Chapter 2

Thomas handed her a couple sticks of barbecued pork from a plastic bag and a bottle of ice-cold beer from his shadow. He also handed her the change. The deal being since he provided transportation and the utilities, she could at least shoulder the expenses. Which was a welcome arrangement since she didn't need to spend a dime on any tickets—or barely any time getting there.

Only now did the gravity of him offering to take her to and from places before really sink in. He opened up what he called a Corridor of Darkness that let them portal to and from places as long as either of them have been there before—provided she shared her memories with him.

Which was on some level a lot more intimate than making out on second thought, but on another level was kinda like sharing a usb drive too. Just, organically.

Magic took a lot of getting used to.

They were sitting on her couch—the very same one she had at home—beneath a retractable tent he just bought from Divisoria first thing when the sun came up—on a patch of grassland by some remote mountaintop somewhere in Sagada. She wasn't too sure either exactly where they were since they just picked out the closest spot without any people or roads leading up to it and set up shop right there.

There wasn't any internet at all where they stayed, but her apartment's insides were apparently just a small portal away so they both left their phones charging back at her place and he could just pick them up whenever either of them wanted to check for notifications.

She was still pretty sure they weren't dating, but they might as well be by this point.

"We spent the whole night together and watched a sunrise by the mountains and now we're drinking together. That's a whole lot of our friendship boundaries crossed and thrown to the wind."

Kat shrugged. "That was then, this is now. And besides, would you do this with any of your other friends?"

Thomas hummed. "I would yeah, though usually we hang out as a group. You and I don't really share a group of friends so its always just us two together."

"Then, would you rather not hang out?"

"It'll hurt more not to be around you."

"As long as you tone down the mess I can deal. I mean"—she gestured at the view—"this is pretty hard to pass up, and besides, without me you wouldn't have even bothered considering going out." He nodded. "Touch some grass and get your head out of the gutter, maybe we can hit up a bar and you can meet more people after that."

Thomas nodded. "I have been thinking I needed more guy friends. To balance things out since most of the people I'm close to are girls and I don't wanna be that kind of guy."

"How many guy friends do you have anyway?"

"Depends on what qualifies as close, out of the four I'm still in contact with that I went to college with—I only regularly meet up with one of them. One of them hangs out mostly with his own group of friends, and the last two both pretty much live in the ass end of the North and South respectively."

"But now you can visit them anytime?"

"That I can. Though realistically I can only visit the guy up North since he's single. The guy down South lives with his girlfriend already. I'm not really sure, they both don't stay in contact that well."

Kat frowned. "Do they still count as friends when they're like that?"

"Personality wise, those two—since the guy and the girlfriend are both part of our college friend group—were always the loner types. Low-maintenance friends. Quality of time over quantity, that kind of thing."

"I don't know man, sounds kind of off to me."

"Maybe, but it's more of whether the connection stays strong is how I see it. And the connection does, even when I haven't spent that much time with them." Thomas brought out his Key. "Call it weird, but now I have a more tangible way to check if the connection's still there. It's how I found my way back here."

"Must be nice," she said. Having a tool like that would've saved a lot of heartache and guesswork.

"Partly yeah, though I wouldn't ever wish you to have to go through what I had to get this." He vanished the Key. "It's worth the effort, but to have gone through the effort to get this in the first place? It was a lot. I trust you'd get through it. I'm more worried how much of you would be left after."

"And that's what happened to you?"

He breathed out. "That and more, yeah."

They both looked out towards the horizon, to the sea of grass and leaves and flowers swaying against the morning sun.

"We've got time," she said.

"That we do," he agreed, leaning back into the couch. "Now's as good a place to start as any. So, it began like a dream…"

And just like with any other kind of dream, it started in the middle.

I had woken up from a bed I didn't recognize, in a room unlike any kind of hotel I've ever been to. It was a classical kind of arrangement. There was a lot of woodwork with tapestries hung up to give it all a lived-in feel. There was cool air coming from a unit I didn't recognize that had no visible knobs or dials or anything.

The room had a vanity and an obvious dresser, both carved and elegant and gilded, but I couldn't place the style or era of the patterns. They looked nice. But it all looked so weird, yet strangely normal. Just like in a dream. Nothing made sense but it didn't matter because there was an internal logic somewhere somehow at work that made everything alright.

I got up just fine like clockwork, didn't feel anything weird except for a vague sense of restlessness. I was in clothes I didn't recognize and looked out the window to see a rustic renaissance like vista—but with streetlamps and the odd person dressed in something that could've been called modern leisure wear.

It was an odd assortment of anything and everything.

