With everyone's dream-selves collected together, all that remained was for Cyrus to lead them to the location of whatever spirit it was that he'd found for the purpose. Leon found the experience of walking through the Fade with full awareness that it was the Fade to be some strange mix of disorienting and disappointing. It... wasn't a pleasant place, aesthetically. It looked ill to him, somehow: better than some of his dreams, but certainly worse than others. They passed odd relics of other dreams on the way, though space felt different here than in the waking world. He knew they walked, but found he simply lacked any way to perceive distance. Nothing was fixed, and he didn't seem to tire even slightly, and time didn't feel like it was moving, either.
He supposed that made some sense, for a dream.
He wasn't sure when it appeared, but a fixed point did show up on the horizon eventually, and grew closer as they continued to walk. He'd read that only spirits of considerable power and age could create their own static locations. Well, they and somniari like the one who led them.
āIs that what we're looking for?" He put the question to Cyrus, gesturing to the spot. He couldn't tell quite what it was from here, only that the green seemed to be... less sick-looking than the one around their feet and over their heads.
āThis is where she dwells." Cyrus said it with a tone of confirmation, so the 'she' must refer to the spirit in question.
Some span of time later, they at last reached the boundary into the realm. It seemed to waver, reaching outwards as though to enclose them, but from the lack of surprise in Cyrus's reaction, Leon could only assume that this was normal, so he stepped forward to meet it. Light shimmered over his vision for a moment; when he blinked, he opened his eyes to a very different landscape.
Green was everywhere. It reminded him of his first journey south, beyond the decayed steppes of his harsh motherland and into the softer world of those who could grow enough to sustain nations. The colors were gentle on his eyes to a one, but it wasn't only green. Flowers bloomed, riotously in sprays, on bushes, and from climbing vines carefully coached onto trellises. It was a kept garden, but there was a sense about it of the wild as well, the organic rather than the manicured. The scent on the air was a light perfume that changed slightly when they moved, as the flower species changed, but clearly it was organized so that none of the notes ever clashed, as though its architect had engineered it for bouquet as well as visual appeal.
Cyrus led them down a small, winding cobblestone path. Evidence of some kind of presence was everywhere, though what kind of presence it was, Leon found difficult to tell. In one place, a pair of curved swords lay sheathed in the grass, casually discarded next to a pack, a thick wool blanket half-spread over the ground, as though someone had been preparing for a picnic or nap in the warm sunlight overhead and abandoned the effort partway through for some reason. A low retaining wall hosted a couple of dinged tin tankards, a bottle of something standing half-full between them.
As they approached the center of the garden, they passed by several more elaborate architectural features as well; birdbaths, tiered flowerboxes, and even a granite fountain, water burbling pleasantly from the mouth of the drake carved into the top of it, and from the down-pointed spear-tip of the armored woman also depicted, one hand resting at the base of the creature's neck. The entire place seemed frozen in this single moment, some midsummer afternoon with balmy weather and afternoon sunlight and a mild breeze.
But he couldn't see any spirits.
Asala took a few tentative steps toward the fountain, her hand clutching the collar of her cloak. She had managed to return to her ordinary self during the transition, growing the extra couple of feet to stand back over everyone but Leon himself. She leaned her hands hovering near the fountain, appearing unsure she should even touch it. "Where... are we?" Asala asked. She was nervous, but under the circumstances that was to be expected from her.
"I don't recognize it." Romulus glanced around him, taking in the still scenery. "Maybe... no."
"You're in my garden, of course." The voice came from behind them, and... above? Leon turned, immediately wary, following the trunk of a tree up to its branches.
Sure enough, sitting in one of the lower ones was... a spirit. Itāshe, he supposedāhad a more distinct form than most he'd seen. She was pinkish in color, closer to magenta or violet than red, but the lines of her were fairly sharp. Even from this distance, he could tell that she was an elf, from the pointed ears, and quite slight, probably no taller than five-and-three and thin. Her hair, or the wisps of spirit-stuff that served, was long, held in place only by a thin chain circlet around her brow. She smiled at them and pushed herself off the branch, drifting to alight on the ground below.
