"Who dares presume to intrude upon this hallowed sanctuary!"

The intruder turned her head to regard the gigantic reptilian owner of the voice. Its horned, golden-scaled head, as large as his body, had risen from the storm-ravaged skies, completely overcast with heavy grey clouds and lightning that tore through the heavens accompanied by furiously crashing thunder. Baring a pair of fangs like daggers, the dragon regarded the stranger with eyes that burned with the wrath of divine judgment.

"I would have thought," the dragon continued in a sibilant voice that held the authority of a divine being, an authority accustomed to respect and obedience from the very laws of nature themselves, "Hoped, at least, that the same mistakes would not be repeated after last time. Would you have your entire world destroyed? And for what? Pride? Curiosity? Some foolish nonsense about reaching an eternal paradise? Nothing like that exists for you here. You won't be able to reach heaven before you're in your grave, I'm afraid, but I'm happy to put you there. Trust me, it'd be more merciful than allowing you to open that gate. It isn't built for mortals to look upon."

No reply came from the trespasser. Instead, she gazed back up at the great gate, ancient as time itself, divine in origin. Carved from marble, it hung seemingly in mid-air at the end of a serene garden of pristine white flowers that seemed to move in their own invisible wind. The double doors were sealed shut without a crack, sealed with a circle of glowing crimson runes in the middle of an incantation the size of a spellbook that spiraled out from the centre. Too vast and heavy for any creature in the world to push, there was no apparent way to open them. She knew how they opened, though. Not by force, or even by a spell: by destiny, knowing the right time, place and words.

Enraged that his command was not even acknowledged, that the miscreant would not even face him, the dragon ascended entirely to hover above the floating garden, revealing the full size of its serpentine body, covered in serrated scales, the tail ending in a sharp spike the size of a halberd's blade. He whirled his tail-spike around in a theatrical flourish, to demonstrate that he had full control over the appendage. The greatsword he held in two hands that extended from his upper body crackled with the same lightning that rent the sky, embodying the disturbed peace of this place.

"A false sanctuary," muttered the stranger, stretching out one arm and unfurling his fingers. Flames blossomed in the palm of his hand, "It's meaningless. Just another cut rope so nobody can get to the top. Not interested in being here any more."

Not dignifying this with a response, the dragon struck, lashing out with his tail then wheeling sideways to swing at the trespasser with his brilliantly lit sword. Both blows passed straight through the figure of the mortal human woman, sending out splintered reflections, as though she were a mere shadow cast by the flames. She reappeared in the same place, never looking away from the gate or breaking her chant, even as she twirled her other wrist and sent a stream of fireballs at the dragon.

The celestial warden suddenly wondered how she had even found this place, as obviously unaccompanied by a beast who leads, or any other guide, as she was. That, and why he felt he had already seen her before...


"I am the lion with the flaming mane," she whispered to the barista behind the counter, "I was captured by the enemy once, but I won't let my guard down again."

The old man, Camellian dark-skinned, his black hair beginning to whiten and recede, although he still had a fine layer of frizzy facial hair, met her eyes and stared at her thoughtfully. She knew what he was examining her for - truth, mostly - and she saw it in his eyes, too. After a few seconds, he nodded and pointed to the back room.

"Don't forget your coffee," he reminded her, grinning. She took the tray containing a strong black coffee and a sandwich that was her late lunch with her through the door marked 'staff only', avoiding the gazes of the few patrons this time of night and trying to look like she was going to the bathroom and not avoiding suspicion at all.

The back room looked more or less like just a smaller, more private room to be insomniac and pay through the nose for drinks in. There were no windows, the lighting was rather spartan and there was a slight dusty smell. On a sofa in the corner beside a glass coffee table, a young-looking woman from Medium Lily with slightly feline features in a yellow dress penned some notes in a battered old notebook full of bookmark tabs, photographs and clippings and sipped at a cup of tea next to a pot. As soon as the newcomer opened the door, the girl looked up at her with those telltale faraway eyes. A young man from Camellia, only slightly older than the woman, dressed in a shabby brown jacket and jeans looked away from his sandwich too, glancing meaningfully at the woman.

"It's okay. She's on the level," said the woman, "Lion, I think."

The newcomer nodded, "That's right."

"Awakened long?" she asked.

"You have no idea," replied the newcomer. The young woman looked her over. She was a mature woman with flowing curls of auburn hair who wore a long red shirt tied with a belt over black jeans and long boots. She carried a messenger bag, which she deposited under the table as she sat beside the other two and resumed eating her lunch.

"Had no idea there were others, though," she continued between bites, "That was Ramsey at the counter, right?"

"Calls himself Rami. Doesn't like the outside world to know too much about him," said the boy, "We can't really help it. We're in this deeper than him. This is Chai, by the way."

"I noticed," I said.

"I don't look any different, no matter how many times. I can't," she said, "Our whole line is like this. He's the boy who escaped Camellia."

"The boy with eyes that glittered brighter than the desert," repeated the other woman.

"Pure poetry. Nothing's brighter than the desert, or more dangerous. It'll blind you," he warned.

"I'm Bernadette, this time around," she said.

"They never named me the first time," he shrugged, "I go by Lucien. You'll meet Kitty. Maybe Linus if he's not still busy doing something."

"His home," whispered Chai, "If the Lion's back, then his home..."

"If you mean the Ice Palace, and 'Linus' is what Penguy's calling himself, then yes, I had to go through there. I was trapped for a long time. Then I wandered into Root Temple," said Bernadette, "Didn't meet anyone else, though. Well, nobody who could have come back as any kind of ordinary person."