The room's floor was covered in a deep green and heavy carpet that was pleasant to my bare feet. I walked over and opened the window, it was a solid but simple wooden panel with just as thick but clear glass.

The window I was looking out from was around five floors away from the streets and yet I could still make out what everyone else was saying down by the cobblestone paved streets. It was like being back in Europe but older and with an odd mishmash of different eras blended up.

In came the unfamiliar sounds of the city—because it was a city—there were people shouting for their wares to be bought, haggling on prices here and there, and some alien phrases like looking for people to enter the Dungeon or something relating to Magic or even something as mundane as something about elves and dwarves.

When I heard something about Magic, I then put two and two together and decided I was in a dream.

Because for some reason, I simply knew that I had a Keyblade then.

I was in a dream and didn't question it. How wrong was I then. And so I did as I wanted and from a flash of silver sparks, lo and behold, there was a Keyblade just like that.

It was every bit as brilliant as the one I'd showed you time and again. They resembled my house key, a tumbler pin type key—not like the usual ones from the games. Mine was closer to what Fenrir or Braveheart looked like—ah right, you weren't familiar with them, we could google it later—right, so it was a short sword like thing, rather simple but all in bright silver.

And when I held it, something fundamental within me awoke—like when the caffeine finally kicked in and things just started making sense. But none of it did. More information just appeared in my head. And I knew. Just like how everything always made sense in a dream.

I could fly—well, glide—and do some of the things Sora could do, but not everything, and some even he couldn't do. I could cast the usual spells and a little bit more. But that was it. Magic and a Keyblade and a few of its usual perks. Though being able to open Corridors was something only the Nobodies and Heartless ever did. Though I suppose Master Xehonart and Vanitas used to do that a lot too. Probably. We could just google those again later.

And just like with any other dream, whenever I had a chance to fly, I would.

And so I did. I climbed out of the window and just… thought happy thoughts or something and took off—as naturally as anyone might have tried before having never flown with real magic.

It didn't work though. And from that window I fell so painfully slow. Leaning forward didn't exactly mean go forward. There were still some rules to it that I had yet to identify. But it was a dream anyway and I didn't know whether I still had time.

I landed in the middle of the street amongst the hustling people of Orario—I didn't know the name of the city yet by that point—and no one really cared that there was someone barefoot and holding onto a strangely shaped object. There were a few who gave some nasty stares, more annoyed than curious. Most of the questioning looks came from the occasional child.

Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, dark-skinned women—apparently a whole 'nother race called Amazons—people with animal features, and plain old humans. Everyone was living as they were and going about their own business and didn't give two hoots about little old me in the middle of nowhere, clueless and partly confused.

Probably because despite the weirdness of it all, the unnatural calmness brought about my acceptance of it all being a dream made it as if everything was fine.

It was not.

I once again took to the skies, my legs bringing me further and farther than I could have ever thought. Leaping towards the low, clay-tilled rooftops of the cobblestone houses and landed with a grace unbefitting someone that should have been obeying the laws of gravity. I didn't need to though. Not whenever I held my Keyblade—or whatever other form it might've been changed to.

I jumped from roof to roof, trying out all the ways I could better make use of my new-found ability to nullify gravity. I twisted in the air. Flipped. Spun. Posed and finally giving up, swam through the air. It was the closest to have worked at putting some control to whatever it was I was doing—but it wasn't the right answer, just the one I figured out at the time.

Since I wasn't too high up, I was still able to take in the sights around me.

There was a gigantic tower in the middle of the city, and the walls at the bounds of Orario stretched out into a circle with the entire territory enclosed by mountains in one spot and some flat area here and there while a river cut through a portion of one end.

Dotted here and there were placed that sold food both raw and cooked, some smells familiar and some not. There were fruits of all kinds, some tropical, some temperate, all coming from different seasons. Which wasn't that strange from a modern perspective since our farms are somewhat able to fudge the seasons—but in hindsight it was pretty impressive what sorts of magic the farming-type familias could pull off.

There were also the occasional general goods places, selling raw materials like both pre and processed lumber, ingots and more useful everyday forms like nails and tools and pans and the like. But there were also stranger places that sold eyeballs from a jar or all manners of tails and bones and gunks and juices.

And then came the even stranger ones—the ones that sold swords and staves and armor and all the usual tropes of fantasy land.

But again, it all felt like a dream, so none of it made sense and none of that mattered.

Until something started mattering, that is.

"Hey, you there, please wait for us," called out some random guy.

He met my eyes and I pointed at myself in question.

"Yes, you, please wait for us."

