2.8 The Faraway Dream

‟But... I didn't even take the gem!" Flora complains.

She receives no answer.

 

 

This landscape is like nothing she's ever seen. Pieces of it float in the open sky, where the cloud swirls — if that's what they are — form beautiful spirals. 

 

Aside from the sounds of water stirring against rock, it is crushingly silent. Flora is used to being alone deep in temples and catacombs, but being alone here is spooky.

 

 

She walks towards a structure in the distance, walks for hours, only to eventually find it is a lighthouse on an island in... a lake? A river? An ocean? The water goes further than the horizon, and that's all she can say about it, without knowing where she is.

‟HELLO?" Flora screams.

There isn't even an echo, there's just a soreness in her throat, where the sound tore out of her.

 

 

An abyss, where jellies float through the air...

Flora comes across a few buildings, carved from rock. 

 

 

Their cavernous interiors have things like tables and chairs, and Flora guesses this was meant to be a home. For who, or what, she couldn't know.

A haunting portrait on the wall is her only clue so far. It depicts a man, woman and child. A family? Friends? The woman and the girl aren't human, or at least are dressed up or painted to not look human. A funerary urn sits on a small table under the painting, along with some toys. 

 

Did the child die? 

 

Did the child leave the toys to keep the deceased company after one of the parents died?

Flora shivers. This place is damp, and cold, and she very much wants to leave it in peace.

 

She breaks into a run when she gets above ground again. 

Flora thought she had a keen sense of direction and a good eye for landmarks, but she finds herself confused here, going in circles.

 

The ache in her legs seems real... but dreams always seem real when you're in them, she reminds herself. And the longer she's here, the more that thought bothers her. The longer she's here, the more her actual life — the life where she has a home and a family and an important quest to complete — feels like the faraway dream.

 

 

 

She strives to reach another big structure in the distance... a castle-like thing, with many domes. Entering it is as easy as ascending the stairs.

 

It's almost homey. There's a kitchen, a piano, beds that are soft and inviting...

 

 

 

The woman and child again. The human isn't with them this time. Flora is filled with an unreasonable sense of loss.

 

 

 

Exploring on her own two feet has brought her no closer to escape, so Flora sits her butt down for some meditation... not for answers, as those don't tend to come to her in meditation, but for zeneports.

It only takes minutes now to empty her mind and become one with her surroundings. Her body is flooded with energy, and begins to float off of the cold ground...

 

 

Flora zeneports to one of the floating "islands" above where she just was a moment ago.

 

She knows a chest full of valuables when she sees it.

Inside is a keystone, much like the ones she was hunting down for the Resolute Fist.

If this place isn't a dream, then it must have been created to mock her.

 

The well is deeper than it could possibly be, given where it's situated. 

 

Either it's an optical illusion, or Flora has discovered portals.

It was portals!

Not that the greatest scientific discovery of all time is doing her any good right now, with no understanding of how it works nor anyone to tell about it.

She uses the power of her magic axe to cut through the wall.

I don't like it here, it whispers to her, its voice tiny in her mind, I want to leave.

‟Can you do what you did in Al Simhara? Rearrange my surroundings so we can leave?"

I'm scared.

Flora frowns.

 

 

She tries to engage the axe in conversation a few more times, as she explores, but it has fallen silent and now won't even manifest when she tries to summon it.

 

‟This is laid out like some kind of art exhibit," she murmurs, contemplating the illegible plaques under the images of merfolk. Some are composed—portraits made to be dignified—while others depict violent acts...

‟Maybe it's a museum?" she tries again.

No one answers her.

 

The fire doesn't harm her skin, but the pain is intense. 

 

Still, Flora does not wake from this dream.

 

She wonders how much time has passed.

 

She has tried to follow the moon phases... but every time she goes somewhere she can't see the sky, the moon changes on her.

Her mind has emptied of all things, except for the drive to find a way out... and yet, while she's sneaking past this arrow trap, Flora rolls a wish to have her first child.

Every keystone she finds has a place.

Pick them up and see where they go, or leave them... it doesn't seem to matter what she does. She isn't rewarded for either choice. Everywhere she goes, there is only loneliness.

 

Finally, there is nothing to explore but the lighthouse. She zeneports to it.

 

 

And only after she finds it empty does she consider...

...there is somewhere else she hasn't looked.

The currents are aggressive—too strong to fight. They pull Flora down.

Yet she doesn't drown.

Whatever it is, she cannot communicate with it effectively...

...and perhaps it was never there. It zips off, fast as a fish, and though Flora is a strong swimmer she cannot keep up, and begins to doubt she's chasing anything but a hallucination. 

A hallucination that led her to this treasure chest, but still.

At first she thought it was a skull in the sunken trunk she opened...

...and then she thought... again... how did I get here?

‟Letting the days go by, let the water hold me down?" someone answers her, their tone lyrical and dreary.

 

‟Hello?" she whispers.

 

She follows the sound of footsteps to a room that is unmistakably a library.

 

 

Bookshelves, chairs, a table-shaped coral...

 

"Alright, alright, I'll show myself."

Where there was nothing before, suddenly there is a person, waving his arms to dispel the magic that kept him hidden from her eyes.

 

‟Hey, Flora. What are you in for?" He greets her casually, as if they know each other.

 

Flora stays rooted to the spot she's in. ‟Are you... Meng Mihuntang?"

 

The man chuckles, the sound melancholy. ‟Goodness, no. Name's Acheron."

 

Flora tilts her head.

 

He seems to have expected a response. ‟Ehh? No comment? You're supposed to say ‟like the river Acheron?" and I deny it. ... ... No? Nothing? ... ... Oh, you've never heard of it?...  Well, maybe you're on a different quest today. You're not the know-it-all archaeologist I remember. So, uh. What happened? Chosen One of the Resolute Fist again? Mummies or vampires this time?"

‟I was on a mission to reseal Dong Huo," she says, tension deflating but confusion rising. ‟I touched a piece of turquoise, and was transported here."