It was just past noon The two suns had completed their slow, celestial dance around one another. After two days in Eryndor, Zane had learned a great deal—mostly from Lady Sylvia, but also from the silent, observant study of this strange, static world.
He had registered with both the Merchant's and Hunter's Guilds. In exchange for information about Eryndor, he offered fragments of his own world to Lady Sylvia. Her stoic knightly demeanor dissolved in these conversations, replaced by the wide-eyed wonder of a scholar uncovering a lost library. Every so often, he caught himself simply staring at her animated face, fascinated. His solution was a poor one: don't look.
Then, without warning, a smooth, cerulean-blue head popped into his line of sight. Lady Sylvia? He tried to avert his gaze, but it was too late—he was charmed, his mind drifting into a haze of admiration.
In that haze, the world he had plummeted into presented him with a vision: a single, perfect plum, ripe and red. He was about to reach for it when his shoulder shook—a gauntleted hand returning him to reality. His gaze flitted desperately for an anchor, finally catching on the ornate fountain nearby.
"What are you thinking of, Mr. Ling?" Her hand left his shoulder. "Something interesting? A tale of your wondrous ancestor-world? A dream?"
She had been sitting beside him the entire time. Why choose now to lean in so suddenly? She could have just asked.
Now she was examining him closely, her face so near he could almost feel its cool surface. He could only imagine the keen, curious expression she wore—the same one that had dazzled him into silence several times before. It held the adorable intensity of a curious kitten, or perhaps a meticulous scientist contemplating the dissection of a rare specimen. But first, she always asked questions, needing to drain his well of knowledge before any hypothetical scalpel was lifted. What had she asked?
"Forgive my distraction, my inquisitive Lady Sylvia. My mind wandered its own paths. Is there something you wish to know? About my kingdom, my planet Earth, or the vast universe I hail from? Ask, and I will illuminate what I can. Or do you wish to show me more of lovely Eryndor?"
Lady Sylvia studied him a moment longer before settling back onto the bench. She folded her hands in her lap, leaning against the wooden back.
"I would gladly show you more of Eryndor. And as I guide you, we can exchange further… information."
She stood up, swift as a striking bird.
"We should go now. Tell me of your world. Does everyone journey into the world of dreams? How often do you visit?"
Zane heard the eager urgency in her voice. She was fixated on dreams. He rose quickly, equally keen to learn of the "dream bubbles" the Hunters mentioned. As a new guild member, he would need that knowledge soon.
His eyes drifted back to the fountain. He had seen it too many times these past days. A vague longing tugged at him—if only he could return there, to see her, to tell her… But they weren't his memories. Who was she?
Clink-clank. Clink-clung.
Lady Sylvia was moving. She circled the fountain and turned onto the northern street. In the previous day, they had moved south, and east in the day before that.
Zane followed, excited to see more of the city, hoping it would be as fascinating as the districts he'd already seen.
"Dreams, you ask," Zane began, falling into step beside her. "To answer, yes, nearly all in my world visit the fleeting realm of dreams. It is a second, secret life for humanity. We enter it randomly, shaped by our waking experiences, though a rare few can steer its course. Typically, we must first enter a state called sleep. Our bodies grow still, our minds quiet, and then… the theater of the mind begins, playing out scenes from our lives and fears. I cannot control my dreams, though some have learned."
His gaze rested on the immaculate green hedge lining the street. It looked mown to perfection, but he suspected it, like everything in Eryndor, simply was—unchanging, static, a frozen moment. He was beginning to suspect all of Eryndor might be a dream itself. But the gentlets were too tangible, too real. He needed to enter a dream bubble soon, to compare. If it felt the same…
"Can you teach me to sleep?"
Her voice was cheerful, bright with excitement.
"I wish to visit dreams without needing a bubble, just as humans do. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Well, Mr. Ling?"
Zane could vividly picture her expression—that sparkling, relentless curiosity. He suppressed the urge to look, focusing harder on the unchanging lawn. What had she asked? Oh.
She wanted him to teach her to sleep. The question would be absurd from a human, but from a gentlet who knew no such state, it was merely poignant.
Yet, he had no answer. How does one teach a fundamental state of being?
"Ah, my lady. I fear I cannot. Sleep isn't a skill to be taught, but a natural human condition. Of all the beings on my Earth, only humans and a few of our animal cousins are blessed—or cursed—with it."
He felt a pang of pity. If he could have granted her sleep, what a priceless trade it would have been.
"Is that so?" Her voice deflated, clear exasperation coloring the words. "I had hoped, like an ancestor, I could live a dream, not just observe one from within a bubble. I suppose the bubbles must suffice."
A brief pause hung between them, as fleeting as a dream itself. Then the excitement rushed back into her tone.
"Also, what is this 'planet Earth'? Is it another realm ancestors can access? Tell me now!"
Earth? Now she wanted to know about his planet. He had said too much. "Planet Earth" had slipped out—a term so fundamental to his reality, yet completely alien here.
