71 Ashan 719
Vast stretches of shelves expanded outward in every direction. The Veil, populated with endless books and scrolls that led to endless dreams, was much the same as Magpie remembered. Already they had passed through his own dreamscape, mostly formless given that once he’d finally managed to traverse the thin, ethereal boundary between the waking world and the Emean mindscape, he hadn’t had much time to think of anything. Kiwi had opened the door to the Veil, as easily as he always did, assuring him that, in time, Magpie would be much the same.
He’d wondered why Kiwi hadn’t had him practice that as well but chalked it up to impatience. Kiwi, in spite of his general aloof demeanor, seemed very keen on things functioning correctly and efficiently. It wouldn’t have surprised Magpie if the other man had simply run out of his allotted patience for the trial. At least, he supposed, he now understood what it was to cross into Emea.
With his body - his true body, scarred and weary as ever - he found that Emea felt much, much different. He could almost taste the ether in the air, the sheer quantity of power that swirled and whirled throughout his dreamscape, more potent and saturated that anything he’d ever experienced before. It was exhilarating, like diving into a cool, crystal clear lake. Though his physical fatigue remained, his soul felt lighter, stronger, freer. There was a magic to Emea, more so than he’d ever realized.
The Veil, however, was something different. Ether was still plentiful, but it was subdued, far more similar to the waking world, in fact. His sparks did not twitch and fidget within him, begging to be used as they had in his dreamscape, rather they were, more or less, content to wait for his command, his will.
And then there were the “doors”, as Kiwi and Humming had called them. For Magpie's perception, the Veil was a vast library of sorts, filled with scrolls and books that each housed entrance into the minds of those who dreamt on Idalos. He wondered what Kiwi saw, what Humming saw, as both described the layout as barren and empty. Was it a reflection of soul? Of mind? Or something more?
“Have you had the chance to investigate the Veil, Mister Magpie?” Kiwi asked, staring off into the distance.
“Not to the extent I would like to,” he answered simply.
“I see.” The smaller man waved a hand in vague gesture to their surroundings. “Though, generally, trespassing into another’s dreamscape is relatively… uneventful-” The way he said that word seemed to imply that Miss Humming would have had a much more colorful thing to say about it. “-there are certain dangers that come with traversing through the Veil with your physical body.”
“The first, and perhaps most important,” he calmly continued, “Is that you can now be harmed.”
“I couldn’t be harmed before?” he asked, feeling slightly naive about saying it but he did so anyway. He supposed he hadn’t truly thought about it in great depth until this moment.
Though Kiwi was most certainly not a shoulder to cry upon, one of the few benefits about his lack of expression was that he didn’t seem to harbor much condescending pity when it came to what otherwise might have been foolish questions. “Not physically, no,” he replied, not a hint in his voice that the question was not a worthy one - though neither that it was a deserving one either. “You experienced pain before, yes, but now that pain will directly translate to your body rather than harmlessly affect your mind.”
Magpie nodded, though he didn’t say anything in response until a few trills went by and he asked, “And the second thing?”
“Nightmares,” Kiwi plainly replied. “Miss Humming claims them to be agents of a…” He waved a hand, almost dismissively had his tone changed at all. “God of dreams, or the like.” It stood to reason, for all Kiwi’s peculiarities, he was not fond of the immortals or their offspring as any other Quacian might be. “Whatever their source, Nightmares are dangerous and, if possible, best avoided.”
“How does one recognize the presence of these Nightmares?” inquired Magpie.
“It may be a better question to ask how does one not recognize their presence,” Kiwi corrected, though without much force to it. “If you have not encountered a Nightmare before, consider yourself fortunate. The dreamscape shifts, the dreamer awakens, and there is a…” He paused, blinking twice, before continuing. “A force. It is difficult to describe, but you will be able to… sense it.” His voice grew quieter, Kiwi’s equivalent of warning. “And it will be able to sense you.”
