It's funny how when someone has a lucid dream, it's different things that one picks up on that give away that it's just a dream. Oburon immediately noticed all his aches were gone, for Caitlyn it was the dark surroundings. Hjalmar felt on edge and his gut just knew this was neither the waking world, nor was this a normal dream. Anwyn noticed how the ground below her feet felt, or rather, didn't feel. It was fuzzy and the girl with the pink hair found it hard to concentrate on this sensation. It was as if her brain was chasing her away from this give away. Last, but not least, there was Yaz, who noticed from the lack of input for the senses. The smell was different, more subtle, the colours less vivid.
All of them were there in the same place, but oddly enough they could neither hear nor see anyone else. It was like their visions had been filtered to not include the others, maybe because this was an unusual dream. It was a magical dream, not one of natural origin.
There was a boy. His name was Mentirix, he was rather weedy with a pair of broken glasses that barely stayed on his piggy nose. Even in this dreamscape, he couldn't help but look awkward. Oburon, Hjalmar and Caitlyn didn't attempt to greet him. Anwyn gave him a big wide smile and a wave, intruiged by this odd and mismatched figure. Yaz greeted him, her head tilted slightly as she called out, "Hello!" The sensation of her hair falling to one side was another hint that this was not reality, normally it would be off her face, held back by a headscarf.
Mentirix's face remained blank, he couldn't hear Yaz. In reality he stood in a darkened room, in a sort of trance like state, three green candles lit. Oburon noticed the reflection of them in Mentirix's eyes, yet didn't bother to remark.
"Hello, good day, can you hear me?"
Immediately, the young mage pushed his glasses back up his nose, his voice had a rather oboe-like quality. It also had a slightly nasal aspect to it. Anwyn was already wondering what it would sound like if the man were to sing, maybe it would truly hold a melody like an oboe...
Once again, the kid was pushing his glasses further up, "That was stupid, forgive me. It's impossible for me to hear a response. Let's just hope for the best, I guess."
Caitlyn involuntarily raised an eyebrow. Hjalmar just wished this could be a normal dream. Tea had some weird obsession with lucid dreaming, hence he knew they didn't tend to be so refreshing, which was rather irritating, for he would need all the energy he could get the next day. Army life was not a walk in the park. If this was some kind of special dream, could this kid just get on with it?
"I am talking to you because the world is in great danger. Lypera may be facing its greatest threat yet," he explained. Anwyn's eyes grew wide, her little mouth forming a small O, while Caitlyn still remained cool and stoic. Yaz and Hjalmar both looked a tad confused, though Hjalmar was trying to conceal it more than Yaz, and there was just a glint to Oburon's eyes that showed sadness.
"And where do I come in?", muttered Hjalmar, though he had this terrible feeling he already knew.
Almost as if he'd heard the soldier, Mentirix began to walk while explaining, "You may have heard stories of chosen ones. People selected by mages to save the world when it is at peril. Well," - he genuinely did jazz hands since he felt he required a gesture, but couldn't think of an appropriate one, - "you're the chosen one!"
Caitlyn's mouth twisted into a frown, Oburon seemed rather emotionless on the outside, but was terrified on the inside. Anwyn's "O" widened and her face lit up like a lightbulb as she filled up with excitement and childlike glee. Yaz was clearly surprised and though she couldn't quite figure out how she felt, she knew that she would have to honour this and would fulfill her destiny or whatever this was. Though it was harder to take from a boy who thought jazz hands were an appropriate gesture under circumstances such as these. Meanwhile Hjalmar... It was hard to know what he was thinking. On the one hand, the task ahead was daunting, on the other hand he was sure he was up to it. He had training, he had a weapon. A little fancy danced in the corner of his mind as he thought of the social implications this new found importance could have. People would see him differently, especially once he'd come back and proven himself. Maybe things would fall into place, his little fairytale ending, or rather, as close to that as existed in this cruel world.
"I cannot tell you what is ahead. I don't really know, but the danger is real and I saw it. I've seen visions..."
Mentirix shook, dramatically, his face growing paler with each word, making his ginger hair look rather like fire. There was this hollowness to him, this fragility. It seemed as if he really was haunted.
He continued, "Make your way towards Belmoth Tower. In three days time you will recieve further instructions. Well, more like, guidance. I wish you luck."
Already he seemed to be disconnecting. Yaz had so many questions but she remembered what he'd said about not being able to hear them. Anwyn did not.
"Wait! What's the vegetation like there!? Are there lots of animal shaped clouds?"
It was probably beneficial that Mentirix couldn't hear her, maybe that would have made him revoke her chosen one rights. Then again, why couldn't that have been precisely why he had chosen her? Clearly it demonstrated an ability to think out of the box and attention to detail.
They woke up, each in their own place, aside from Caitlyn, who drifted into another dream, this time not a lucid one. Oburon stared at the ceiling, the bamboo floor pressing against his back. The idea of leaving this family was in part enticing, but also triggered guilt. He owed so much to this family, they had been with him for a long time and had always treated him well. Of course he was expected to be their interpreter, no matter how much pain it caused him, but they had good hearts.
The floor creaked as he stood up and headed down the stairs, into the main room. There was a leather bag slung over his left shoulder, in it a spare robe and a letter from his mother, a keepsake. He searched the moonlit room until he eventually found a slate and chalk, then placed them on the table and took a seat.
What to write? The truth was unbelievable. Lying felt wrong. What about something inbetween? It seemed impossible, but it was clear to him that he needed something with gravity, something that the family hopefully wouldn't hold against him. The letter in his bag gave him an idea.
He wrote in quick bold strokes, hurrying to be done, then took a piece of dry bread and dipped it in Cabeera jelly, before heading out the door. He felt awful for leaving them, as well as for taking the bread. But if he was the chosen one now, it must be acceptable.
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A/N: This is probably the shortest chapter in the whole book. This is thanks to me reading writing advice that pointed out that chapters don't have to be a consistent length and should be based on logical narrative breaks. Thank you, writing advice, for in part making my life harder.
I'm sorry, but Hjalmar was just a mood in this chapter. To be honest, most of what I've written with Hjalmar so far has had him be a mood. Aside from one comment in chapter four (I just finished that chapter).
I know you barely know them so far, but who do you think was meant to be the chosen one? Or maybe there's somebody you're sure isn't meant to be it.
Have you got ideas for what the threat might be?
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Lucidity
Fantasi{ WILL BE EDITED IN JANUARY 2021 } The world of Lypera is in great peril. The young mage Mentirix had visions of this danger and fulfilled his duty by selecting a chosen one. There is however an abnormality; Mentirix contacted five people. Anwyn, Ya...