He was together with a cat girl and an elf girl. They were dressed like everyone else was dressed: in whatever they felt like. The guy was wearing some kind of studded leather jacket, the cat girl was in a skirt and a vest showing off a bit of skin, and the elf was pretty much dressed in something Lolita-style. Or maybe it was something tamer? It didn't have a lot of lace but there was always a lot of frills on anything Lefiya wore.

I didn't have a reason to stop and neither did I have reason to go. I didn't mind. I waited for them to catch up.

"Could you please go back with us?" the guy said. "Our goddess is really worried about you."

At the time I didn't know that Loki had already claimed me as one of her children. And Raul, Anakitty—yes, that was the cat girl's name don't judge—and Lefiya were the ones tasked with bringing back my wayward ass.

But just as before, I didn't have a reason to listen to anyone from my dream—more so now that I was lucid. I didn't even bother answering and simply leaped away. Leaving them behind.

The wind whooshed against my ears just like before, only to be accompanied by a shrill scream.

"Hey, please don't run away!" Came the guys's worried tone. "The captain will have my butt if you don't come back with us."

The three of them likewise took to the roofs leaping after me.

And call it the thrill of the chase but instead of letting sensible thought guide my next decisions—since I was in a dream none of it mattered—I just did whatever I wanted.

I brought my Keyblade to bear against them and shot a wind spell at myself. It catapulted me straight up into the air with an unnatural and should've been dizzying speed—but again since it was a dream, it all felt right as rain and I found myself cruising through the skies at god knew how fast, wind magic pushing me around here and there.

They couldn't conceivably follow me after that, but it was too fun so I went ahead and blasted myself all the way to the center of the city, up above the tower in the middle of it all.

That's when I met someone who had the personality of a brick wall in love.

I landed on the marble roof—the entire damned building was apparently made out of marble somehow—and found myself in the presence of the strongest person in Orario, the one they called the King. I didn't know who he was at that time, and frankly, he was an alright guy once you get past the prickly exterior and the mad devotion to that weirdo.

"Please leave," he told me.

He had some weird ears I couldn't place but he was a giant of an animal-person. Easily another two thirds of my height. I didn't care too much about specifics. But he was huge. And he also had a just as huge sword strapped to his back.

I didn't bother answering the figment of my sleeping mind. It was a certain kind of sad to be lucid and trying to reason with your own subconscious. I ignored him and took in the expansive view. Buildings stretched out all the way to the city wall's edges, with buildings growing older and worn down the further they were from the center.

"I will not warn you again," he said simply, his face the same impassive mask. "My lady does not wish for you to be anywhere near her."

Still, I didn't listen.

I turned my back on him—and lost an arm in that same moment.

"Healing magic?"

"Healing magic," Thomas said. "And to be honest it didn't really hurt immediately following. It takes about a second or so before your brain gets over the shock and registers the pain."

"So you've had your limbs cut off more than once before?" It was all a bit too hard to believe with how pristine Thomas's skin was. But given the things she'd seen so far, it wasn't a stretch.

"Ottar was a lot nicer than he let on since he could've torn away both my arms in that span of a breath, but he went ahead and used a sword. Much cleaner, and way easier to fix up too."

"Sounds like a lot of experience."

"Way more than I'm comfortable to admit to. Back there the guys would just stick the limb on and pour an elixir over the cut off arm or leg and it'd be alright again after a while. But since my magic was more convenient and practically free, my biggest job in the raiding parties was as a medic if you'll believe me."

"I can see that," she said.

"Right, so right after that…"

"Curaga," I said. Green light appeared where the arm used to be and bridged the gap to the cut off limb and pulled it back in. Mind you I'd never seen actual healing magic used before so that happening didn't seem so strange, but ask any other mage and they'd tell you that would've been impossible otherwise.

"Leave," the giant said.

I stood my ground, challenging the one that bothered my pleasant dream. But not before casting a Reflega around me. That's a spell that creates a shield that explodes when it soaks up any damage.

Though when you think about it, it's practically just a magic claymore mine.

The man swung his blade. I only saw the aftereffect rather than the act.

My barrier shattered into a million shards of light and went off right in his face.

But he remained unscathed. People didn't call Ottar the King for nothing. His clothes were roughed up and lacerated, with his tight fitted shirt thing showing the bronze of his skin in place, but there was neither a scratch or even the smallest smudge against him.

He didn't say anything, only brought his sword forward before another barrier shattered and more magic exploded against him.

It was only thanks to me casting Hastega on myself after the second barrier that I caught the second time he attacked. Hastega would increase the rate of time passing for whatever was affected, really useful in most situations except for when someone was bleeding out or suffering through an ailment.

He didn't bother with a fourth attack, because his focus was so razor sharp that I felt it slam into me like a wave of invisible force.

