The night before - in the dormitories

  Caledon settled into bed after moving the rest of the remaining skeletons into an abandoned room.

  He remembered watching Pevir struggle with the body he was carrying and giving the man a hand. They had agreed to Shiver’s request to move them out of sight so they wouldn’t trouble Vale. He winced at the memory of the ivory on his bare hands, cold to the touch. He still felt it lingering on his fingertips.

  They agreed to the task after glimpsing how distraught Vale had been, encountering her hallucination in the academy's basement, crowded with dead students. Even if it had been a minor one from her description, none of them were any stranger to how their Fears twisted themselves in their minds to torment them.

  The previous room’s occupiers had left behind much of their belongings. Caledon had pawed through them curiously, stumbling across a diary. Its author was a Fearshaper of lightning, who spoke about her excitement to descend through Anhedonia to get to the “real” stages. She spoke derisively of the first realm of Fear, and her impatience was palpable in her words. Caledon could empathise her.

  Anhedonia seemed to be a reflective stage of Fear. One that required Fearshapers to explore the inception of their torment, and to bring themselves to terms with it. The other stages she alluded to seemed to be a significant departure from it.

  The author of the journal hailed from the Jade Isles, and Caledon had found a talisman in her diary. He admired the design that featured on its surface, the artist’s rendition bearing an inky style and seeming to depict something round in nature, with a sharp vertical and horizontal line originating from its centre.

  Apart from the diary, the remaining belongings were mundane and failed to catch his interest. Caledon let out a large yawn, and stretched. He gave Pevir an apologetic wave for disrupting his sleep, as the man settled into the bed next to his own.

  Strange, I feel like I’m just getting more tired each time I rest. Is this something Fearshapers face after awakening? Father never mentioned it.

  He closed his eyes and slipped effortlessly into the dream.

  This time, as Caledon opened his eyes, he found himself in front of the family’s greenhouse.

  Calling it a mere greenhouse was a bit of an understatement. His father had demolished the old fixture and was replacing it with an enormous structure of glass and metal. It stood newly completed, and was waiting to be filled with produce and all manner of plant life.

  Caledon glanced at his reflection in the glass and a boy of around twelve peered back at him. Then he felt the touch of cold metal in his hands. Glancing down, he noticed that he held a mechanism that he recognised, one that would allow gardeners to disperse water into a spray, to efficiently water produce.

  He turned to his father, who was standing on a table with a plan of a greenhouse draped over it. He vaguely remembered his father’s reason for its sudden construction, but he never missed the chance to annoy him.

  "Father, explain to me again why this was necessary?"

  Highlord Berevan guffawed loudly, startling the servants nearby.

  "You sound like your mother, Cal! Do you have an issue with my gardening hobby?"

  "Is it really that necessary? House Flora sends us all the produce we could ever hope to gather, and so cheaply too!"

  Berevan’s eyebrow twitched, and a shadow crossed his face.

  Looks like I’ve stepped on his toes, uh oh...

  His father broke out into a wide grin as he leaned against the table.

  "And you don’t believe I of all people could do better than the Highlady of the Dreadwood? You’ve barely seen what I can do!"

  Moving with speed uncharacteristic of an elf his size, he scooped up Caledon easily and ruffled his hair. Caledon, who had undergone the familiar treatment too many times than he wished to admit, just stared flatly ahead.

  Aren’t I a little too old for this now?

  "And what’s this, I see you have a sprinkler in hand?"

  His father gently pried the sprinkler he just only realised that he held within his grip. He raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile.

  "You would dare innovate to surpass House Flora? What arrogance!"

  "That is the Brimstone way, is it not? Just look at you trying to surpass Highlady Solastra!"

  His father let out another hearty bellow of a laugh.

  Recently, he had noticed Viveria mimicking his father’s laughter, if she kept it up, she would hardly attract a suitor when she was older, as mother warned. That only made her redouble her efforts in pinning it down.

  Hmm strange, where had that thought come from?

  "Indeed it is Cal."

  He tossed it back at him.

  "I’m eager to see what you come up with."

  Despite his best efforts, he had not been able to innovate on the sprinkler system his father had arranged to install. With the power of hindsight, and his knowledge training under Sakar however, he was confident the answer would be different, where he stood today.