She gave a little curtsy of sorts, then turned her attention to Cyrus. "You're back, dreamer. And you brought me your friends. Which one seeks my aid?"
Asala glanced between the spirit and Cyrus a couple of times before she finally got around to timidly raising her hand. "Um, I... I suppose--" she stopped herself and closed her eyes, and from the rigidity forming in her shoulders apparently steeled herself. "I am," she said, attempting to sound more confident by omitting the 'suppose.' For what it was worth, whatever she told herself apparently worked.
The spirit moved her attention to Asala. She was much, much smaller than the Qunari woman, but held herself with a great deal more poise and confidence, for all they looked similar in age. There was a quiet certainty to her demeanor that Leon supposed most people did not achieve. He wasn't sure if it was more or less ordinary in the denizens of the Fade. Only rarely had he been this close to one.
With a flowing hand-motion, the spirit conjured herself a staff, planting the end of it in the ground and shifting her center of balance a little. "You are Asala Kaaras, then. I am... well. What I am is not easy to explain, but for your purposes, I am Compassion. You can call me Ethne, if you like. Why is it that you've come all this way to find me?" She flicked her glance momentarily to Cyrus, her smile inching a bit wider. "Your teacher used very pretty words to tell me, but I would like to hear yours, even if they aren't as pretty."
"He did?" Asala asked, glancing at Cyrus for a moment before snapping back to the spirit to her front. "Uh..." she stumbled, but wisely closed her mouth afterward to think on the words she chose more carefully. She seemed confused for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question before realization began to sink in. "I want... to do more," she answered, looking up to meet the spirit's luminous eyes. "If I am able, I wish to do everything that I can for my... friends," she said, turning to face them. She allowed them a small awkward smile before she continued.
"Not only that but..." she said, her losing her grip on her words. She hesitated for a moment more before something else came to her, and she moved forward. "I--I did not understand it at first but, Tammy... Tammy once told me that there was a lot of pain in the world. The only pain I knew at the time was scraped knees and tiny scratches," she explained, smiling at the remembrance. The sweet smile did not last long, however, soon replaced by a thoughtful frown. She was no longer speaking to the spirit, but rather just aloud--to anyone that would listen. "But... I see it now. I saw it at Adamant, but--I knew it at Haven. I think... I understand what she meant." she said, her arm dropping from her collar to wrap around the other.
"She--But she said that I could be a shield. That there were too many trying to cause harm, but that I could be the one that protects. I try, but I... I just do not know." She grew silent, but she began to shake her head. She wasn't finished yet. "I want to try though, I want to try to be that shield--I want to try to ease as much of that pain as I can."
She sighed afterward and her shoulders dropped forward and encased her into a shell. "I... hope that is satisfactory," she said to the spirit, offering an unsure smile.
Ethne did not answer that directly, but she did maintain her smile. "I see," she said, dipping her head as though she understood. "Then there is one more thing I need you to do." Though spirits didn't breathe, as such, this one retained many mortal mannerisms, and looked to take in a deep breath, glancing briefly at the fountain behind them.
"A friend of mine once said that love is the opposite of fear. I do believe he was right about that. If you wish my help, you must show me that your love and compassion is capable of overcoming any fear, even that brought upon you by outside sources." Returning her eyes to Asala, she tilted her head. "Not far from here, demons of fear and terror dwell, poisoning the Fade and tormenting those who wander near. If you are strong enough to conquer them, then I will lend you my power, and teach you everything of healing these memories have granted me." She blinked. "Will you do this for me?"
"... Yes. I will," Asala nodded after a moment of contemplation. She seemed far more raw than she had before.
"Wonderful." Ethne's smile softened; she reached forward and laid a half-substantial hand on Asala's upper arm. Probably about as high as she could comfortably get. "You might find it helpful to take a little while to prepare. Feel free to wander the garden as you like; I believe it has a nice effect on its visitors."
Letting her hand fall, she turned to the others. "And you, friends of Asala? Is there anything I might do or explain for you, while you are here?"
