Soulwalker

Chapter 2: Moonlight

On the ever-shifting plane of timeless dreamscape, the Mist gathered into a swirling vortex. The formation solidified into the form of a man. He was dressed in indigo robes flecked with stars. He was pale, and his skin seemed to shimmer. His hair was black, and he had great black wings that swept around his body. He stepped forward, making no sound, letting his wings trail behind him. He moved softly, gently, his face kind and yet serious. He seemed to glide, as though blown by a gentle breeze.

The girl standing in front of him was young, just barely a woman. She had long black hair and striking blue eyes. She wasn't so much standing as floating— her feet touched nothing physical. Her expression was vacant. She stood out as though she didn't belong in the dreamscape, existing there but not truly there.

He knew she wouldn't remember, but he would tell her. Maybe her conscious mind would register its importance. But he had no control over her conscious mind.

"I am Morpheus, the God of Dreams. Aisling, you are a shaman, a Soulwalker. Few have the gift to travel to the other side. You must learn to use it. I will send you a guide to help you. Then you can find your father." Morpheus touched Aisling's forehead, she faded, and with a flap of his great wings, he too dissipated into mist.

In the silver-half light of a full moon, a girl lay silently on the cool grass. The summer air was soft and warm. Clouds hid the moon's face, giving the world a blurred quality. There were no colors, no contrasts, just the dark of the world under the bright light shining through the screen of the clouds.

To Aisling, it looked like another world, lingering between space and time. It was around midnight, but the light made it look as if dawn would come at any moment. It seemed to her that magic had been laid over the world like a silken blanket. If she reached out towards the silver sky, she could almost touch it.

Aisling was the kind of girl who noticed things, little things. Things that other people might think were insignificant. Like the flash of a firefly in the treetops. Like a falling leaf. Like the contrast between earth and sky at this lingering time. Aisling felt as though it was her job to notice the things that no one else noticed. Like today, she had noticed something alive under a bush and found a stray cat. It was a black cat with bright orange eyes. It had been raining, and the cat was wet and cold. She brought the cat inside, dried him off and fed him. Hopefully her mother would let her keep him for longer than just a few days, but just in case, she had not named him yet. It was best not to become too attached to him.

He was outside with her tonight. He had been stalking mice in the underbrush near the woods, but now he lay beside her on the grass. There was something calming about being outside at midnight. When her eyes adjusted, she could see some of the detail in the earth around her, but when she looked at the sky, it would become a blur again. It made her feel as if she was floating. The contrast of earth and sky, the full moon, the energy of other. It was very dreamlike. This was an almost familiar feeling to Aisling; she had always been interested in the dream world and the things in it. This was as close as she could possibly get to it on the physical plane.

She tried to remember the dream she had the previous night. It was about a man with wings who told her something very important. She knew the man was Morpheus, the God of Dreams. She did not remember what the important thing was, and the frustration was overpowering. She remembered one thing that he had said to her, a word: Soulwalker. Whatever that meant, she had no idea.

The cat looked up and gave her a bored, slightly annoyed look.

Aisling sighed. Since she was a little girl, she had longed to do magic. Her mother told her that magic was a silly thing, something little kids dreamed up. You could not actually do magic! Aisling wanted to believe there was such thing as magic, but she always found it hard. Dragons were not real; you never saw one. People could not do magic; no one ever had. Portals to magical worlds did not exist.

Aisling was determined to believe in magic. Since she was little she believed you needed to stumble into a magic Otherworld, like the heroes of storybooks did. She had made a dream catcher that she pretended was a portal, and she kept waiting to be pulled into it to some mythic land. she spent many spring days making fairy houses and looking for unicorns in the woods. More than anything, she wanted to do magic, though she was not sure how. She wanted to know things, know what wise wizards and sages knew, know the secrets written on ancient scrolls. But if you were not born with magical powers, it seemed you had no hope of getting them... but, at least that was better than the idea that magic didn't exist at all.

She still never found that secret Otherworld. She never found Wonderland; no rabbit hole was big enough for her. Rabbits did not talk, anyway, and they certainly did not carry pocket watches. She had never seen a unicorn, never found a real portal. She kept waiting for the magical turning point, but it had never happened. She was so close, and yet so far! The closest she got to this mythic land of magical beings were full moon nights like this— and dreams.

Dreams were her passion. She was very interested in dreams. Remembering them, figuring out what they meant, understanding the people in them, and remembering the dreamscapes. Eventually, she wanted to learn to lucid dream.

She was pulled out of her memories, her longings, by a loud "Meow."

"Come on, kitty," said Aisling, putting out her candle and gathering her things. The cat stretched and reluctantly followed Aisling into her house. It glanced behind it at the moon and blinked.

When she woke up the next morning, Aisling strived to remember the dream she had. She knew it had something to do with her father, but she did not know her father. "Mom? Who was my father?"

Her mother stopped making breakfast to look at her. Her eyes glazed over, and her mind was filled with the memory of a dashing young man with ebony hair and laughing blue eyes, with the most beautiful, devious smile. He had been eccentric, unpredictable, and enticing. Aisling was his spitting image. "I saw him only once."

Aisling immediately understood. "Oh."

"He was a strange man. Interested in psychic things, in worlds that didn't exist. Foolish fantasy. I tried to find him again after I knew I was going to have you, but—" She shook her head, muttering. She had wanted to marry him, but he vanished. "Why do you ask?"

"I had a dream that I think had something to do with my father."

"Oh. Just a dream." Though Aisling's mother never wanted to place any kind of faith in dreams, she had seen Aisling's father in a dream once. He told her what he wanted his daughter to be named. Just a dream, it had been; just a dream, but she still named her daughter Aisling, to remember him.

"Yes... just a dream."