  Interrupting his thoughts, a lanky boy in his late teens strode up to them. He wore formal attire, that stood out starkly in contrast with his youthful hesitance.

  Silas, his father’s newest recruit, who was to become House Brimstone’s newest butler. Caledon recalled his jealousy of the boy, especially as his father invested significant amounts of time into the young butler’s development – no doubt instructing him in the ways of organisation... And craftsmanship.

  Oh… I remember what day this was.

  It had been the day he had discovered Silas’ secret. Silas and Berevan exchanged a few words, his uncertain face breaking out into a shy smile as his father cracked yet another joke.

  I already know what happens if I follow him. Perhaps, I could attempt to do something different.

  But as Caledon attempted to walk towards his house, his head began to swim.

  Ok… that’s weird.

  He frowned, as he puzzled over the nature of the dream he was experiencing. He had overheard Shiver speaking about her nightmares, and it was nothing like what he was experiencing.

  I wonder what the limits of this dream are. If I push hard, can I deviate from my memory, perhaps, to discover other secrets?

  Silas, who had finished his exchange with his father, inclined his head to Cal, and rushed off in a hurry. He remembered on the day, that Caledon had detected something in his body language that implied that he had something to hide.

  If there was anything that set off Caledon’s curiosity, it was a good mystery.

  He followed Silas, as he had, all those days ago. He artfully avoided the butler’s cursory glances over his shoulder. After all, it taken time for him to develop his perceptiveness and competence as Brimstone’s foremost butler and confidant.

  By comparison, the Caledon that he faced had the benefit of years of well-worked curiosity.

  In other words, he had gotten much better at stalking.

  Silas opened a door into the manor’s basement, which was forbidden to the children. As you might imagine, he had been caught and punished multiple times for attempting entry.

  Come now father, a forbidden door? You really should have known better.

  Even as an adult, his attempts to enter had been rebuffed swiftly by Silas himself. This time however, was an exception. He followed Silas down winding passageways to a room in the depths of the manor. Before the door could shut completely, Caledon deftly intercepted it with a practiced hand, and slipped inside.

  Silas’ workshop was just as he remembered. It was filled with wooden puppets, many of them primitive in nature. They hung by silver strings, and to his trained eye, he could recognise errors in Silas’ craftsmanship. Clumsy carving, hinges improperly installed, there were mistakes abound.

  Silas gasped as he noticed Caledon standing behind him.

  "My lord, you aren’t supposed to be down here! Didn’t your father forbid you from entry?"

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  Caledon shot him a confident smile, without a trace of guilt.

  "It’s fair game if you didn’t catch me, Silas! Hasn’t father told you that a good butler should be perceptive? Alert at all times?"

  He had been a bit of brat when he was younger. Unfortunately for Silas, he still channeled his younger self effortlessly.

  Silas let out a long sigh.

  "Alright, alright. The jig is up, your father will be here any moment now."

  "Your puppets are beautiful."

  "W-what?"

  Silas looked at him in shock, as Caledon examined them with an academic rigour.

  "You have a real talent, I’m jealous really."

  The words flowed naturally from his mouth. He had been jealous when he had first stumbled onto Silas’ workshop – though he hadn’t admitted it back then. So, he said the words he wished he had back when he had first found his workshop. Back then, his youthful pride didn't allow it. But his admiration had been as clear back then as it was now, as he saw Silas’ puppets anew.

  Silas, whose shoulders had been taught with fear, relaxed at Caledon’s words.

  He must have been worried about being judged.

  "T-thank you, my lord, you are too kind."

  Caledon gave his old friend, a warm smile. This had marked the beginning of their long friendship. It had been a little rockier in reality, due to his jealousy, but thankfully that hadn’t lasted for long.

  The butler had given him countless tips, and had only enflamed his passion for craftsmanship.

  Which was right when Caledon noticed something, that perhaps he hadn’t in the past.

  Unfamiliar puppets, which he hadn’t noticed on his initial visit all those years ago, laid on the workbench. Perhaps he had noticed them, but had just chalked their nature up to Silas’ skill. Or perhaps, the scolding his father had given him – after he had received praise for his curiosity – had caused the image to slip from his mind.

