One week prior to Eilonwy, Tabitha, and Claire's arrival...

Kellach, the eldest son of Jourdain and Torrin, had had a restless night as he tossed and turned in his sleep. He had been dreaming again—a dream he had been having for the last few months about a girl. She wore strange clothes and lived in a place with buildings that seemed to reach the sky. Most of all, it was noisy, what with unusual machines driving on stone surfaces and the like. Of course, all of this was a blur to him, as his reoccurring dream never really made any sense. On top of that, he had no idea what he was seeing, only that maybe his crazy brain was having more obscure imaginations. However, the girl was the easiest to fix his sights on. He followed her without even trying; it was like his body moved on its own without his feet even having to move.
He had so many questions—about the girl and everything else.

At last, he was free from his mind-boggling dream and woke up in a sweat. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. His mind still felt fuzzy, and his body feeling somewhat foreign to him. It was the same feeling when his soul was transported into the Spirit Keeper to save Zendric's life all those years ago. Only this time, his soul was able to move around freely.
The seventeen-year-old finally lifted his head from his pillow to get up for the day. His younger brother, Driskoll, was still asleep and snoring softly. There was a wash-bowl of cool water sitting on a corner table near his bed; after splashing some water on his face to help further wake himself up, Kellach tip-toed his way out of the room and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. His mother was already up and prepping breakfast and his clockwork dragon familiar sat at the window, clicking and ticking at the things going on outside. When he saw Kellach, he gracefully propped himself up on his master's shoulder.
"Good morning," Jourdain said softly in that sweet motherly voice. She had been absent in his life for so long, five years to be exact, that it was almost unreal at times to see her back in their home.
Kellach opened his mouth wide and yawned. "Morning," he walked up to the wooden counter and started helping Jourdain with breakfast. He cut various vegetables and threw them into a pot of boiling water. He was used to cooking, had to do it every day for himself and Driskoll after their mother vanished during the Sundering of the Seal. Even after her return, Kellach continued to cook, helping his mother with the little things. Plus, early mornings were usually all the time of day they'd have together one-on-one; where they could talk about things without getting interrupted.

The young wizard stared blankly at the boiling pot as he stirred the vegetables, his familiar, Locky, cooing.
"The look on your face tells me something is bothering you." Jourdain nudged her son in the shoulder with her elbow. Kellach stood a head taller than her, something she was still trying to get used to. "What is it?" she asked.
As calm and collected as Kellach looked on the outside, right now he was letting his guard down. He let out a long drawn-out sigh and moved the pot off the burner. "It...it's hard to explain." He scratched at his temple, eyes squeezed shut as he tried to fit the pieces together from his dream.
Jourdain patted Kellach on the shoulder. "Come, tell me about it at the table. You can let the vegetables cool for now." She walked over to the table where she took a seat sitting across from her son. She sat patiently waiting for her oldest to speak.
Kellach took in a deep breath through his nostrils and slowly let it out. He rested his elbows on the table, arms crossed, and avoiding his mother's gaze, and Locky hopped off his shoulder, sitting on the table now. "I've been having these weird dreams lately—no, it's the same dream over and over." Jourdain nodded once, listening carefully. "There are these buildings that look so bizarre, and people walking around in very peculiar clothes. Nothing at all like what we have here—anywhere!"
"A different realm, perhaps?" Jourdain pitched the idea.
"You see, that's what I was thinking, but why though?" He suddenly remembered the girl, the tip of his nose turning pink.
It was subtle, but Jourdain noticed the change in his behavior. "There's something else, isn't there?"
Kellach nodded weakly. "There is..." His voice trailed off.
Jourdain was eager to know, so she said, "Well, go on then, tell me. It's okay, son."
His mother's soothing voice calmed his itching nerves slightly. "I keep seeing this girl. Among everyone else I see, it's her that sticks out the most. Some times I even follow her, but it's more like I don't have a choice. My body moves on its own."
"Describe the girl to me." Said Jourdain.

Bit by bit, Kellach described the young female in his dreams, her appearance slowly falling into place. Kellach went from timid to confident about the way he spoke of her, and soon, Jourdain had a good idea of what was going on.
"Sounds to me like you're describing someone you're meant to meet."
Kellach blinked at her. "What do you mean?" He rubbed his chin, trying to figure it all out.
The beautiful female wizard chuckled softly. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh. It's just, oftentimes, wizards, or people who live with a higher level of spirituality, tend to dream about their future spouse."
"You mean..." Kellach couldn't spit out the words.
Jourdain nodded proudly. "Yes, Kellach, you're dreaming about your future wife."
Kellach's cheeks heated. "Then how does that explain everything else I'm seeing?"
Jourdain spoke up about the certain possibility that this girl could indeed be from a different world. "I'm almost certain you'd find out more about this in some of Zendric's old books."
The young wizard swallowed a hard lump. "But that means going to his house." Kellach had barely taken a foot into the old wizard's home since he took the place of his mother in the Abyss.

