be concerned, Initiate, I am here to assist you."

Olvir looked over at the Initiate, then cleared his throat. "Wouldn't you be more helpful as, you know, a sword?"

The mask seemed to stop for a second, and then turned back towards Olvir.

"I do not know why I am in this form." It said. "I have never been to the world of dreams."

Ollie frowned, then looked at Zael. Hoping, although knowing he probably wouldn't, that the Initiate might have some insight on what was happening.

 

[Zael Castomir]

Zael, by sheer reflex, signed in the Dreadlord Sign Language to Ollie: the fuck? Then right as soon as he got done with the motions he realized that, yeah, the Mask didn't read sign but neither did Ollie.

So he just said it out loud then, "The fuck? That's...supposed to be your sword?"

Zael shook his head, as if in an attempt to rattle the supremely odd thought from his mind.

"Well. I guess I've seen stranger things in my own dreams." Like the one, right after his first "destressing" visit to the brothel back in the wild old days, when the Box became personified and he had relations with it along with another cute Initiate. It was a formative time, a time of discovery, which was a flowery, noble way of saying that he had been horny as hell still.

"Alright," Zael said, walking over toward the window of the room and looking out over the dream's misty, darkened, obscure representation of Grishino. "Time to think up some nightmares."

He glanced back at Ollie. Grinned in a daredevil fashion, even though (or perhaps especially because) he could recall the potent fear from the real-life event which inspired it.

"I've got a classic for mine."

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie watched as Zael looked at him, fingers flickering in a strange way almost deliberately before he suddenly just blurted out; 'The fuck?'.

An apt question that the young Noble was really asking himself as well. Why was his sword a mask? Why had it appeared in the dream? There was a whole host of questions that he assumed he wouldn't be getting an answer to. As was the case when it came to most things about the sword.

"I have no fucking idea." Olvir admitted, and the mask let out a laugh. "I swear after we get home I'm going to find out more about the damned thing."

He wasn't sure how he was going to do that, but he would. "I am, as I told the Initiate, only here to assist."

The sword commented, though only earned yet another dubious look from Olvir. The young noble shook his head, and then decided that arguing with an inanimate object wasn't going to do him any good. Zael was right, they were here to do a job, and they had to get the job done.

A hand ran through his hair, and he nodded his head at Zael.

"I'm ready." Ollie said as he offered one last glance as the mask, then looked out the window.

There the sky began to turn. Shifting and darkening even further. Raindrops began to fall, and the memories crept to the forefront as Ollie and Zael both began to think of nothing but nightmares.

 

[Zael Castomir]

The Limansk Inn dropped away. Melted away. Slid away.

And the dream reformed as Zael's lucid imagination took control. All Grishino faded and gave way to the sparse forest outside of Tarrow, his tiny little home village. It was night. Lessat and Pneria were both snuffed out by the clouds in the sky and the darkness was supreme. Yet he was out here, pushed to be out here, by his so-called "mom" and "dad." Why? Because someone had to get the firewood, and they hated Zael too much to let him collect some in the daytime.

All was quiet, save those tiny snaps and crunches of Zael's and Ollie's boots on the forest floor.

"Maybe you'd never figure it..." Zael said to Ollie. He was aware of the tiny hatchet now inexplicably in his hand, the same as he used when he was five years old.

Elsewhere, deep in the forest, the mind played tricks on the eyes, on the ears. Faint suggestions of a presence. Of a monster.

"...but I was afraid of the dark."

Was there something? Watching? Waiting?

Zael smiled lightly, a trembling gesture. "Somethin like that is never too far from hand."

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie listened quietly, as did the mask now floating at his side.

His head turned back and forth as the world around them changed. For a moment he wondered if it was Zael doing that, only for the question to slip away as the Initiate began to speak. Olvir's brow furrowed ever so slightly as he listened to the boy, his eyes flickering back and forth as he watched the shadows around them.

"No, it's not." Ollie agreed quietly, his gaze shifting ever so slightly to the darkness between the trees.

He stared there, as if he would see something.

For a moment complete and total silence reigned. Even the mask did not speak, it only hung there, watching the two boys. "My fear was never too far either."

