Journey of Phantasia: The Dream-Weaver

Part 3: The Reawakening

Ayan jolted upright. His heart rushed and white flashes fell over his vision as he looked around. "Where... What?" He wasn't in the swamp any longer. The air here wasn't clammy, and there was plenty of sun. Odd... Instead, He was in a field, not purple and pink but lush green, and at the edge of a haystack. Sheep walked here, and at the horizon he could see the mountaintops. Was he home? He breathed in deep, and smelled the air and the hay, and the flowers and the grass in the field. He felt refreshed and comfortable, like he'd had a great rest. That was odd too. Because he knew he slept terribly these past few nights. He got up and gave where he was a better look. There was something moving inside the haystack...

"Hello, Ayan."

"Vuraria!" Ayan called out. He ran to the haystack and spread his arms for a hug. He plummeted straight against her and they fell deeper into the hay, laughing. "Am I glad to see you!" Ayan laughed, before he rolled off to sit in the haystack. "Let's go find the others. Knowing Lousine and Albedo, they're not too far away-"

Vuraria grabbed his arm before he could leave. "No, stay." She nuzzled closer to him and restricted more of his movement. Ayan yanked and tugged, but didn't get loose. "Just for a moment. I've had a terrible sleep before you got here." Ayan shrugged. This was very Vuraria-like behaviour. He sighed and laid back in the hay. But he veered up again, and looked at Vuraria who lay snuggled by his side with her eyes closed.
"How long have you been here, then?"

No response.
Now Ayan got suspicious. He plucked some hay-strands out of his hair and looked more closely at Vuraria. Was that... Locks in her ears?
"How did we get out of the swamps? Did we carry you?"

Vuraria grumbled. "Will you shut up and just sleep with me?" Ayan frowned, and yanked himself loose with a hard pull from his arm. He jumped out of the hay before he noticed the sky turning dark... And oddly purple.

He looked over his shoulder to see Vuraria lean on her arms, then, in front of his eyes, turn into a giant, angry black dog.
"I said, SLEEP."
Ayan felt his heart pound in his throat. He could now clearly see the locks on Vuraria's ears. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. He wanted to run first, but felt his legs had almost sunken into the floor. He couldn't leave. He took deep shivery breaths and prepared for a fight as the giant black Vuraria-dog lunged for him with deadly fangs.
"No!" He shouted. "You're not real! This isn't real!"

He knew he was right when he finally woke up, back in the clearing of the swamp. He gasped for air, tears in his eyes and a cold clammy feeling cast over him like a blanket in the airtight swamp. His eyes felt like they were made of lead, his throat was dry and his head pounded, but he was awake.

His friends weren't.

The extravagant sleep-magic-man in the coat was nowhere to be found, and neither were the guards, so Ayan crawled around the clearing to try and get his friends to wake up. All of them had those glowing, purple locks in their ears. Ethereal, so not bound to the flesh, but rather bound to the dreams and the soul of the victim. They moved, and shifted around, but never woke. Ayan had no way to wake them up. He didn't want to make noise, he had nothing to carry water with, and the road was too long to get any help. And knowing he couldn't save his friends made him horribly, horribly sad. He didn't want to leave them here. He'd rather wait until one of them woke up, or until the fancy sleep-magic-man came back. He lay in-between his sleeping friends, on his side, with his knees raised high, his head down and his arms over his head, weeping.

In the dream of her own, Vuraria had a far more pleasant experience with Ayan. She and her were feasting and laughing in the cosiest tavern she'd ever been in, all on Albedo's tab. They hung shoulder-to-shoulder, her, Ayan, and Lousine, begrudgingly. They laughed and drank and sang for ages, it seemed. Never once did she bothered to look for the locks, or for any wisp of purple, or any other signs. The night was young and endless, the drinks were overflowing, and the mood got more and more jolly.