  Silas’ pure mastery was on display as the puppets faces bore a stark remblance to living elves, displaying only the slightest deviations from the living. Caledon shook his head at the sight of it, his Fear revealing the older boy’s talent which he had overlooked in his jealous haze when he had been younger.

  Even as young as he was, he was already a master? You’re too humble, my friend.

  "You see, lord Caledon, I have a Fear of puppets. It is embarrassing to admit. Your father has been helping me... confront it."

  Caledon was snapped out of his reverie. Yes, this had been the moment he had discovered the young butler’s Fear. As his father had told him and Viveria countless of times – an elf should never be controlled by the object of their Fear – for it had the potential to dictate their lives. Or judged for it.

  Right on cue, said Highlord Berevan strolled through the door to the workshop, a mixture of pride and reproach on his face. Caledon continued to utter the words he had, all those years ago. Even as envious as he had been of the fellow craftsman, younger Caledon at least had the humility to request it. Laying the foundations for their friendship.

  "Father, can Silas teach me?"

  His father froze, his intended admonishment interrupted. Slowly, his conflicted expression turned into one of unequivocal pride.

  "Of course, Cal. I am impressed, you are no doubt envious of Silas’ skill, only an idiot would not be. But your humility impresses me, well done son!"

  He was once again picked up by his father, who beamed with pride. Silas, who had looked nervous and on edge, seemed to relax at the sight of the Highlord, and with Caledon’s newfound acceptance. In hindsight, it was perhaps this discovery alone that had been the catalyst for their relationship, feelings of envy and jealousy cast aside in the interest of mastery.

  What a pleasant dream. I miss them

  ---

  Caledon rose with a groan, with the arrival of the morning. Not that there was anything but the conclusion of his dream to herald its arrival. He sat up to see Pevir, who was snacking on the food they had located in the preservation containers.

  "Lord Caledon, good morning!"

  "Please Archaeologist, do call me Caledon."

  "Only if you make sure not to drop the “archaeologist”, makes me feel sophisticated."

  Pevir chuckled as he winked at him, his handsome moustache twitching as he bit into a sandwich.

  "It’s miraculous that the food has lasted this long, it’s certainly curious isn’t it? One would have expected it to have faded away with time by now. It is yet another small mystery left to untangle."

  Pevir stuck his head into the inside of the pantry of minuscule construction, he eyed glowing script written on the inside, before finally tearing himself away from it.

  "When I have a moment, I must study them further."

  Caledon smiled. He admired the man’s passion and curiosity.

  "By the way, Caledon, did you sleep well? You look a little-"

  Pevir’s question was interrupted by Vale’s screams. Caledon rushed for the door, throwing it open.

  Then he relaxed.

  "Shiver! Let me down this instant! What do you think you’re doing!"

  Caledon and Pevir watched in a daze, as Shiver walked down the corridor with Vale in hand, or rather, hefted over her shoulder like one might carry a bag of sand.

  "Let go of me!"

  Caledon gaped as he watched the girl stride towards the common room, even managing a shift in her step. She briefly halted and met Caledon’s eyes and motioned with her head.

  Ah, she wants to go to the pods. Figures she couldn’t wait that long. No point beating around the bush any further.

  Letting out another long yawn and a stretch, Caledon followed suit.

  ---

  It wasn’t long before Vale had been encased in her pod, after much protest. Caledon felt a pang of pity for her. Shiver had thrown her in like a glorified sack of fish, demonstrating excellent technique. Pevir chuckled at the sight, and motioned to Caledon.

  "Caledon, I’ll continue my investigations of the academy down in the basement."

  With some concern, Caledon called out, as the lattice of black liquid started to form above his pod.

  "Are you sure? We still don’t know what’s down there… Whatever killed those elves could still be roaming around."

  Pevir pushed his circular copper glasses, sending a flash of light into his eyes. Caledon recoiled. The man had really perfected the art of it.

  "Oh my boy, if danger does come my way, then I would have died doing what I loved the most. Besides, if there is anything lurking in this academy, we would all equally be in danger, no?"

  So much for sticking together to make sure he was safe.

  There was no stopping the man, and with a quick wave, Pevir departed from the group.

