In My Dreams

Storytime travels

Rok sat by the fireplace as he carved down a small block of wood with a knife. He waited patiently in Aronin's manor while Clara got ready in the upstairs bedroom.

Aronin had assigned a maid to help her bathe and dress. In the meantime, Aronin sat in his office room with Rok. The stone brick walls had paintings of ancestors on the walls, each more sullen than the last. Glass cabinets lined the walls, holding hundreds of glass bottles filled with ingredients for potions. The office desk had a stuffed crow on the corner of it, wearing a bright blue cape and a wizard's hat. The wooden floor was covered in a large circular carpet with swirls and spirals of astronomical symbols on it. The fireplace was on the other side of the room where an armchair and a small futon stood in front of it. Above them hung a candle-lit chandelier of welded metal. Aronin checked on Urick's wellbeing with a large orb on his office desk while Rok carved. 

A witch in Xakar Kingdom. Aronin was quite intrigued to find this new turn of events. If the king finds out there's an existing witch, he'll send hellfire to hunt her down and kill her. This new king didn't much care for magic folk. Aronin had been taught in the wizard arts in a secret society, along with Urick and Orgron. It was a holy revered profession set to preserve the arts despite the king's wishes to destroy it. Aronin couldn't quite blame him. There was one enchantress in particular who ruined the arts for everyone. Cursing people as she wishes, destroying cities, overtaking dark creatures, plotting whatever evil scheme she had next. No one knew where she came from or why she hated this kingdom so much, but they knew one thing that mattered. She was dangerously powerful. 

Maybe this girl—Clara—was a sign. Maybe the magical arts would return to the surface. An offering from the Mirror Realm has never wielded magic before. And they never survived this long while the Notherbeast was out there. She was quite interesting, indeed. 

"Better?" Aronin looked up to see Clara standing in an evergreen gown matching her green eyes and jet black hair. He blinked a couple of times. He coughed, clearing his throat. 

"Yes, indeed. How do you feel?" Aronin said.

Rok looked between him and Clara and turned back to his carving. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

Clara smiled, "Better now that I'm not hanging from the ceiling. I'm really sorry about that. I had a nightmare and I guess my...magic...sent me flying. I'm still trying to wrap this whole thing around my head." She looked at her hands, wiggling her fingers. 

"The magical arts takes much time and practice to master. It is a long and treacherous practice, but the most rewarding one nonetheless," Aronin nodded. He stood up and held out his hand. 

Clara looked at his hand and rose an eyebrow. "I'm not going to let you kiss my hand. You may be of this world and do these customs, but where I come from, we do this." She grabbed his hand and shook it in the air. 

He stared at her, bewildered. He barked out a laugh. "Strange customs."

"Not any stranger than putting your lips on a stranger's hands. That's asking for a disease," Clara retorted. 

Aronin laughed nervously and withdrew his hand. She was definitely unusual. 

"Thank you for helping me yesterday, Rok. I don't know if I ever told you." Clara turned to Rok. 

Rok looked up from his carving, swallowing nervously. She looked so much stronger than when he had first found her. She stood tall in her dress, her head raised. He remembered the tears in her eyes in those woods, slouching into a small form, her hands twitching. Was it the magic making her strong? Or something more? He nodded, solemn. He slowly stood and walked toward her, the wood floor creaking under his massive weight. 

"To focus your magic," he said. He held out a beautifully carved wand, with an etched vine spiraling the handle. 

Her eyes widened like the eyes of an owl. "You can talk?" Her mouth hung open. 

Rok cleared his throat. He nodded at Aronin. Aronin shrugged, sticking his hands into his pant pockets. "It's temporary. It's not strong enough to overcome his curse completely, but at least we don't have to try so hard to understand Orcish. No offense, chum," Aronin said. 

"A curse?" Clara said, distracted as she held up the wand and analyzed its details. She smiled in awe. "This is so beautiful. Thank you, Rok. Really." Rok nodded nervously and went back to his chair by the fireplace. 

Aronin sighed and sat in his office chair again. He leant back and laid his legs on his desk, his ankles crossed. "He hasn't told you."

Clara held the wand to her chest as she sat in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. "How could he? The only way I could understand him is by touching him. This...magic seemed to translate his thoughts to me."

"By...touching him?" Aronin's eyes glinted and a grin crept on his lips, his teeth shining. Rok growled, baring his own teeth and tusks. 

Clara blushed and scowled. "Make that face again and I'll make sure the next one flying to the ceiling is you."

Aronin burst out laughing. "Duly noted, my Lady. Yes, there's a curse. Along with many other sorry folk in the kingdom."

"What curse? Who cast it? Does this have something to do with that thing you talked about—the Notherbeast?"

Aronin sighed and folded his hands. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right. Rok, hold onto something. I know how you get." He turned to Clara, "He's quite sensitive to motion sickness." 

"What are you talking ab—WOAH!" Clara screeched and clamped her nails into the arms of her chair as the air around them shifted and their surroundings vanished.