'Second floor, display your work, engrave the moonstone, next!'
The second floor was much quieter than the first.
Colored light filtered through the panes of stained-glass windows, dappling the floor in shifting motes of color.
He stepped into a room.
Along the wall stood several display racks, each one neatly stacked with softly glowing oval stones.
These were the moonstones used to carry dreams.
An Elder Elf sat behind an old wooden table.
Fine wrinkles mapped his face, but his amber eyes held the calm of a hundred voyages.
On the table rested a crystal sphere the size of a basketball, perfectly clear and shimmering with a faint halo.
'Place your hand on the crystal.'
His voice sounded dry, like weathered bark.
Li Mo obeyed without delay.
The instant his palm touched the sphere, a cool sensation spread up his fingertips.
This was the core medium for engraving moonstones.
To pass the Dream World he had built to another person, he needed a vessel like this.
In truth, moonstones served much the same purpose as game discs or cartridges had in the world he left behind.
Both were storage and delivery media.
Games carried code-built virtual worlds; moonstones carried real dreams forged with Mental Energy.
Such stones were mass-produced by the Moonstone Workshop.
Artisans there performed special rituals to let the stones hold the rules of dreams.
After that, designers like himself could imprint—or photocopy—their Dream World inside.
Of course, moonstones weren't the only way to share dreams.
Li Mo had learned as much from his inherited memories.
The Dream Corridor offered temporary experiences; visitors could briefly sink into a preset dream.
And certain titans whose Mental Energy far exceeded the norm could transmit dreams directly, like pairing two devices over Bluetooth.
Yet whether it was the corridor or a Great Master's direct link, one was limited by time and place, the other by impossible thresholds.
Neither matched the simple convenience of a moonstone.
Own a moonstone and you could enter its dream anywhere, anytime—the best method for mass distribution.
For Moon City's upcoming Dream-Creation Contest every entrant had to submit a finished moonstone.
Judges would experience the dream through the stone and assign scores.
This was his best chance to gain a foothold in this alien world; no mistakes were allowed.
Li Mo calmed himself, focused, and began to commune with his Dream World.
As Mental Energy poured in, the crystal beneath his palm brightened.
Threads of silvery dream-magic rose from the sphere.
They wove together, and a miniature world slowly appeared: a stretch of jade-green lawn, several peashooters standing proud, and in the distance zombies shuffling closer with stiff steps.
sunflowers swayed gently in the sunlight, as if gathering energy.
The Elder Elf's half-lidded eyes opened a fraction, amber gaze settling on the unfolding dream.
He recognized the plants—varieties dotted the outskirts of Moon City, some carrying faint magic.
Zombies, too, reminded him of necromantic walking corpses, common fantasy fare.
But seeing the two elements combined into plants defending against zombies made his brow knit in puzzlement.
Together they made no sense to him; what bizarre theme was this?
He had assisted with moonstone engraving for nearly a century and seen countless dreams: sweeping epic battlefields, serene pastoral idylls, thrilling adventures, even surreal absurdities.
Yet a setting where plants fought zombies was entirely new.
'Could this be some fresh trend among youngsters?' he wondered.
Styles had grown ever more varied, and novel themes popped up every so often.
Age crept up; sometimes he couldn't keep pace.
Still, he believed that if it existed, it had its reason.
The scene looked odd, but without experiencing the dream he couldn't judge its quality, so he simply watched.
He kept his eyes on the sphere's glow, ensuring the engraving proceeded smoothly.
About the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, the light slowly dimmed.
The magic threads dissolved, and the blank moonstone on the table now shimmered with a soft green hue.
Done!
'Finished. Tomorrow's contest is at the plaza; arrive half an hour early,' the Elder Elf said, voice as level as ever.
'Thank you, Senior,' Li Mo replied.
Outside the plaza, with crowds streaming past, he felt a weight lift.
Now he could finally sample the local color of this otherworldly city.
Daylight still bathed the streets.
The central square bustled: nobles in silks, adventurers with packs, vendors pushing carts.
The air carried the scent of food and a faint trace of flower pollen. Li Mo stretched, relaxing.
He strolled idly.
Graceful architecture soared around him; statues and carved stone houses lined streets where magical carriages clattered by, leaving him wide-eyed.
This was the upper district, far livelier than the lower wards.
Shops of every sort dazzled the eye.
He spotted one called Moon Cabin and stepped inside.
Moon Cabin sold moonstones; its shelves held the season's hottest titles.
He glanced at the price tags: stones glowing richly and larger in size were Great Master works, exorbitant—288 or 368 baylies apiece.
Smaller ones cost far less, from a dozen to a few tens.
After a quick look to gauge pricing he left.
Back home, dusk had fallen.
Aisha wasn't back.
Li Mo lit the oil lamp; yellow light filled the small room.
He recalled the colored ribbons he'd seen draped on lamp-posts and the flowers set before shops—decorations for the coming Flower Dance Festival.
Each year the festival ranked among Moon City's liveliest; even the busiest laborers took holiday to dance and admire blossoms with family.
But Aisha was different.
A ranger of the city's armed forces, she grew busier the closer the festivities loomed.
She lived in the barracks, returning only on her rotation days.