“Have you dealt with them before?” Magpie walked around the space where they were. He traced a finger over one of the books that laid on a table in his perception, though he didn’t pick it up and he looked at Kiwi inquisitively.
“I have,” Kiwi nodded. “Several. They are not to be trifled with.” There was finality in his voice that suggested he didn’t have much else to say on the matter of Nightmares other than repeating how dangerous they were. Odd for Kiwi to step so close to fear, but indicative of the seriousness of the issue, Magpie supposed.
“And thirdly,” he continued, “It is best not to wake dreamers. Lucidity can be unpredictable and, generally, will garner the attention of Nightmares.” He paused. “Though it does not guarantee their arrival, as you have surely realized yourself. But there is little need to take unnecessary risks.”
“Oh,” said Magpie and he hoped the guilt wasn’t too obvious in his voice. Kiwi didn’t seem to respond to it, but that didn’t mean a whole lot when it came to recognition. He cleared his throat, averted his gaze, and folded his hands at his lower back. “I have met… a couple dreamers before you and Miss Humming. But they were not the same as you two.”
“Then you are very fortunate to not have encountered any Nightmares.” Kiwi offered, neither reprimand or compliment in his tone. “Should you be forced to face one of them, however, know that its most effective to utilize your magic against them. Dreamscapes allow you to drain the ether from the area, from the Nightmare itself to an extent, weakening it enough that you might either escape or... dispatch it.”
“And how does one dispatch it?” Magpie asked, both curious and enthusiastic to learn.
“How indeed,” nodded Kiwi. “Some are more… clear than others. There is a… a core, of a kind, a… weakness that becomes apparent. Some Nightmares, even with this failing revealed, may still prove too difficult to manage, while others might be so uncertain that there is no telling whether it is revealed or not. They vary in strength and capability, as much as the many dreamscapes themselves.”
“Fascinating,” mused the blond biqaj. He crossed his arms and tapped his index finger against the center of his lips. He peered down at Kiwi’s feet. “And I am able to utilize my magic here?” Kiwi nodded. “In a way that can actually be useful against such creatures?” Kiwi nodded again, though slower this time. “But they are varied rather than… consistent like a beast such as a… ferahorn would be? Of which, they remain mostly the same when it comes to execution.”
“Correct,” Kiwi nodded for a third time. “Where creatures of the creep all share a vulnerability to fire, Nightmares rarely ever are the same in both ability and defect. Though,” he paused, considering, “I suppose, in a way, Nightmares do function similarly in respect to a creepheart. Eliminate the... ‘heart’ and the Nightmare will fade.”
“Oh!” Magpie exclaimed. His eyes lit up with rose pink and white colors in the irises. He smiled. “I understand that. I have done that. Not with magic though, well, not only with magic.”
“Then you are familiar with the basic concept,” Kiwi acknowledged. “Again, know that you gain nothing from slaying a Nightmare, as a dreamwalker or elsewise. Conflict with them is best avoided if possible.”
Whether the lesson sunk in to Magpie’s beliefs or not, it wasn’t clear as the biqaj’s gaze averted again. His smile lingered and he seemed to be in thought about something.
Kiwi, however, seemed to take his silence at face value. “Now then,” he continued, turning from the other man to face the greater expanse of the Veil. “Choose a door, if you would, Mister Magpie.”
“A… oh, okay,” said Magpie, brought out of his momentary thoughts. He turned and looked at the infinite amount of books and scrolls that lay in the library of dreams before him. The biqaj man paced along the shelves, then plucked a scroll from the lot. He looked over to Kiwi and asked, “And now?”
“Step through.”
Magpie’s dark brows knitted together. He looked at the scroll. Gradually, he brought his thumbs to the center, then he unfurled the parchment. It fell much longer than he expected and the bounds of the edges bled into the surrounding space before him. The library almost seemed to flicker in and out of existence before all Magpie could see was the scroll itself. He followed the instinct combined with the instruction...
And he stepped through.