Ollie offered quietly.

"Until he sent me away." A pair of eyes appeared within the dark. Not monstrous or inhuman, but somehow terrible. There was an evil to them, an unspoken and unbound anger. The type which could only settle in a person who chose their path.

Those eyes were framed by a face that looked much like Ollies, yet beyond that there was nothing human in the dark. Just a horrid twisted amalgamation of a young boys fears.

 

[Zael Castomir]

The downward spiral of the nightmare was becoming more and more difficult to control. Those fears within, they were like caged animals, ready to bolt the second the gate locking them in was open.

Until he sent me away.

As soon as Ollie said it, Zael could see those eyes in the dark of the Tarrow forest. It didn't matter if they were the same eyes that he saw in the real forest when he was five or if these were eyes of another sort. They were the unknowable thing in the night against which all reason failed. They were a terror of most primeval kind.

A crackling could be heard, like the quiet crumpling and tearing of paper and parchment next to one's ear. It was difficult to tell when it had begun. But it was present now.

As was the feeling—extremely vague, like an ominous sense of foreboding—of something behind Zael's and Ollie's head. Zael looked toward Ollie, but could see nothing behind his friend's head, yet he knew that if he could somehow look behind himself he might get a glimpse of the thing.

Of the Stalker. Drinking in his fear through the back of his skull with a spindly, bony siphon.

It was in the way of dreams almost impossible to tell how long they were in that forest. Only when Tarrow and all of those trees and that dreadful night began to melt away did it seem like time had begun again...

...and they bled seamlessly into Ollie's nightmare.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

"Why do you always fail."​

The voice slithered into the air as the trees began to fall away. Echoing and resounding in Ollie's mind as though they had been screamed. His fingers tightened almost immediately, drawing into closed fists as he felt the breath still in his chest.

"I should have have blighted you in your mothers womb."​

More words slipped from the bleak nothing, and those dim eyes within the darkness slowly began to grow. Almost becoming transfixing. They became larger, staring directly at Ollie even as he felt something looming behind himself. As he felt that tug to turn around and look.

Goosebumps raced over his skin, and he felt as though he couldn't move. Paralyzed, not with fear, but a deep sense of dread that had crept through his spine and spiked every nerve within.

The eyes in front of Ollie remained still.

Yet something else stirred behind him. Zael would see it, the slight shift, the movement. A man's face, the same face looking at Olvir.

But there was something wrong about it. The skin was stretched, the eyes sunken and hollow, and his body was not that of a man's, but a creature. It stepped forward not upon legs, but arms, ten of which extended from the monstrous things body.

Slowly the thing reached out, still speaking, whispering into Ollie's ear.

"Worthless. Even with your brothers gone. I wouldn't take you as a son."​

 

[Zael Castomir]

Some dreams aligned with the real, some dreams drifted into the abstract.

Here there was no forest, no representation of Tarrow, no sights or sounds native to Arethil. To Zael it was like drowning in a sea of midnight. And wherever there was dark, there could be found monsters within it.

What words were spoken this thing, this multi-armed creature, seemed to know, to have echoed or paraphrased from elsewhere. They seemed to be the words of Ollie's father.

(seemed they both lacked true fathers, and had instead little more than men who sired them)

"Ollie," Zael said, lifting an arm which felt like it was cast in lead and pointing, "there's somethin behind you."

Meanwhile, the Stalker (not the only creature behind Ollie's head), drinking in all of Ollie's dread like a vampire bat lapping at an open wound.

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Ollie seemed frozen.

The whole of him stuck in place. It was as though he had been turned to stone. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to move, to run, to turn around and listen to Zael, but he couldn't do it. Goosebumps rolled over his flesh, and the creature behind him seemed to feast upon the terror that ran through him.

It felt like something was ripping out a piece of him, slowly. Tearing away a strip of Ollie as though it could simply peel him apart piece by piece.

"MOVE, YOU FOOL!" A voice bellowed, so shockingly loud that Ollie's head turned out of pure instinct more than anything else. Snapping to look at the mask which had shouted at him, catching a glimpse of the creature behind him simply from his periphery.