Romulus looked more than a little moved by the entire display, but he still kept his countenance intact, focused. Thoughtful, however. He kept his hands folded together in front of him and closed somewhat tightly, as though the mere act of letting them near his weapons would be a defilement of this place. "Some of us encountered a spirit not long ago, one that took on the form, personality, and memories of Divine Justinia. She helped me acquire some important memories that I'd lost." He chose to leave out, for whatever reason, the fact that he'd been physically walking the Fade at the time, rather than in dreams as he was presently.
"I think the Divine's... soul, if that is the correct word, is what drew the spirit so closely to her. Is this something similar? This elf, Ethne, is or was someone you were drawn to?" He glanced a bit uncertainly at the others with him. "Sorry for the curiosity. I've been exposed to a lot of things that are strange to me lately. I feel like I'm only beginning to understand some of them."
Leon certainly didn't think it unwarranted. He'd been of a mind to ask something similar, honestly, for this was quite a peculiar spirit, based on what knowledge he had of magical matters. Like Romulus, though, he was a bit out of his element with this one.
"Once, I was a spirit as indistinct as most of those you might meet, here." Ethne didn't seem to mind saying so, maintaining her benign countenance and running her thumb along the staff in her grip. "A long time ago, I made a bond with Ethne as she was in life. A dreamer, like youā" she nodded at Cyrusā "And once a slave, like you." Her eyes returned to center on Romulus.
"She created this place, and returned to it often. Before her death, she left fragments of her memory behind, so that what she knew of healing, and what she knew of history, would not be lost forever. Over time, those memories became a part of the garden itself, and a part of me. Thus I have been ever since." She lifted her shoulders. "I do not know what a soul is, because she did not know. But... if it can be said that part of what makes a person is what they remember, what they did and what they knew and felt, then... in a way, I am she. If only a piece."
This place seemed to render Zahra speechlessāwhich was a miracle in its own right seeing as she hadnāt really shut her mouth since Romās little rendition. Sheād been gushing about how adorable Asala had been in hersā¦ until the unusual shift happened once more, giving way to a sight even she couldnāt comment on. She was left slack-jawed and staring at all of the flowers blooming at their heels. Even as the others exchanged words with the spirit in question, she seemed drawn towards the items strewn across the mossy ground.
She hadnāt moved anything since theyād first walked in. Only brushed a finger across the pommel of the blades, and inched closer to the discarded tankards. She peered at the half-empty bottle and cleared her throat, as if deciding that she wanted to pose a question after all. There was a moment of silence, before she straightened her shoulders and strode back to the others. āDo places like this stay in the Fade?ā She swept her hand at all of the roses, and glanced back at Ethne, āAre there other places like this, that remain? Pieces of memories left behind.ā
A short laugh sounded. As if she thought the question ridiculous in nature, but she was too stubborn not to pose it.
Ethne blinked, apparently considering the question. "I'm sure there are some," she replied at length, "but it is not an easy process, to leave one's memory here. Nor can many people or spirits create realms like this. So there are probably fewer than you are thinking."
There was certainly a lot to consider. Leon thought he understood better, now, why this spirit required that Asala be tested. She seemed to be in possession of a lot of valuable information, and if she was really the legacy of a near-ancient somniari, he could understand taking particular care not to be warped into a demon, or come into the service of an unworthy individual. And he had great difficulty believing she had any ill intentions.
As soon as Asala felt herself prepared, the group re-gathered and left the garden, striking out after Cyrus, who could in fact sense demons but was probably only leading them to... wherever this illusion was set up. Leon didn't know if he was going to create it himself by shaping the Fade or if Ethne was doing it, but in either case it did not take long before the world started to darken around them. It was exactly what he thought a fear-realm would be likeāperhaps inspired by Nightmare's domain or something of the kind. The sky was almost black overhead, skittering noises audible form a distance even when the mages in the party cast their lights over their heads. As though the edges of the light were stalked by spiders, or some other sort of crawling vermin.
