The Dream Keeper's Dragon

15. Prisoner of Thoughts

"Aurelie!" he said, beaming. He stood, and pointed to a seat, then picked up his big white beard, and shook off the remaining ink onto the cat's fur. It came off as if it were powder.

Aurelie came closer, her eyes narrowed. He hadn't looked near as friendly when his face was peering at her like a ghost. A chair appeared behind her. It knocked into the backs of her knees and forced her into sitting.

She opened her mouth to ask what was happening around her but the cat suddenly turned its head to her and narrowed its eyes as if he was suspecting her of something wicked.

"I am surprised you took such a long time to visit me again, Aurelie," the old man said and walked over to one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls.

"You're the one who came to me," she said. "I've never been to this castle."

"Yes, the castle is new but this realm that you are currently in is not. You used to come here all the time when you were just a child. And, as for your dream, you called upon me, and I came. You were under the effect of sleeping dust. Though you did not realize the dangers yourself, your body was distressed, and asked for the protection of the Dream Realm," he said and looked at her intently, as though the fact that he said this would trigger some sort of memory when he was convinced that it had not, he rather abruptly turned back to the bookshelf.

The Dream Realm? She could truly say that she had heard everything. "I, I don't remember ever being here. And as for this realm, I had absolutely no idea that it even existed."

"That is a shame. Kaiden was a stubborn man, they should have told you about me," he said, and took a book off of its shelf.

"How do you know uncle Kaiden?" she asked, cupping her cheeks in her hands. "And who are you?"

"I am the Keeper of Dreams. The servant of kings, and a prisoner of thoughts," the man replied.

"Poetic." She raised her eyebrows and nodded. "And what do you do, Keeper of dreams, something of kings and something-something of thoughts?"

"You ask too many questions for one day, young one. Let me have my fun," he said and picked up a tiny crystal vial off his table. It contained red liquid. It stained the glass as it rocked in his hand.

Aurelie ignored him. The man had been following her for days that she knew of and years that he admitted to. If anything, she did not ask him enough questions!

"Why am I here?" she asked and looked around trying to read the names on the spines of what looked like millions of books. They were all blank. "What are all these books and why am I here?" she asked.

The Keeper sighed. "The books were written by those that have visited my realm. And as for why you're here . . . Well, because it's been long overdue! The leading royals of Highfire are protected by a spell against magic so that their souls do not reveal their thoughts when they take their rest. Keepers were created for the sole purpose of keeping their thoughts. All their dreams and all their plans are kept safely here, where no mortal man can enter." He crossed his arms. "Is that enough?"

His answers begged for more questions.

"Not quite." She raised a finger. "Why am I here? Emile is the King, surely it is his—"

"You might not be by title, but the realm has chosen you to lead," he answered, and walked to the back of the shelves.

Aurelie's bit down on her bottom lip. "But –

The Keeper's nostrils flared. "Please, child." He interrupted her. "Come on, follow me quickly. You are soon going to awaken."

Aurelie got up and followed him. The shelves shifted in front of them and made a corridor filled with rows upon rows of books. He led her past them all, toward the final row. At the end of the row was a large letter A. She looked around at the full shelves and came across an empty row. A gray layer of dust covered the surface. She wrapped her cloak around her hand and wiped the dust off the shelf.

The bold, golden letter read, Aurelie. She wiped it again, clearing the last dust away, and then polished the letters with a clean piece of her cloak. "I don't understand." She scratched her head and turned to the Keeper.

"It has been here since I was brought here to keep these thoughts. Your shelf has always been empty until five days ago."

"Where is it then? Where is my story," she asked eagerly, wanting to peek at the things this man knew.

A thick layer of fog came over her eyes.

"It is time for you to go now. You are needed in the present world," he said and started to walk away from her.

"Wait, I don't want to leave," she said, but the room was getting further and further away. The Keeper grabbed her hand and pricked her finger with his quill. A drop of blood fell into the crystal vile. When the drop mixed with the other liquid, a blue fire ignited inside.

A force pulled Aurelie out of the room, down the stairs, and through the door of the castle.

She was back between the tulips. The path rolled backward, and the castle shrunk and transformed back into the cabin. Everything happened like before but in reverse. When she looked at her finger, there was no evidence that it had been pricked.

There was movement inside the cabin. She stepped closer and stood on her toes to peek inside the window.

She saw herself sitting at the table with her aunt and uncle. Elizabeth swung the pouring spoon around. "I wasn't able to get her a gift with the number of guards that are roaming the town these days. We could give her the new quilt I made. I don't think they've seen it yet."

"She'd like that." He nodded. "You could bake a pie," he added.

Footsteps sounded to her right. Leila came from around the corner, and walked through her, peeking into the window. Aurelie gasped and stepped away.

Leila turned, her eyes glowing yellow. Her expression had lost all liveliness, the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust. Her eyes were just like those Aurelie had seen in the woods. Her nails formed into long claws. She leaped towards Aurelie and growled.

Aurelie screamed and held her arms out in front of her. There was no impact, she moved her arms away just enough to see what was in front of her.

She was back in her room, tucked safely into bed. The tray of food is still placed on the white bedside table. Drops of sweat ran down her forehead and her back. She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand and steadied her breath, unsure of what just happened. If it had been a dream, she had never had one as vivid before, and if it had not been a dream, what the hell was she supposed to make of all of it?