Llyr stepped through the crystal door, departed the Veil, and held tight to Wren's hand. He didn’t know what laid on the other side, but he instinctively felt it wasn’t a dreamscape. The sense reminded him of a time before, from that arc's Saun season.
The door to the Veil vanished behind them. A gentle breeze drifted through what looked to be a never-ending landscape of green meadows. In every direction were rolling hills of lush grass and wildflowers. Trees dappled in spots on certain ridges, full of lively leaves and healthy branches. He caught the familiar rippling sounds of a nearby brook, likely just over the nearest hill.
Comfortable, in every way, the temperature wasn’t too hot or cold. Insects flitted about, but they didn’t land on them or aim to sting. They seemed accepting of the intrusion to what Llyr could only view as another world entirely. This wasn’t Idalos, it wasn’t the Veil, and it wasn’t anything like anywhere he’d ever been before. Still, he could draw comparisons to Idalos. The way the breeze felt comforting as it lifted his hair away from his scarred forehead. The hummed buzz of insects and demure wildlife going about the trial to come. The blue sky of fluffy white clouds and the fair warmth of sunrise.
The world appeared to be the perfect Ymiden trial, at the height of the vibrant season and without any harshness or imposing juxtaposed elements to dull the seasonal beauty.
“Is this where you wanted to go?” He looked down at the boy. Wren nodded.
They walked along a pebbled and dirt path that curved along the eased slope of a hill. When they reached the rounded ridge, Llyr felt his soul subsumed by a significant sense of awe. It truly was a land of summertime in its ultimate magnificence. The sun remained on the horizon, as if locked in perpetual dawn.
If he sat down on the grass, he could imagine staying here forever, eternally happy. His eyes welled with tears, but he managed to keep from letting any droplets fall. He composed himself for the sake of the child beside him. No matter how unusual Wren acted, how sober of thought the boy seemed, Llyr still noticed the need for help from someone older. Wren might have been the one waiting for him in the Veil, but Llyr felt the instinct to protect the wandering boy all the same.
“It’s beautiful here, yes?” he asked the child dreamwalker. Not much of an answer came from the quiet lad beyond a nod. Lly hesitated, then asked, “Is this your home?”
Wren’s nose scrunched and his brows raised. He shot a look of bafflement at the biqaj, then laughed, “No.”
“You act very calm for your age,” observed Llyr aloud. “As if you’ve visited here before… or a place like it? Wren, how is it that you were made a dreamwalker? You’re so young...”
No answer came. Instead, Wren let go of his hand. He walked along the hilltop, and Llyr followed. The boy wasn’t forthcoming. If it was a trick of hostility, lying in wait, Llyr wouldn’t concern himself with it until it made itself known.
The mage stretched out his gossamer wings. He lifted off the ground and followed a handful of butterflies in darted, erratic flight. Wren jumped slightly, startled by the sudden flight of the biqaj past him. Llyr spun himself around, then landed in a purposeful somersault. He rolled down the hill. As soon as he landed at the bottom of the slope, grass stuck in his white-blond hair, he called to Wren, “Roll down. It’s fun! There are no roots or anything to hurt you.”
Wren shuffled his feet. He looked side to side, then lowered to sit on the hilltop. Llyr waved in encouragement for him to roll. Finally, the boy decided to give it a try. He laid on his side, then weakly rolled aside. Gravity helped the motion along, the lush grass temporarily flattened under his path, and Wren very slowly rolled down. Limbs awkward, arms at his sides, and a few kicks to keep the slow momentum so he wouldn't stop midway on the hill, eventually Wren landed at the foot of the hill. He stared at the sky, eyes wide with what Llyr assumed had to be curiosity.
“That was so…” the mage considered, then said, “uh… safe of you. Come along, I’ll show you how to roll down a hill properly.”
Llyr took Wren’s hand, helped him to his feet, then hiked up the hill. He sat on the top of the slope, then patted for Wren to do so as well. The mage smiled then he wrapped an arm around Wren’s shoulders. He outstretched his other arm to gesture toward the hill before them. He said, “First, we look for any rocks or roots or things to avoid. Do you see any?”
Wren shook his head 'no'.
“If you did, then we’d choose to avoid them in our path down. And check that it is not too steep, otherwise we could go much too fast without control,” explained Llyr. He ruffled the blond hair of the boy, then he crossed his arms over his chest. “Put your arms like this, hands near your shoulders.”
Wren copied the crossed arms in front of his chest, hands on opposite shoulders. “Like this?”