The chill was unnatural, too, creeping down his spine with a sense of deep dread. Up ahead, there were other lights, paler, issuing from twisted demon forms that drifted about in the nearly-formless gloom. What shape they would take, he had no idea, or if they would attempt to talk beforehand, as some demons did.
All of that was likely up to Asala.
He supposed that made some sense, for a dream.
He wasn't sure when it appeared, but a fixed point did show up on the horizon eventually, and grew closer as they continued to walk. He'd read that only spirits of considerable power and age could create their own static locations. Well, they and somniari like the one who led them.
āIs that what we're looking for?" He put the question to Cyrus, gesturing to the spot. He couldn't tell quite what it was from here, only that the green seemed to be... less sick-looking than the one around their feet and over their heads.
āThis is where she dwells." Cyrus said it with a tone of confirmation, so the 'she' must refer to the spirit in question.
Some span of time later, they at last reached the boundary into the realm. It seemed to waver, reaching outwards as though to enclose them, but from the lack of surprise in Cyrus's reaction, Leon could only assume that this was normal, so he stepped forward to meet it. Light shimmered over his vision for a moment; when he blinked, he opened his eyes to a very different landscape.
Green was everywhere. It reminded him of his first journey south, beyond the decayed steppes of his harsh motherland and into the softer world of those who could grow enough to sustain nations. The colors were gentle on his eyes to a one, but it wasn't only green. Flowers bloomed, riotously in sprays, on bushes, and from climbing vines carefully coached onto trellises. It was a kept garden, but there was a sense about it of the wild as well, the organic rather than the manicured. The scent on the air was a light perfume that changed slightly when they moved, as the flower species changed, but clearly it was organized so that none of the notes ever clashed, as though its architect had engineered it for bouquet as well as visual appeal.
Cyrus led them down a small, winding cobblestone path. Evidence of some kind of presence was everywhere, though what kind of presence it was, Leon found difficult to tell. In one place, a pair of curved swords lay sheathed in the grass, casually discarded next to a pack, a thick wool blanket half-spread over the ground, as though someone had been preparing for a picnic or nap in the warm sunlight overhead and abandoned the effort partway through for some reason. A low retaining wall hosted a couple of dinged tin tankards, a bottle of something standing half-full between them.
As they approached the center of the garden, they passed by several more elaborate architectural features as well; birdbaths, tiered flowerboxes, and even a granite fountain, water burbling pleasantly from the mouth of the drake carved into the top of it, and from the down-pointed spear-tip of the armored woman also depicted, one hand resting at the base of the creature's neck. The entire place seemed frozen in this single moment, some midsummer afternoon with balmy weather and afternoon sunlight and a mild breeze.
But he couldn't see any spirits.
Asala took a few tentative steps toward the fountain, her hand clutching the collar of her cloak. She had managed to return to her ordinary self during the transition, growing the extra couple of feet to stand back over everyone but Leon himself. She leaned her hands hovering near the fountain, appearing unsure she should even touch it. "Where... are we?" Asala asked. She was nervous, but under the circumstances that was to be expected from her.
"I don't recognize it." Romulus glanced around him, taking in the still scenery. "Maybe... no."
"You're in my garden, of course." The voice came from behind them, and... above? Leon turned, immediately wary, following the trunk of a tree up to its branches.
Sure enough, sitting in one of the lower ones was... a spirit. Itāshe, he supposedāhad a more distinct form than most he'd seen. She was pinkish in color, closer to magenta or violet than red, but the lines of her were fairly sharp. Even from this distance, he could tell that she was an elf, from the pointed ears, and quite slight, probably no taller than five-and-three and thin. Her hair, or the wisps of spirit-stuff that served, was long, held in place only by a thin chain circlet around her brow. She smiled at them and pushed herself off the branch, drifting to alight on the ground below.
She gave a little curtsy of sorts, then turned her attention to Cyrus. "You're back, dreamer. And you brought me your friends. Which one seeks my aid?"