"Ah… Planet Earth,"
He began, his mind racing to craft an explanation that would satisfy her boundless curiosity without revealing the impossible truth.
"It is not a separate world one can visit, my lady. It is… the world itself. The name of the realm from which my Kingdom of Ashburn rules."
He watched her closely, gauging her reaction. The concept of a single planet floating in a floating array of many seemed like it might shatter her understanding of existence, which appeared to be based on realms rather than celestial bodies and endless space.
"Think of it as the greatest of all domains,"
He continued, weaving the fiction.
"A vast, prime continent from which all human memories in dream bubbles ultimately spring. It is the source, the cradle." He gestured vaguely toward the sky at the dual suns. "Our sun is a solitary, golden mornach—not a paired dynasty like yours… It also has many cities of different kinds and also a wide variety of beautiful landscapes."
His eyes moved from the lawn to the now approaching edifices.
"Nevertheless my lady, none of the cities there can compare to your most beautiful and splendid Eryndor."
He really did not mind some flattering. Though in this aspect, it seemed more of an hideous reality. Truly, none of the cities back on earth could compare.
Fortunately, or unfortunately since he was stuck here, it was only in its radiant majesty and its neoclassical architecture that somehow made it more grander. In regalement criteria, it did not even come close to the best of Earth's city—Not that he had ever visited one, he had never left Ashburn all his life. It was actually very chill, suprisingly, more calm than even the rustic reaches of Ashburn…
"So,"
She said slowly, excitement in her awe augmented with awe.
"The dream bubbles… they are not just random, not even gifts from our ancestors as the Supreme conclave mention. They are echoes of this 'Earth'? Fragments of your prime world?"
"In a manner of speaking,"
Zane agreed, relieved that she was following the trail he had laid.
"When humans sleep and dream, our… awareness… touches other layers of reality. sometimes, it leaves an imprint. A memory that does not fade. What you call dream bubbles might be those captured imprints."
He was describing the astral theory he had barely begun to comprehend himself, but it fit the facts the gentlets had provided. From what Zane knew, his consciousness existed in another plane entirely only projected in his mind. Dreams might just be the same. Sometimes wandering and getting lost. Finding dream bubbles with humans like him was not just random coincidence. What if dreams existed in realms?…
"Then you are not just from a memory,"
She breathed, taking a step closer, her purple eyes presumably wide.
"You are from the source of the memory."
The implications was profound. To her, he was not just a rare specimen; he was a living piece of the archetype.
Not that he actually believed anything he had said, he was just pretending to know what dream bubbles were from information gained from a half-finished skill orb with no relation to dreams. Or was there?
Zane nodded, accepting the reverence with a grace he did not feel.
"It seems that way. And that is why I am here. Not only to trade goods with your city, but also to see where our echoes have settled. Guided by my dream compass, I land in Eryndor seeking to understand the worlds that catch our essense."
He skillfully steered the conversation back to safer ground.
"You mentioned visiting a dream bubble soon, now that I'm an hunter. When will that be? I confess, after our talk, my own curiosity is burning."
The question broke her reverie. The practical knight reasserted itself over the wondering scholar.
"The expedition is planned for after the next luminance cycle,"
She said, reffering to the rythmic brightening of the city's central crystal that served as their clock.
"Information is in that a bubble has stabilized near the eastern region. It is rated as benign— a common 'ancestor' memory of a… 'city street at night'."
She said the last phrase with careful precision, as if tasting the strange concept.
"It will be a good first immersion for a new hunter."
A memory of wet asphalt, neon signs, and the grumble of a car engine flickered in Zane's mind. His memory. Or at least, a memory of his kind. A sudden, visceral homesickness tightened his chest, sharp and unexpected. He felt the flicker of it cross his face.
Lady Sylvia saw it too. Her voice softened, the metallic echo leaving it.
"You want to go back. It must be hard always being far from home, always going on trading missions."
It was not a question.
Zane looked away, back to the ever-perfect, ever-still hedge.
"I miss the noise of it,"
He admitted quietly, surprising himself.
"The chaos. The unpredictability. Here, everything is… exquisite."
He waved his hand at the sublime architecture.
"But it feels finished. On Earth, things are always being built, broken, rebuilt. It is never quiet."
Her gaze landed on him, he could feel it stuck on him, not as a study, but as a recognition. For a moment, they stood in silence, separated by biology and reality, but bridged by a shared, deepening understanding.
"Come,"
She said finally, her tone resuming its usual brisk clip, though it held a new warmth.
"The Avenue of the Artificers is ahead. If you seek the unpredictable noise of creation, you will find it there. The master crafters are never quiet, and they would be most interested in the artifacts a merchant of Earth might conceiasm."
Clink-clank Clink-clung. The rythm began again as she moved, but this time, Zane followed with a lighter step. The path foward was becoming clearer. The dream bubble expedition was his key—not just to guild standing, but to understanding the true link between his world and this one. And with Lady Sylvia as his guide, he might just navigate it.