Now, even during lucid dreams there would still be those rare moments beyond my control where forcing my will against the internal logic of the dream world would end up waking me. And so far, that breathless, stretching of my will getting thin had not occurred yet and everything was happening in real time just fine.

The giant fixed me with his gaze then swung his blade.

Then I was flying backwards into the sky faster than when I'd been shooting myself with magic. My barrier remained unshattered, yet I was blown away like a leaf in the wind. Our eyes met while I was hurtling round and round. A quick explosion of wind killed my momentum and put me back in control of my floating. Well, gliding, but it was really just a name.

I shot myself back towards him but stopped myself short of standing on the tower once more.

"You're pretty rude for some weirdo in someone else's dream," I told him, finally giving in.

In my head I was considering whether to float away and bombard him from a distance, and again since I was dreaming and still had a whole repertoire of spells unused it was still a viable strategy. And again in hindsight, it likely wouldn't have worked. I would have been better off going after Freya straight up since killing a familia's patron god was like hitting the win fight button against their entire faction in a heartbeat.

His face remained the same stone mask. "And what makes think you're dreaming?"

I wanted to say something back but he had a fair point. "It would be rather meta if a figment of my imagination did point that out."

He raised a brow. "I came here expecting a monster and all I found was a madman."

"Wow, that hurt." Even on a good day I didn't think I could think up something that harsh. "And really, if this isn't a dream then that would mean I'm flying for real."

"And yet here you are."

Upsetting would have been an understatement. But it was what it was. Here there was a guy telling me I wasn't in a dream. The guy who had so far considered everything one. And well, call it a sign of good character and good fortune that I hadn't so far shot anyone with anything worse. In fact, I technically hadn't attacked anyone directly yet. Ottar was just being himself and not giving a crap about getting hit point black with magic that could reflect whatever damage it received.

I pinched myself.

It hurt. "Oh."

The guy's face barely twitched but the disappointment was so clear for all the world to see. Not that there was anyone else there. It was really just us two. Which felt worse.

"I think I need to sit down for a bit."

He nodded. Like I said, the guy was nicer than he usually showed. "Keep using that barrier magic of yours. It lessens your presence."

I nodded my thanks and floated down. Just as smooth as when I first flew. Glided. It didn't really matter anymore by this point. A duck by any other name was still a duck and that wasn't gliding but flying. And you've felt it before too. It's like floating in the middle of the water where gravity and buoyancy would cancel out. It was the same thing here.

My knees gave out under me. They felt like jelly. "I'm upset you had to point it out, but I also get it might have been for the best."

"Why did you believe yourself dreaming?"

I unsummoned my Keyblade then summoned it again. "I couldn't do that… a day ago? Maybe? Hell, I don't even know where I am."

Part of me realized this guy could have likely killed me with the things he'd just casually done earlier. But as sobering as it was it also reminded me that I was able to easily heal back whatever damage he dished out. As for how much I could still use my magic for after—because there was no such thing as an infinite resource and if I learned anything from any of the games or stories I'd lived through before then it was that magic always had a cost.

"And now you can. Rejoice, not everyone is able to gain such an impressive skill."

"And I supposed magic is also fairly normal here?"

There was the slightest tilt to his head. "How far away did you come from?"

"Very far, judging from how nothing is making sense so far." I tried standing up but my entire body was numb.

"With your magic it is hard to believe you were taken against your will from elsewhere."

"Thanks, that's reassuring at least." Since I couldn't stand, I willed myself to float and shrugged off gravity just like that. It didn't matter that I wasn't actually standing. "What's more impressive though is how we're talking to each other just fine."

"That you're not afraid of me is somewhat refreshing."

"Eh, you're an alright guy. But I meant like language-wise, its amazing that we can understand each other."

"You are speaking the common tongue."

"I'm talking in English though."

"Are you sure you're not sick?"

"You know what, maybe I am?"

He tossed a corked glass tube filled with a purple liquid my way.

I caught it. The liquid was translucent and milky and sparkled against the morning light.

"For your trouble," he said. "It won't heal a mental affliction, but anything else ailing you it can help with."

"You really are as nice as I thought."

He cracked the slightest smile. "You should also ask the goddess Loki about your situation."

My face must've looked funny because the crack of a smile grew by like, a millimeter. "That's oddly specific. What brought that on?"

"The back of your shirt carries her sigil."

"You're nice, but you have a sick sense of humor."

"What's your name?"

"Thomas. You?"

"Ottar." He brought up his hand.

I shook it.

"Their home is a large red castle." His grip tightened the slightest bit. "Good luck."

Then he yeeted my sorry ass straight towards where he said I would get my answers.