Asala glanced between the spirit and Cyrus a couple of times before she finally got around to timidly raising her hand. "Um, I... I suppose--" she stopped herself and closed her eyes, and from the rigidity forming in her shoulders apparently steeled herself. "I am," she said, attempting to sound more confident by omitting the 'suppose.' For what it was worth, whatever she told herself apparently worked.
The spirit moved her attention to Asala. She was much, much smaller than the Qunari woman, but held herself with a great deal more poise and confidence, for all they looked similar in age. There was a quiet certainty to her demeanor that Leon supposed most people did not achieve. He wasn't sure if it was more or less ordinary in the denizens of the Fade. Only rarely had he been this close to one.
With a flowing hand-motion, the spirit conjured herself a staff, planting the end of it in the ground and shifting her center of balance a little. "You are Asala Kaaras, then. I am... well. What I am is not easy to explain, but for your purposes, I am Compassion. You can call me Ethne, if you like. Why is it that you've come all this way to find me?" She flicked her glance momentarily to Cyrus, her smile inching a bit wider. "Your teacher used very pretty words to tell me, but I would like to hear yours, even if they aren't as pretty."
"He did?" Asala asked, glancing at Cyrus for a moment before snapping back to the spirit to her front. "Uh..." she stumbled, but wisely closed her mouth afterward to think on the words she chose more carefully. She seemed confused for a moment, unsure of how to answer the question before realization began to sink in. "I want... to do more," she answered, looking up to meet the spirit's luminous eyes. "If I am able, I wish to do everything that I can for my... friends," she said, turning to face them. She allowed them a small awkward smile before she continued.
"Not only that but..." she said, her losing her grip on her words. She hesitated for a moment more before something else came to her, and she moved forward. "I--I did not understand it at first but, Tammy... Tammy once told me that there was a lot of pain in the world. The only pain I knew at the time was scraped knees and tiny scratches," she explained, smiling at the remembrance. The sweet smile did not last long, however, soon replaced by a thoughtful frown. She was no longer speaking to the spirit, but rather just aloud--to anyone that would listen. "But... I see it now. I saw it at Adamant, but--I knew it at Haven. I think... I understand what she meant." she said, her arm dropping from her collar to wrap around the other.
"She--But she said that I could be a shield. That there were too many trying to cause harm, but that I could be the one that protects. I try, but I... I just do not know." She grew silent, but she began to shake her head. She wasn't finished yet. "I want to try though, I want to try to be that shield--I want to try to ease as much of that pain as I can."
She sighed afterward and her shoulders dropped forward and encased her into a shell. "I... hope that is satisfactory," she said to the spirit, offering an unsure smile.
Ethne did not answer that directly, but she did maintain her smile. "I see," she said, dipping her head as though she understood. "Then there is one more thing I need you to do." Though spirits didn't breathe, as such, this one retained many mortal mannerisms, and looked to take in a deep breath, glancing briefly at the fountain behind them.
"A friend of mine once said that love is the opposite of fear. I do believe he was right about that. If you wish my help, you must show me that your love and compassion is capable of overcoming any fear, even that brought upon you by outside sources." Returning her eyes to Asala, she tilted her head. "Not far from here, demons of fear and terror dwell, poisoning the Fade and tormenting those who wander near. If you are strong enough to conquer them, then I will lend you my power, and teach you everything of healing these memories have granted me." She blinked. "Will you do this for me?"
"... Yes. I will," Asala nodded after a moment of contemplation. She seemed far more raw than she had before.
"Wonderful." Ethne's smile softened; she reached forward and laid a half-substantial hand on Asala's upper arm. Probably about as high as she could comfortably get. "You might find it helpful to take a little while to prepare. Feel free to wander the garden as you like; I believe it has a nice effect on its visitors."
Letting her hand fall, she turned to the others. "And you, friends of Asala? Is there anything I might do or explain for you, while you are here?"