It was that sight which seemed to kick something at the back of his mind.

That innate, primal human instinct to fight or flee.

Instantly he turned on his heel, shifting around and distinctly not looking at the creature behind him as he broke out into a sprint. Rushing towards Zael. His eyes filled with a mixture of terror and confusion as the creature behind him twisted itself, shifting and letting out a horrid laugh.

"EHEHAHAHAHAHA!"​

A sound that resounded within the great nothing like a thunderclap.

 

[Zael Castomir]

He didn't need a reason to run; he just started running, matching the urgency of Ollie's own pace, dashing toward him. Yet it was in the impossible way of dreams that the closer they got to reaching one another, the further away they actually were, as if whatever counted for ground within his void was outpacing the two of them. Zael had firm control of himself via the lucid dreaming but, like trying to grasp some delicate object with numbed fingers, couldn't quite take ownership of the shared dream now, couldn't stop the ground from the rolling away, couldn't stop the tearing thunderclap of a laugh from piercing his ears.

Zael ran with all his might but it was no use. That multi-armed creature with its baleful laugh loomed behind Ollie, no further was he from it than when he had started running, as if the creature and its intentions were simply inescapable and inevitable.

A spark of panic coursed through Zael. A terrible feeling of helplessness. The thought that he might watch someone he cared about be torn apart right before his very eyes and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. His limbs pulsed with energy. He kicked and flailed and—

* * * * *

MORNING​

—fell off of his bed, his arm slapping against the end table between the two beds of the Limansk room before he ended up in a tangle of loose limbs and chaotic blanket on the floor.

A burst of air escaped his throat like that a man surfacing from water expelling a lungful of fire. It took Zael a moment, a long moment, for him to realize that his surroundings had entirely changed (despite the lingering dose of adrenaline and quavering tremor of fear beneath his flesh) and that everything now had an undeniable realness to it that his erstwhile environs lacked.

Gentle early morning light was filtering in through the window.

Zael let out a sigh. Slapped a hand to his forehead. And just said:

"Fuck."

Olvir

 

[Olvir]

Olvir ran.

As fast as he could, as quick as was possible. His feet stumbled over the endless abyss, treading across vast nothingness and never moving a single inch. Panic flowed through his whole body, fear like he had never felt before. It ripped and grasped at him, slowly pulled and plucked as the beast behind him feasted upon the terror in his heart.

"YOU'LL NEVER BE ENOUGHHHHHH! YOU'LL ALWAYS FAAAAAAAAIL!"​

It hissed at him, it's words not a shout, but ringing within his mind with all the force of thunder.

Olvir stumbled as suddenly he saw Zael fade away. "NO!"

He shouted in utter and complete panic as he watched his friend disappeared. The cruel laugh of the stalker ringing out behind him once more. His feet fell out from beneath him, the toe of his boot crashing against an unseen stone as he went tumbling to the ground.

The noble crashed against a floor that wasn't real, the panic in his chest turning to terror as he whirled around and finally faced the creature. It's dozens of hands flipping upward and towards him, reaching to grasp the young Noble when suddenly the mask slipped between them.

"WAKE UP!" It shouted, before slamming into Olvir's face. Headbutting him and sending him crashing to the back.

Olvir snapped up and out of bed. Sweat beaded on his brow, dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and a shout echoed from his lips.

His head whirled, he looked around in utter panic.

Then he saw the bare beams of light, heard the sound of chirping birds, and noted Zael sitting on the floor. Trik already standing as he quickly headed over towards both of the boys. Concern flickering on his features. "What the hell happened?! Are you alright?"

The ogre-sized knight said, glancing between the two Anirians. Olvir's entire body shaking violently, adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

 

[Zael Castomir]

"Alright now," Zael said, gingerly coming to sit up with a little bit of strained effort. All told, things didn't go too badly. They just needed to wipe the horrified looks off their faces before Auntie saw them and had an I told you so fit and they'd be golden.

One strange thing did occur to him though once he laid eyes on Ollie.

"Hey, did we...have the same dream? Were we in it...together?" Sure as hell seemed so. "Huh."

He didn't remember those berries and that tea doing that last time.

Olvir