  Shortly afterwards, Shiver followed, leaving the room once Vale’s pod had been sealed. Whistling and without any further explanation but a wink, she left them behind.

  Caledon just shook his head with a chuckle and regarded the sleek pod before him. As he settled into the pod, the familiar feminine voice rose to greet him.

  Fearshaper detected. Reserves at maximum capacity. Initiate nightmare induction?

  "Yes."

  Acknowledged. Prepare for nightmare induction.

  The instant Caledon uttered the words, he slipped back into his dream.

  So… these pods allow us to revisit the nightmare with greater frequency. They also appear to… seal us in to ensure there’s no escape from the nightmare. I wonder… what would happen if I don’t find the answer in my dreams?

  The thought would have sent a chill down his spine, at a single, troubled thought.

  I wonder if there have been Fearshapers in Anhedonia that dreamed, never to wake again.

  ---

  Caledon smiled, as he watched a familiar scene in his dreams.

  He was seated in his father’s study. The conjured image of their mother’s old home, before she had married his father, glowed serenely on the wall.

  The warmth of the hearth relaxed him and set him at ease. He liked staring at the illusion, losing himself in its details. So had Viveria, when she had been younger. His father had shared stories of his sister attempting to lick it - no doubt in an attempt to uncover the secrets it held. Never let it be said that his sister wasn’t enterprising.

  His father was at his desk, trying to conceal his sighs unsuccessfully as he parsed through a pile of paperwork. Caledon held a puppet that Silas had gifted him. It seemed like it hadn’t occurred to either his father or Silas himself that rewarding his unrestrained curiosity may not have been the best idea.

  Caledon snapped out of his reverie, as he noticed his mother walk in.

  Appella Brimstone had a head of fiery red hair, a stark contrast to his father’s dark brown. It matched the plumage of his father's guide - Sale, the eternal phoenix. Caledon felt a pang of regret at the thought of her.

  While Viveria had inherited her mother's shade of hair, he had taken after his father. She smiled at him warmly, walking up to him and ruffling his hair. The sparse lines and wrinkles that had come with age left his mother’s youthful face unmarred. Caledon felt a chill, as a formless emotion welled in his gut. Then, he struggled to fight back tears that threatened to well in his eyes.

  Oh stop it, you just saw her a few days ago. Snap out of it Caledon.

  "What have you got there, Cal?"

  "Oh, Silas-"

  "Appella."

  His mother turned to Berevan, who had called out to her, interrupting him.

  "How was your trip?"

  Her mild curiosity at the puppet in Caledon’s hands evaporated, as she recalled her journey to the Archcity of Dreams.

  "It was amazing Bevy, the sights, the food, the warmth. Getting out of this Feardamned cold was exactly what I needed. Not to mention, the Highlord of Dreams was very accommodating. It pays to have friends in high places hmm?"

  Caledon frowned. He noticed his father stiffen at his mother’s entrance. His back abnormally straight, and his grip on his pen too tight, he heard the slightest of cracks as its structure bowed under his grip.

  What was that?

  As quick as the tension appeared, it was gone.

  "The Highlord you say? He saw to you personally?"

  "He did. As you can imagine, awakening as a Fearshaper was quite stressful, but Highlord Saravagan ensured that I was very well taken care of. Oh my, and the food Berevan it was delicious. We must travel there together."

  His father had told him mother journeyed to the Archcity of Dreams to awaken as a Fearshaper. Why was father so tense?

  His mother laughed and wrapped her arm around his father’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek. Caledon’s worries melted away after a moment.

  I must be imagining things. Perhaps it's unsurprising, I’m dreaming after all.

  He thought back to his memory of the day, it had been entirely ordinary, nothing out of place.

  "Of course, dear, I would be delighted to go there with you."

  His mother turned back to smile at Caledon, her eyes found the puppet in his arms.

  "Cal, let me catch up with your mother. Go run along and check on Vivy, if someone doesn’t keep an eye on her, we may not have a city left to manage."

  Caledon chuckled internally as he headed to the door, exiting his father’s study.

  It was so nice to see them. I miss them. I don’t think going out on missions to secret Archcities is my cup of tea. I’ll be happy to be home soon.

  He smiled, as another pleasant dream came to an-

  PATREON!