Scions of the Fabled Kingdom - Chapter 2

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Lady Qeliena Qoradel Quendenfal Ill Quenshin Qoridan Fair Quendenfal. The Sage Princess of Quenshin, The Queen of Stars, The Heir of the Old Seers, the self-important head of the old Quendenfal noble family, the cryptic witch who can’t give a straight answer, the indispensable council-woman who doesn’t have time for “mundane personal matters”, the person that had torn me away from the bliss of my lucid dreams, and my dearestmother.

Despite my amassed indignation, that I had been well aware was just a symptom of petulant selfish frustration, I couldn’t help but stand in awe in before this majestic being.

The one word that might describe her would be otherworldly, which says a lot when coming from an elf with pure noble blood. Her silver hair like strands of moonlight, curving around her soft features like a starry river. Her pristine skin with the faintest purple tone. And most importantly her large rosy eyes that never seem to look at you, but always somewhere far in the distance; at least that’s where they had been looking each time we met–until now. For the first time in my memory, she was looking me straight in the eyes, and I felt like nothing could be hidden from that far-seeing gaze, as if she saw all of my secrets, and even those I myself was unaware of.

And that’s when I had heard her melodic voice echo through my head, intense and overwhelming, yet whispery and distant.

“My dear son, in your young age you’ve mastered The Gift like only few of our people can. With time, you could surprise even the old wise sages with your knowledge...”

“But not you mother!” I wanted to garner some response, some emotion, but as was the custom, all I was left with was just a subtle knowing smile and little else, as if she knew what I was going to say long before I did.

“Usage of The Gift cannot be calculated nor compared my child. It’s a closet full of marvellous clothes in all shapes and sizes one can imagine, and no two are the same. As you know I myself have mostly been blessed with the gift of vision, the stars show me the threads of fate, the knots and webs they weave, the stories of old appear when they have a tale to tell that speaks of the new, but it’s never the truth they tell me, the truth is what one makes of it and that’s why I’m worried about you–that’s why I summoned you here.”

“You are worried about me?” I almost scoffed. This would be the first time, and at the single instance in my life where it was unmerited.”

“Why would you be worried mother? I have finally awoken to the joys of The Gift, I can gaze at the stars and constellations to relive the stories that are etched within them. I no longer need to leave my house to annoy the few travellers that come to our realm, I no longer need to ransack the library to find something I haven’t yet read. I no longer need to follow Olathoën around just to hear some of his stories...”

Olathoën, who was evidently listening to the entire conversation with clear focus, and undoubtedly with a grin on his face, of course couldn’t help but utter a remark at my expense.

“I have to say that I quite miss your childhood days young sir, nothing could keep a guardian as vigilant, as a young boy keen on getting lost on the most straightforward of roads”

“This is what I am talking about mother. I always enjoyed my peace and seclusion, but my curiosity and hunger for knowledge forced me to venture out. Now I can find all the knowledge I need in the tranquillity of my chamber.”

For the first time in my life, I’ve seen what looked like an expression of worry on Lady Qoradel’s face.

“Believe me my child, that your dreaming body lying in your chamber does not mean that you are not undergoing a journey of a different kind, and the waters that you venture into are far more treacherous than even the roads of our land. You need to listen to me closely, for you are unaware of the dangers that lurk in the shadow of the stars.”

“What dangers?”

“Once you let your mind wander through the Land of Fables and Dreams, it is vulnerable to all of its denizens. You might not be the only wanderer amongst the stories, and there are those who lurk among them and wait for an unsuspecting prey. No matter how safe you feel, you must always be on your guard, because while the stars tell the truth, it’s not always clear whose truth it is.”

“How can there be more than one truth?”

“Truth can be many things, and there are as many truths as there are eyes that perceive it. And stories are not made out of truth and clarity, but by the dreams and beliefs of those that believe in them, and those can differ like leaves in Autumn.”

“You still haven’t told me about any real danger, you just keep spouting cryptic half-wisdoms, but no true advice.” I was losing my patience. All this for a meaningless lecture, but I was still listening to what was said, for I would be a fool to utterly ignore what was being said, but my mind was already set on the joys that the night might still have in store for me.

“Advice cannot be so easily meted out when talking about stories hidden in the Dreamscape, for while they might open your eyes to some dangers, they might also close them from others, I merely try to give you a lantern, but you must make your own light.
But be aware that when you make your light, it shall illuminate the world in its own colours. If you came into a story expecting something, you shall seldom not find it–but it also works the other way around; what you find might make your light shine differently, and you must be careful not to bring that light back with you, for in certain lights, dreams, fables, stories can be hard to discern from reality.”

My mother ended the sentence with a grim and almost threatening undertone, her rosy eyes filled up with purple colour and I could see before me a pale figure from the most dark of nightmares.
This hallucination lasted for a second, but it had brought back my waning attention. 

“And now my dear son, listen carefully to my last warning:
The more time you spend in the Dreamscape, the less it shall seem like a dream, and unless you keep your mind sharp, your wits ready, and your ears deaf to the sweet lulling of the Land of Fables, you will soon forget which part of you is dreaming, and which one is awake. And when that happens, you will no longer be able to live through those stories, but they shall now live through you instead.
And if that ever happens, there might be no coming back.”