1 Chapter 1: They Who Dreamt and Walked
Chapter 1: They Who Dreamt and Walked
Leila and Caden thought this was just another dream they had to work through tonight. Caden couldn’t figure what was going on inside Leila’s head or why she dreamt this way. She was something else, and even if he questioned Leila about her day and what was going through her head, how would he explain what the mirror in front of them showed?
He was sure Leila Bridge wouldn’t have an answer for him.
They stood in front of a mirror gazing at their reflections. Reflection--an ill-fitting word in this case for they couldn't recognize what they saw.
“Who is that?” Leila Bridge said as her eyes darted between her companion, Caden Mistral, and the mirror. Caden shook his head and studied his reflection. As he reached toward the mirror, his reflection mimicked him. He was a logical man--if he moved, then his reflection should follow.
It was only natural.
Yet just as naturally as it mirrored him, his reflection unnaturally showed him a man that didn’t look anything like him.
No.
This man had pointed ears like an elf, glowing green eyes, and long brown hair that was tied back into a ponytail. He didn’t look anything like him. Caden was sure he didn’t have a bow and arrow with him, nor did he don leather armor. He was also very sure he was human.
Yet it was his reflection!
Caden looked at Leila who also waved her hand at her reflection. Her reflection waved back. As it should.
Yet her reflection didn’t show her long luscious chocolate locks, cascading over her shoulders.
No.
The mirror showed a woman whose hair was braided to keep it out of her weapon's way. The woman had a bow and arrow as well. She had leather armor and pointed ears. The only thing the two of them shared was the ephemeral gleam of their green eyes. They were two women, separated only by a mirror forcibly telling them they were the same.
She didn’t look like Leila at all. She looked like she was about to go to war.
As many would expect, confusion struck the pairs. Whether or not that statement included the reflections, they would soon find out. With bated breath, they looked at each other and back at the mirror. They nod and reach out.
They could feel the warmth of their reflection’s skin...
Friends become days
And days become grains
Lost in the sands
Of a singular glass
A drop in the ocean
Lost in the waters
With only the memory
Of the permanence of rain
Mementos are little treasures from a past that could never exist again. A group of people would wrap these in red cloth. No matter their value, they are proof of a life once lived.
Legends abound of a band of adventurers that fought a cruel organization that sought these very items. Connected by the strings of fate, the group inevitably crossed paths with each other in the most unlikely circumstances. This band comprised hardy individuals, from aristocrats of ancient kingdoms to magi--valiant and fearless in their quest to defeat those who held the mementos.
When their adventure had ended, they settled down. They lived with what remaining life they had left.
One such adventurer returned home with the promise of tea and a humble house by the bay. Never did he expect that the daughter he would raise would have ballads sung of her.
Beware of the forest by the bay
Do not make the mistake
Of shedding blood on its grass
The trees house an arrow
That never misses
Escape is not in the mountains
The arrow can climb
Escape is not in the depths
Of the hydra’s oceans
The arrow can swim
None can escape
The eyes of the trees
It would seem that legends raise legends, and their stories would be sung again in the dingy halls of taverns. The daughter’s portrait would hang beside her father’s. But legendary as they were, they are still a family like many others.
Such tales of a daughter lying on her father’s chest would often go unnoticed. Her father would hum to her the tale of the dream walkers.
Then they’d enter a void filled with the gates to people’s homes. They often wander to the gates of different people. Strangely, they could not dream on their own but often trespass unnoticed into the dreams of others.
A kind-hearted dream walker seeing dreamers toss and turn, would come to their aid and hold their hand, praying to ease the nightmares. And when the dream walker was gone the next morning, the dreamer would awake to the sweetest of dreams.
“Daddy, what do dream walkers do when they need help?” The daughter had asked.
“Perhaps if you met someone in your dream and they said hello, why don’t you hold their hand?” The adventurer replied.
“I will!” Said the daughter. “And maybe they’ll be happy too!”
“Wouldn't you be sad if they were gone tomorrow?” he asked.
His daughter shook her head. “I’ll just make sure they come back!”
If you met a dream walker, would you hold their hand?
There was once a tale of a maiden who met a dream walker and held his hand. They journeyed through dreams. These were adventures only the two shared with each other, and stories not sung in taverns. Their story began with a meeting on top of a mountain.
The dream walker and the dreamer met each other on a mountaintop with the sea of clouds beneath them. That was when Caden and Leila first exchanged glances. The clouds had the warmth of orange and pink interlaced with each other. The colors mixed and danced with each other seemingly like one. But their individuality was still very much present. Wine in hand, they watched the beautiful view, tranquil and content.
As time went on, they learned to enjoy each other’s company.
This is the story of a dreamer who held a walker’s hand.