“Yes, exactly!” Llyr’s smile brightened into a grin. “That’s it. You’re a quick learner, Wren. Now, we lay down…”
He shuffled away to get some room for his lanky body, then laid along the edge of the hilltop. He waited until the boy also laid in the grass. “Keep yourself together, as if you are a tree standing strong against a wind. If you want to go faster, you can lift your arms above your head like so,”-he demonstrated, then returned to the crossed arms-“otherwise keep them here, legs together, draw your body weight back… and then tilt yourself over the slope. Follow the downward pull of the soil. Ready?”
“I think so?” said Wren. The boy wiggled, testing the placement of his arms, but he looked uncertain.
“If you don’t get it, we can try again,” assured Llyr. He followed the tilt of his body, then rolled down the hill. It was simple enough, and he got to his knees once he landed. He looked to see Wren following, the boy spinning against the grass until he landed nearby. It was much improved, at a quicker pace, than before.
Wren scrambled to his feet, eyes round, and face slightly reddened. “I did it!”
Llyr chuckled, “Almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
“You should give it another try, yes? Practice some. Go on, back up the hill to try again,” suggested Llyr with a small smile.
“Yes,” agreed Wren enthusiastically. He ran up the slope, got back into proper stance, then rolled down the hill. This time, Llyr sat on the grass and watched.
“Hmm, try it again with your arms above your head,” he suggested to Wren.
A smile crossed the boy’s features and he didn’t even say anything as he sprinted to the hilltop so he could roll down again. This continued, in repeat, as Wren seemed to enjoy the practice - or truly, the carefree play.
Llyr looked in the direction of the rising breeze as pollen drifted through the air. It all seemed to be going some place, along with the insects and butterflies. He saw someone walking on a nearby hill. The biqaj stood, brushed the grass off his breeches and boots, then smoothed out his tunic. He didn’t know who it was, from what little he could see, but they appeared to be human and perhaps female. Llyr glanced at Wren, who hadn’t noticed yet. The boy had gotten distracted with his newly acquired skill of rolling down hills.
So, the young mage left him be for the moment. His wings outstretched, Llyr darted in quick dragonfly-like flight and landed in front of the woman's path with a short distance left between them. There seemed to be a good likelihood this was the woman Wren wanted to find. She resembled the man's portrait in the locket, perhaps a sister? The biqaj waved in acknowledgment of her presence. His gossamer wings folded neatly behind him, and his halo dimmed above his head, the irises of his eyes were vibrant ocean blue.
He smiled and greeted her, “Good trial, miss! Is that boy your’s?”
The door to the Veil vanished behind them. A gentle breeze drifted through what looked to be a never-ending landscape of green meadows. In every direction were rolling hills of lush grass and wildflowers. Trees dappled in spots on certain ridges, full of lively leaves and healthy branches. He caught the familiar rippling sounds of a nearby brook, likely just over the nearest hill.
Comfortable, in every way, the temperature wasn’t too hot or cold. Insects flitted about, but they didn’t land on them or aim to sting. They seemed accepting of the intrusion to what Llyr could only view as another world entirely. This wasn’t Idalos, it wasn’t the Veil, and it wasn’t anything like anywhere he’d ever been before. Still, he could draw comparisons to Idalos. The way the breeze felt comforting as it lifted his hair away from his scarred forehead. The hummed buzz of insects and demure wildlife going about the trial to come. The blue sky of fluffy white clouds and the fair warmth of sunrise.
The world appeared to be the perfect Ymiden trial, at the height of the vibrant season and without any harshness or imposing juxtaposed elements to dull the seasonal beauty.
“Is this where you wanted to go?” He looked down at the boy. Wren nodded.
They walked along a pebbled and dirt path that curved along the eased slope of a hill. When they reached the rounded ridge, Llyr felt his soul subsumed by a significant sense of awe. It truly was a land of summertime in its ultimate magnificence. The sun remained on the horizon, as if locked in perpetual dawn.
If he sat down on the grass, he could imagine staying here forever, eternally happy. His eyes welled with tears, but he managed to keep from letting any droplets fall. He composed himself for the sake of the child beside him. No matter how unusual Wren acted, how sober of thought the boy seemed, Llyr still noticed the need for help from someone older. Wren might have been the one waiting for him in the Veil, but Llyr felt the instinct to protect the wandering boy all the same.
“It’s beautiful here, yes?” he asked the child dreamwalker. Not much of an answer came from the quiet lad beyond a nod. Lly hesitated, then asked, “Is this your home?”
Wren’s nose scrunched and his brows raised. He shot a look of bafflement at the biqaj, then laughed, “No.”
“You act very calm for your age,” observed Llyr aloud. “As if you’ve visited here before… or a place like it? Wren, how is it that you were made a dreamwalker? You’re so young...”