Before more could be said, a pair of clunky boots made their way downstairs, and Jourdain finished getting the rest of breakfast together.
Driskoll had finally woken up. He had grown a lot since Curston was renamed Promise. Although he still wasn't as tall as his older brother, he stood level with his mother; he took a seat at the table and waited for breakfast.
Breakfast was simple, yet tasty, the bacon and eggs went well with the boiled vegetables, soaking up all the runny yolk from the eggs. And while Driskoll tore into his food, carrying on a fun conversation with his mother, Kellach barely touched his food. He stared at Driskoll, wondering if his younger brother even noticed how quiet he was being. Probably not. Kellach had too much on his mind, and his mother's advice left him with much to ponder over.
"Dad says he has a special assignment for me today," Driskoll said proudly as he wiped his mouth clean.
"Oh, and what's that?" Jourdain asked, sitting down with her sons.
Driskoll shrugged. "I don't know. He won't tell me." The fifteen-year-old boy had been a scout for his father's watch for the last year and a half. His goal was to someday take over his father's position and become head of the watch, but that wouldn't be for many years. There were still so many things for him to learn. Suddenly, Driskoll's eyes went wide and he stood up fast, the chair behind him nearly falling over. "Oh shit! That reminds me, I can't be late!" He grabbed his sword and scabbard and made a run for it.
"Language," Jourdain said, but Driskoll was already out the door.
"I should be going, too." Kellach stood, his movements far less sporadic than his younger brother. He took his dirty dishes and cleaned them.
"And where would that be?" asked his mother.
Kellach suppressed a heavy sigh. "To see an old friend." Was all he said. Once he finished cleaning his fair share, he grabbed his leather satchel and headed out the door, his dragonet flying after him.

Taking his mother's advice, Kellach made his way to Zendric's tower. He walked with his head down the entire way, deep in thought. He didn't need to look ahead to know if he was going the right way. After staying away for so long, he still knew his way there like the back of his hand.
Locky flew over his master's head, this way and that, chirping and whirring. Finally, Kellach stood at the foot of the old wizard's home. He stared up at the black iron-bound door for a moment, contemplating if this was a good idea. He felt the key to the door safely tucked away in his robes. Locky brought him back to speed when he landed on his shoulder, clicking his mechanical tongue.
"You're right," said Kellach. "I need to do this." He slipped the key from his pocket and unlocked the door. It opened with a loud creak and he winced at the ear-pinching sound.

The tower had been left to sit idly by; no one had the heart to clean the place out in hopes that Zendric would one day return. The place had a peculiar smell, and Kellach scrunched his nose in an effort to not sneeze over everything. There was dust everywhere, and the only light in the room came from a small, single window.
The dragonet flew off Kellach's shoulder and landed atop a stack of dust-covered books. It was lop-sided, causing the stack to topple over and Locky flying off to find another place to perch himself
"Be careful!" Kellach told his familiar, dust flying into his face, making him have a coughing fit. He waved a hand in front of his face, trying to rid himself of the attack of the dust bunnies.

Soon after the dust subsided, Kellach stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. The place seemed smaller than he remembered, but he was shorter then. It made sense that after being away for so long that certain things would look different to him now. The braided wool rug beneath his feet smelled of mold; rotted food still sat on a cracked wooden plate, and curtains had resorted to nothing but rags with holes as month ate away at them. Kellach was certain that other bugs had decided to make the old Wizard's home theirs. He shuddered at the thought.
Standing there made him feel guilty. He so desperately wanted to save his old teacher—to bring him back to Promise. Kellach wasn't stupid, though. Far from it, actually. But he knew that even if his mentor came back, things would not be the same. They never would. Jourdain was his teacher now, and he had learned so much from her.

No matter the pain Kellach was feeling, it was time to change—time to make a difference in his life, and to do that, he needed a place where he could truly be alone to think, to study...and to breathe.
Kellach opened the window, letting in the fresh air. He tore down the ratty curtains and threw them in the fireplace. From there, he snapped his fingers, a flame igniting in the old hearth and burning away the filth. Locky cocked his head from side to side, watching his master, chirping.
Kellach turned to face his friendly familiar. "What does it look like? I'm cleaning." Locky chirped again. This time Kellach rolled his eyes, a smirk forming at the edges of his mouth. "First time for everything." He told the clockwork dragonet.