Romulus looked more than a little moved by the entire display, but he still kept his countenance intact, focused. Thoughtful, however. He kept his hands folded together in front of him and closed somewhat tightly, as though the mere act of letting them near his weapons would be a defilement of this place. "Some of us encountered a spirit not long ago, one that took on the form, personality, and memories of Divine Justinia. She helped me acquire some important memories that I'd lost." He chose to leave out, for whatever reason, the fact that he'd been physically walking the Fade at the time, rather than in dreams as he was presently.
"I think the Divine's... soul, if that is the correct word, is what drew the spirit so closely to her. Is this something similar? This elf, Ethne, is or was someone you were drawn to?" He glanced a bit uncertainly at the others with him. "Sorry for the curiosity. I've been exposed to a lot of things that are strange to me lately. I feel like I'm only beginning to understand some of them."
Leon certainly didn't think it unwarranted. He'd been of a mind to ask something similar, honestly, for this was quite a peculiar spirit, based on what knowledge he had of magical matters. Like Romulus, though, he was a bit out of his element with this one.
"Once, I was a spirit as indistinct as most of those you might meet, here." Ethne didn't seem to mind saying so, maintaining her benign countenance and running her thumb along the staff in her grip. "A long time ago, I made a bond with Ethne as she was in life. A dreamer, like youā" she nodded at Cyrusā "And once a slave, like you." Her eyes returned to center on Romulus.
"She created this place, and returned to it often. Before her death, she left fragments of her memory behind, so that what she knew of healing, and what she knew of history, would not be lost forever. Over time, those memories became a part of the garden itself, and a part of me. Thus I have been ever since." She lifted her shoulders. "I do not know what a soul is, because she did not know. But... if it can be said that part of what makes a person is what they remember, what they did and what they knew and felt, then... in a way, I am she. If only a piece."
This place seemed to render Zahra speechlessāwhich was a miracle in its own right seeing as she hadnāt really shut her mouth since Romās little rendition. Sheād been gushing about how adorable Asala had been in hersā¦ until the unusual shift happened once more, giving way to a sight even she couldnāt comment on. She was left slack-jawed and staring at all of the flowers blooming at their heels. Even as the others exchanged words with the spirit in question, she seemed drawn towards the items strewn across the mossy ground.
She hadnāt moved anything since theyād first walked in. Only brushed a finger across the pommel of the blades, and inched closer to the discarded tankards. She peered at the half-empty bottle and cleared her throat, as if deciding that she wanted to pose a question after all. There was a moment of silence, before she straightened her shoulders and strode back to the others. āDo places like this stay in the Fade?ā She swept her hand at all of the roses, and glanced back at Ethne, āAre there other places like this, that remain? Pieces of memories left behind.ā
A short laugh sounded. As if she thought the question ridiculous in nature, but she was too stubborn not to pose it.
Ethne blinked, apparently considering the question. "I'm sure there are some," she replied at length, "but it is not an easy process, to leave one's memory here. Nor can many people or spirits create realms like this. So there are probably fewer than you are thinking."
There was certainly a lot to consider. Leon thought he understood better, now, why this spirit required that Asala be tested. She seemed to be in possession of a lot of valuable information, and if she was really the legacy of a near-ancient somniari, he could understand taking particular care not to be warped into a demon, or come into the service of an unworthy individual. And he had great difficulty believing she had any ill intentions.
As soon as Asala felt herself prepared, the group re-gathered and left the garden, striking out after Cyrus, who could in fact sense demons but was probably only leading them to... wherever this illusion was set up. Leon didn't know if he was going to create it himself by shaping the Fade or if Ethne was doing it, but in either case it did not take long before the world started to darken around them. It was exactly what he thought a fear-realm would be likeāperhaps inspired by Nightmare's domain or something of the kind. The sky was almost black overhead, skittering noises audible form a distance even when the mages in the party cast their lights over their heads. As though the edges of the light were stalked by spiders, or some other sort of crawling vermin.
The chill was unnatural, too, creeping down his spine with a sense of deep dread. Up ahead, there were other lights, paler, issuing from twisted demon forms that drifted about in the nearly-formless gloom. What shape they would take, he had no idea, or if they would attempt to talk beforehand, as some demons did.
All of that was likely up to Asala.