Strange Aeons [Book 1]

11. Trial and Error [part III]

Four mages entered, positioning themselves on different points of the circumference. The two Covens regrouped at the opposite ends of the arena. In the Pollos' corner the tension was palpable, as the four mages started preparing for the ritual.

«Jefe, what the hell?» Chico was in panic «the Oneiron? Nobody ever talked about Oneiron, why aren't we busting their sorry asses in the mundo real?»

«The wills projected in the Oneiron have a different strength whether their owners are deeply convinced to be in the right or in the wrong. Wrong-side wills almost always lose. This is why these trials take place in the Land of Dreams.»

«The Oneiron is peligroso!» Chico was clearly rattled. «Nobody knows how that dimension works! You're not supposed to go there! You just go there when you dream! It's a completely crazy place with no rules!»

«That's why you go there only in will, and not in person. Is just like dreaming. Nothing bad can happen to you in the Oneiron when you dream, or none of us would ever wake up from a nightmare!» Garaham reminded him. «So, man up, and just remember that you are strong, because you are right. But watch out for my brother: River does seem, and is, an idiot, but he's extremely powerful and a great fighter.» one could feel how painful it was for him to say such things.

The four mages organized the ritual in roughly one hour. Enough time to prepare for all of them, all but one. Banshee had been distracted for the full hour, hardly participated to the discussion or the planning.

Six camp beds had been brought on the two sides of the arena, to leave the central space free and ready to show what would have gone on in the Oneiron. Algernon returned, with the grimiest expression on his face, and laid down on his bed, before the Judge's chair. Justin, on the sides, simply hollered a "Good luck everyone" and sat down.

Each one of them laid down on one of them and were given a stone. They were what looked like normal river stones, well levigated, completely engraved with runes and symbols, glowing of a soft yellow light. They were instructed to put them on their foreheads, lie down, close their eyes and follow the fluxes they'd see.

In front of each one of them appeared a web of fluxes, but there was a clear path of yellow ones. A path they followed, until they reach a blinding, sick light.

Chico felt without breath, like after a long run. He soon realized he wasn't out of breath. The air itself, surrounding him, was somewhat heavy, like a breathable liquid, crawling up and down his windpipe. While taking his time to adapt to the situation, he looked around.

He was alone.

It was amazing and terrifying at the same time.

Over him, there was what looked a fuzzy, multicolor sky, multifaceted and rippled, as if he was looking at a hanging sea from below. The colors melted and separated, but even if they were in the hundreds of thousands, probably even ones he had never seen before, the air immediately around him had a strange yellowish feeling.

Under his boots, the desiccated, brown grass crackled and crumbled, but instead of pulverizing as the noise would suggest, it turned into a strange, viscous, translucid ichor, sticking uncomfortably to his soles. Dark brown and dried, as desiccated by an endless draught, stood dead trees, rising their thirsty branches to the liquid sky as in a prayer.

Chico sighed, and tried to walk towards a randomly chosen direction.

After some walking he saw a figure in the distance.

At first, he was quite sure it was another eye-corner hallucination, but as he got closer, he recognized he was not.

It was clearly Irissa. She was clad in a majestic dress made of shining ice, and was wandering around, looking around, as if lost.