No answer came. Instead, Wren let go of his hand. He walked along the hilltop, and Llyr followed. The boy wasn’t forthcoming. If it was a trick of hostility, lying in wait, Llyr wouldn’t concern himself with it until it made itself known.
The mage stretched out his gossamer wings. He lifted off the ground and followed a handful of butterflies in darted, erratic flight. Wren jumped slightly, startled by the sudden flight of the biqaj past him. Llyr spun himself around, then landed in a purposeful somersault. He rolled down the hill. As soon as he landed at the bottom of the slope, grass stuck in his white-blond hair, he called to Wren, “Roll down. It’s fun! There are no roots or anything to hurt you.”
Wren shuffled his feet. He looked side to side, then lowered to sit on the hilltop. Llyr waved in encouragement for him to roll. Finally, the boy decided to give it a try. He laid on his side, then weakly rolled aside. Gravity helped the motion along, the lush grass temporarily flattened under his path, and Wren very slowly rolled down. Limbs awkward, arms at his sides, and a few kicks to keep the slow momentum so he wouldn't stop midway on the hill, eventually Wren landed at the foot of the hill. He stared at the sky, eyes wide with what Llyr assumed had to be curiosity.
“That was so…” the mage considered, then said, “uh… safe of you. Come along, I’ll show you how to roll down a hill properly.”
Llyr took Wren’s hand, helped him to his feet, then hiked up the hill. He sat on the top of the slope, then patted for Wren to do so as well. The mage smiled then he wrapped an arm around Wren’s shoulders. He outstretched his other arm to gesture toward the hill before them. He said, “First, we look for any rocks or roots or things to avoid. Do you see any?”
Wren shook his head 'no'.
“If you did, then we’d choose to avoid them in our path down. And check that it is not too steep, otherwise we could go much too fast without control,” explained Llyr. He ruffled the blond hair of the boy, then he crossed his arms over his chest. “Put your arms like this, hands near your shoulders.”
Wren copied the crossed arms in front of his chest, hands on opposite shoulders. “Like this?”
“Yes, exactly!” Llyr’s smile brightened into a grin. “That’s it. You’re a quick learner, Wren. Now, we lay down…”
He shuffled away to get some room for his lanky body, then laid along the edge of the hilltop. He waited until the boy also laid in the grass. “Keep yourself together, as if you are a tree standing strong against a wind. If you want to go faster, you can lift your arms above your head like so,”-he demonstrated, then returned to the crossed arms-“otherwise keep them here, legs together, draw your body weight back… and then tilt yourself over the slope. Follow the downward pull of the soil. Ready?”
“I think so?” said Wren. The boy wiggled, testing the placement of his arms, but he looked uncertain.
“If you don’t get it, we can try again,” assured Llyr. He followed the tilt of his body, then rolled down the hill. It was simple enough, and he got to his knees once he landed. He looked to see Wren following, the boy spinning against the grass until he landed nearby. It was much improved, at a quicker pace, than before.
Wren scrambled to his feet, eyes round, and face slightly reddened. “I did it!”
Llyr chuckled, “Almost perfect.”
“Almost?”
“You should give it another try, yes? Practice some. Go on, back up the hill to try again,” suggested Llyr with a small smile.
“Yes,” agreed Wren enthusiastically. He ran up the slope, got back into proper stance, then rolled down the hill. This time, Llyr sat on the grass and watched.
“Hmm, try it again with your arms above your head,” he suggested to Wren.
A smile crossed the boy’s features and he didn’t even say anything as he sprinted to the hilltop so he could roll down again. This continued, in repeat, as Wren seemed to enjoy the practice - or truly, the carefree play.
Llyr looked in the direction of the rising breeze as pollen drifted through the air. It all seemed to be going some place, along with the insects and butterflies. He saw someone walking on a nearby hill. The biqaj stood, brushed the grass off his breeches and boots, then smoothed out his tunic. He didn’t know who it was, from what little he could see, but they appeared to be human and perhaps female. Llyr glanced at Wren, who hadn’t noticed yet. The boy had gotten distracted with his newly acquired skill of rolling down hills.
So, the young mage left him be for the moment. His wings outstretched, Llyr darted in quick dragonfly-like flight and landed in front of the woman's path with a short distance left between them. There seemed to be a good likelihood this was the woman Wren wanted to find. She resembled the man's portrait in the locket, perhaps a sister? The biqaj waved in acknowledgment of her presence. His gossamer wings folded neatly behind him, and his halo dimmed above his head, the irises of his eyes were vibrant ocean blue.
He smiled and greeted her, “Good trial, miss! Is that boy your’s?”