"Well, well. Two cases of Awakening in one week. Lucien's new, too," said Chai, "Woke up remembering his journey. Realised it wasn't a dream. You're all lucky, you know. You only see your own."

"You see lots of things?"

"All of it. And I'm starting to see how wrong it's gone," she said, looking more sad than anything, "You should have listened to what I had to say in the first place. Shouldn't have run off. I told you it was important. You should have just come back. Shouldn't have come back late, come back wrong..."

Lucien caught her before she could collapse, held her tight. Her teaspoon still clattered to the ground.

"It's all right. Don't strain yourself," he told her, helping her to sit back down, "Kitty can't bring you back, you know. She can do some things but she can't go that far any more. Those gates don't open any more."

"Yes, they do," whispered Bernadette, "Just not if you wait patiently by the front door."

Chai and Lucien both strained to hear her for a moment but Bernadette's memory left her again. Then the younger woman shook her head, exasperated.

"It doesn't matter. You're right. We're never slaying our senses for it again," she declared, "Never lose our minds or our souls."

"You said it," Lucien smiled.

"The others are coming back in," said Chai, closing her eyes, "Linus looks too hot."

"Well, he's not allowed to take his shirt off again," said Lucien.

"I think it's cold down here, but I don't mind a bit of nudity," said Bernadette, chuckling. She finished her coffee and sighed, closing her eyes.


"I am the lion with the flaming mane," she whispered to the barista behind the counter, "I was captured by the enemy once, but I won't let my guard down again."

The old man, Camellian dark-skinned, his black hair beginning to whiten and recede, although he still had a fine layer of frizzy facial hair, met her eyes and stared at her thoughtfully. She knew what he was examining her for - truth, mostly - and she saw it in his eyes, too. After a few seconds, he nodded and pointed to the back room.

"Don't forget your coffee," he reminded her, grinning. She took the tray containing a strong black coffee and a sandwich that was her late lunch with her through the door marked 'staff only', avoiding the gazes of the few patrons this time of night and trying to look like she was going to the bathroom and not avoiding suspicion at all.

The back room looked more or less like just a smaller, more private room to be insomniac and pay through the nose for drinks in. There were no windows, the lighting was rather spartan and there was a slight dusty smell. On a sofa in the corner beside a glass coffee table, a young-looking woman from Medium Lily with slightly feline features in a yellow dress penned some notes in a battered old notebook full of bookmark tabs, photographs and clippings and sipped at a cup of tea next to a pot. As soon as the newcomer opened the door, the girl looked up at her with those telltale faraway eyes. A young man from Camellia, only slightly older than the woman, dressed in a shabby brown jacket and jeans looked away from his sandwich too, glancing meaningfully at the woman.

"It's okay. She's on the level," said the woman, "Lion, I think."

The newcomer nodded, "That's right."

"Awakened long?" she asked.

"You have no idea," replied the newcomer. The young woman looked her over. She was a mature woman with flowing curls of auburn hair who wore a long red shirt tied with a belt over black jeans and long boots. She carried a messenger bag, which she deposited under the table as she sat beside the other two and resumed eating her lunch.

"Had no idea there were others, though," she continued between bites, "That was Ramsey at the counter, right?"

"Calls himself Rami. Doesn't like the outside world to know too much about him," said the boy, "We can't really help it. We're in this deeper than him. This is Chai, by the way."

"I noticed," I said.

"I don't look any different, no matter how many times. I can't," she said, "Our whole line is like this. He's the boy who escaped Camellia."

"The boy with eyes that glittered brighter than the desert," repeated the other woman.

"Pure poetry. Nothing's brighter than the desert, or more dangerous. It'll blind you," he warned.

"I'm Bernadette, this time around," she said.

"They never named me the first time," he shrugged, "I go by Lucien. You'll meet Kitty. Maybe Linus if he's not still busy doing something."

"His home," whispered Chai, "If the Lion's back, then his home..."

"If you mean the Ice Palace, and 'Linus' is what Penguy's calling himself, then yes, I had to go through there. I was trapped for a long time. Then I wandered into Root Temple," said Bernadette, "Didn't meet anyone else, though. Well, nobody who could have come back as any kind of ordinary person."

"Well, well. Two cases of Awakening in one week. Lucien's new, too," said Chai, "Woke up remembering his journey. Realised it wasn't a dream. You're all lucky, you know. You only see your own."

"You see lots of things?"

"All of it. And I'm starting to see how wrong it's gone," she said, looking more sad than anything, "You should have listened to what I had to say in the first place. Shouldn't have run off. I told you it was important. You should have just come back. Shouldn't have come back late, come back wrong..."

Lucien caught her before she could collapse, held her tight. Her teaspoon still clattered to the ground.

"It's all right. Don't strain yourself," he told her, helping her to sit back down, "Kitty can't bring you back, you know. She can do some things but she can't go that far any more. Those gates don't open any more."

"Yes, they do," whispered Bernadette, "Just not if you wait patiently by the front door."

Chai and Lucien both strained to hear her for a moment but Bernadette's memory left her again. Then the younger woman shook her head, exasperated.

"It doesn't matter. You're right. We're never slaying our senses for it again," she declared, "Never lose our minds or our souls."

"You said it," Lucien smiled.

"The others are coming back in," said Chai, closing her eyes, "Linus looks too hot."

"Well, he's not allowed to take his shirt off again," said Lucien.

"I think it's cold down here, but I don't mind a bit of nudity," said Bernadette, chuckling. She finished her coffee and sighed, closing her eyes.