Prologue
This was a recurring dream, one that did not fall into the category of either sweet or nightmare, but settled neatly somewhere between the two. Set in a huge, intricately detailed ballroom with full orchestra, the dreamer danced alone in the center, surrounded by waltzing couples. Iskeita stood alone by the wall, impressed by the boy's imagination. All of the couples had distinct, individual faces and clothes; the floor bore a pleasant design in red and white marble; the ceiling was a mosaic dome of the night sky. The orchestra had distinct harmonies coming from at least three sections. Details were usually more blurry in the dreams of children. She was fairly certain the dreamer didn't want to be a dancer, but he would rather be dancing with someone else than alone. The ballroom was heavy with his shame. The couples and musicians began to turn into stone, like they did every time. Soon, the boy was dancing alone in a silent room. He smiled in relief.
The room began to fade to white. The boy was waking up.
Iskeita bowed her head, smiling, and leaned back, slipping through the wall.
She found herself inside a house in the black of night. Iskeita followed the dreamer, a dwarf child, through the home unseen. It was eerily quiet but for the single roar of some monster in the distance. The child crept through the house, leaning against the walls for support. The dwarf's fear weighed heavily on the atmosphere, and it dragged itself through each step, filling with greater dread. Like in most dreams, the details were fuzzy and the universe only existed just around the dreamer. The small dwarf came to a room empty but for three larger dwarves lying in a pool of blue blood, dead. The dreamer screamed, crying. Iskeita looked at the dwarf for a moment before she lifted an open palm; the room brightened, and the blue receded. The three bigger dwarves, its family, sat up. Its mother moved forward to comfort it. The weight of the child's horror lifted, and she straightened her posture.
Falling through the wall of the dream, Iskeita smiled to herself. Nightmares were usually impossible to catch.
This next dream was much nicer. A man was driving a vague old car, and beside him sat his father. She gathered from the weight of the driver's relief that his father must have died in Reality, possibly many years ago. They seemed to be hashing out old memories.
"I knew he was out there somewhere," the old man said. "I spent months looking for him. Pity it took so long."
"I can't believe you made such a big deal out of him," the dreamer smirked. "He's way too serious. I can't imagine you two getting along."
Iskeita felt the white stone in her necklace burn. She phased through the car, left alone on the road with literal nothingness for miles around. She had drifted too far downstream, she realized, taking a deep breath and watching the car drive off into the distance. The stone burned again.
"Isk, Thor needs a favor from you. You remember him, right?" The cold voice rang out from the warm, white rock. "Please come here."
She held the stone carefully between her index and middle fingers. "Certainly, mother," Iskeita frowned. She gazed at the car, now little more than a dot in the distance. Suddenly, the road vanished from beneath her feet. This dreamer had to go back to Reality.
She might as well join him.
I realize this chapter was rather short. As it is the prologue and a short introduction, this is much shorter than a standard chapter will be. Chapter One should be up soon and (in theory) will be about three times as long. Anyway, this is my first story and I would appreciate any constructive feedback you may have to offer. Thanks for reading!