The Ardent and The Bard

Chapter 8: Theory and Facts

Shade opened his eyes. Morning light dripped through the cracks in the drapes. He could hear songbirds. He squinted. He was in the Hall of Champions. Where else would he be? He and Cole had just gotten back from dinner with Minceraft.

No, that wasn't right. They had left the Hall hours ago. He was sure of it. Cole was lying on his bed of cushions. His eyes shut. It must be the morning after they returned from Mourning. Cole was resting after the day's events.

Right? Shade wasn't sure any more. It was a weird sensation. This feeling that he could barely recall what happened moments before he had opened his eyes, mixed with the certainty that whatever part he was forgetting was important. Did that make sense? He shook his head. It was a feeling unfamiliar to him.

"We're here" Cole said suddenly. Shade was so caught up in his own thoughts that he almost jumped at the bard's voice.

"The realm of dreams."

It all came rushing back to Shade. Their journey to the Feywild. Their meeting with the Prince. Their fight with Razcoreth. He was in Aisling'Am. How could he forget that?

"You alright?" Cole asked, a benign smile on his face.

"It's strange" Shade said "I couldn't remember what I was doing before we got here. Then you spoke and the details all flashed in at once."

"Welcome to the feeling of waking from a good dream" the bard was standing now, taking in his surroundings.

"I don't like it" Shade said, standing as well.

Cole gave a small laugh in spite of himself. His journal was already out as he surveyed the room. He picked up one of the books off the shelf.

"Figures," he said with a smirk as he flipped through it, "all gibberish. The mind isn't as good at remembering words on the page as it is with physical objects."

He tossed the book to Shade who confirmed its illegibility.

"So this realm is made of our memories?" Shade asked.

"Sort of. You can only really picture something that you've seen before, yeah? The mind can't create a new face, only alterations to a face its already seen."

"I wouldn't know" Shade said honestly.

"Right..." Cole said. He was sniffing the air now. "Dreams are fantasies you can feel made of memories. That's the best way to describe it."

"I follow you so far" Shade said "so what's out that door?"

Cole looked at the great door that served as the exit to the hall. He got a wild grin on his face as he turned to the scarecrow.

"Let's find out."

He opened the door to find an exact mirror of the room they were currently in. Cole walked into the "new" room like such a thing was normal. Shade was hesitant, as he was only used to such sights as the result of illusionary magic.

"Feel any strange compulsions?" Cole asked between notes in his journal.

"Like what?"

"Sometimes the 'plot' of a dream can change suddenly as the subconscious shifts. One moment you're about to reconnect with a lost love, the next you're building a canoe."

"I'm not feeling any desire to build a canoe" Shade affirmed "I feel like I normally do."

"Me too. I suppose we really are here physically, completely in control of ourselves. What one might call a 'lucid' dream."

Cole pocketed his journal. He went to scratch out some loose particle in his eyelashes only to pause upon touching his face.

"Do I still have the mask on?"