Frightening dissimilarity. It was a hall, stretching far and wide. Like a city. Walls painted black with lines of inlaid gold. A few orbs floated through the space, light bringers. Their shine casting a bare illumination into the rather darkly dense space. His eyes adjusted accordingly.
Question: Were his ocular gifts as a Veil Counsel reflected in this world? By this, he meant the eyes that saw in the dark. Catelyn, was it? had mentioned some relation between one's order and the effect the symbols had on the body. Did that outcome mirror, too, in the dream world?
He wondered, then sensed the distractive trait his mind was adopting.
Bad things.
So he heaved a breath and trudged into the hall-like space, with plenty of doors lined on both sides, into other chambers, no doubt. He absorbed the sight and attempted imposing the current view on the one most familiar with him.
This was Este's castle…Someday it would sink, and above it, inevitably, The House of Noctis would stand. How long would that take? What time had elapsed that faded such people into the stock of history?
It seemed a sin that this was little more than a relic of the past. Worse. A past unknown to any.
He contemplated then whether some El'shadie existed during this time. What were they? Who were they? What thoughts did they share? So many questions that could be readily answered. If only he knew…But alas, Este's dream had its limits. Despite the illusions of realism, it was a secluded bubble of events.
Outside these walls, this world, beyond the point of observation, was nothing. He sensed it more now…Now that he held the totality of the dream in concord, there was a sense of wholeness. He took a turn—no specific reason was admitted in that action, simply the following of innate instincts.
He had come to trust those.
And as expected.
The round door, more of a boulder rolled to the side, receiving his presence into the starkly dark room. A moment, and light flickers from distant orbs, lamps embedded on the wall base, raying out with dull radiance. Dim, but just enough for his perception.
He observed.
The room was round, clean—the floor granular, black, and streaked with silvery lines. They gleamed. And pillaring the ceiling were large columns—poles that stretched high into the sky, vanishing into the blackness above. An inkling of mist clouded above—dripping moisture across the chamber. Although subtle, it reminded him of the misty airs of Eastos.
His Eastos.
He drowned the bubbling emotion and noted intently the rather strange additions. Scattered through the chamber were square pods, sleek with dew screened across their surfaces. They were countless—some bigger than the rest.
Caster mentation provided a guess of the contents within.
He knew, yet could quell little of the growing awe and fear.
This was a species…Perhaps not as powerful or sentient as humans. But a race nonetheless. And here they were, locked in metal cases…Growing.
He swallowed down, touched the pods, and felt the faired state and faint surge of current and hum. Something unimaginable occurred within these things. That, undoubtedly, filled him with wonder.
It beckoned a question: If an El'shadie was meant to be the most exceptional of all…What kind of creature was the El'shadie of this Era?
Somehow, this evoked the memories of the Bird's words.
Likely, he was the worst and mundane of the El'shadies.
I wonder how long that would stay the same?
His steps drifted deeper into the chamber, and ahead he found yet another door. A metal circle, requiring but his proximity to open. Genius. Although Merrin now adopted the belief that the function of these doors had little to do with closeness, but with authentication.
Somehow, they knew the comer and guessed whether they were indeed worthy of entrance.
It was an intriguing concept to say the least. Nothing with these Orvalen was as it seemed.
He enjoyed that.
Presently, entering the second chamber, the light flickered on as it usually did. A thing to conserve energy. That provided him with information on the states of these people. They did not hold an infinite source of force.
That was better…It revealed these creatures were not omnipotent. Merciful lord above, knew the terror in that potentiality.
And ah…as soon as those thoughts were bereft from his mind, he peered up…and was stunned silent. Eyes wide, breath locked within his throat. Something was there...Something big.
A giant!
Merrin gasped. It was a thing of countless meters in height. Three-eyed, grey-skinned skinned with fissured lines running across its form. Humanoid, both arms reared with metal poles spiking out from within them. Into the wall, those rods went, and figures, he noted, could be seen wandering on the rods--like workers.
What?
A voice struck into his awareness…It came from within.
"You dare come here?"
Merrin turned, far ahead, he saw Este. Standing between two metal pods, sleek. She conversed with another…A man. Who?
He froze.
The figure there was a protean mass of darkness. Shapeless, rooted next to a metal case for the Stone species.
Favnir!
What is he doing here?
"What are you doing here?" Este spoke within.
She's talking to me while talking to him?
"Answer me!" She snapped.
"To see!" Merrin said, "I came to see ."
"Ah, I see." Este seemed to snicker. "You came to see your handiwork?"
"Hardly." Merrin said, "They are your children, are they not?"
She paused and went silent. Observably, Favnir had taken priority. That was better. What they 'did' discuss, however...He wondered and felt the growing desire to prob information from the conversation. And thus he listened. As many things possible within this dream scape, his ears endured the conditioned traits of the ashman.
In just an instant of deep concentration, the surrounding sounds of metal pounding, humming, and screeching faded into the background…Then…he heard.
"They have done enough!" Este said.
"Not nearly," Favnir replied with that cold detachment. "No one could have predicted the excellence of these things."
"Damn it." Este cursed. "They have fought your wars. Mordrask is dead."
"That was not the doing of your creatures." He said, "The Crimson rot was the end of him…Although we remain unsure of that."
"Then what about Nectar?"
"Your Creatures failed in that, too," Favnir replied. "They had vanished in that strange city of his. In fact, the only success owned by this…Aelmiren is the rebellion they suppress. And for that, we need more. After all, they do not have the energy source to replenish their damages."
"That is because you forbade it," Este said curtly. "My children have died because of that."
Favnir lingered. "Your children?" He sighed. "Such nonsense is reserved for the human mind..Bootless. Continue making more, and yes, about the Titan Class ones…You only have two. We need more."
"More weapons!"
"Please." Favnir dragged the word. "The creations are effective only by the usage of the swarm method. By applying countless numbers of them, they achieve some measure of success. Without that, they are useless. So I would refrain from calling them weapons. Tools would be the accurate term."
Este gritted, rage hidden within that action. Would she attack? Favnir cared little for the outcome, and with no word shared more he left from her view. Wandering deeper into the spans of the chamber. Odd. Yet the conversation, as Merrin had heard, provided a wealth of information. One: time within the dream had lept up. He suspected this was a consequence of the weakening strength of the Caster: Himself. That or the occurrence was but another volatile nature of the dreaming.
Dreams, in essence, were chaotic—disjointed. Time, among others, functioned in capricious natures—a rather risky factor.
He paused.
There was an epiphany there…
He gasped.
That means the chance of time being faster in the dream or slower is based on fickle factors!
Mist it!
A surge of frantic motions charged through him…The dream needs to be accelerated. I need to find the seal!
A voice pierced into him. "To your room!" Este.
Ah…Yes. He smiled. Just what I need.
Eidan was slain, head tossed into the river. Oh, how blue it became—Poems of the Mad
Merrin observed the chamber—his room. A round space with a wooden bed to the side. There was familiarity in the arrangement. From the sleek skin of the walls, the pale light from distant lamps, and the rather intimate vastness they enjoyed…He knew this place.
From where?
He searched out within Caster cognition, lingered in the moment as his thoughts churned out the link towards the intimation. What was it? The question intoned. Memories flashing across awareness like bolts in the darkened sky. He sought. He paused, and he found.
Ah…
This…This is the chamber I fell in during the explosion of the pits!
What a full circle of events.
A sense of inevitability came over him.
Ahead, the expected thing stood. A two-meter-long structure. A slab of square stone rooted in the room's center. Black with words inscribed in its simple surface. Newer—little to no inklings of the rust that ruled its future states.
A stele!