Crimson Ascension

The Catalyst District 99 holds the key to what we must know. The Gloom. The Gate. The Mines. All are linked, somehow. I have little evidence to support my theory, but I know in my heart that it is true.

–Nerovian Orenn, Virien of the fallen House of Amethyst Dragons

Draven's eyes snapped open the moment Finn's projection entered his domain. The young Dreamer's outline was blurred, almost as if made of shadows. He walked a few paces into the room, looking from side to side, eyes incapable of seeing amidst the darkness, before nodding to himself.

"Finn, took you long enough," Draven said, standing up from the familiar rag near the fire pit.

"Yeah. Well, it's not easy to find the signature of your consciousness." The Dreamer's voice was distant. He spoke from Daesvor, sending a projection of himself to the Corridor rather than stepping into it. "For some reason, you and Helvan were always difficult to find. Must be an Archon thing."

"Perhaps." As Draven stood up, the surrounding constructs dissipated into Hexion, which returned to his astra. "Are you and Elevalein ready?"

"Ready as we can be. Come now, projecting myself here is a pain."

Draven took Finn's outstretched hand, and the world folded up in itself. Darkness gave way to light. Stone became clouds and soft soil. It was his first time in Daesvor itself, so Draven didn't know what to expect. A gasp escaped his lips as he opened his eyes to behold the land of dreams.

The world was vibrant and colorful. Unnaturally so. It was as if a child with little sense for art had stolen their parents' paints and attempted to immortalize their first piece of art. There was no sun in the sky, yet the light was ever-present, all-consuming—the opposite of the Sixfold Corridor. The ground was soft and white, but it seemed to flicker with color as the wind changed directions.

Trees in the distance swayed and danced to a tune none could hear, and to Draven's surprise, diminished into sprouts before returning to the ground as no more than seeds. A few Sovrans walked around, eyes hazy-white, altering their surroundings with each step they took.

Draven blinked. The world changed. What in the Abyss… He looked around, trying to find Finn. Daesvor was complete and utter madness. One blink changed the world so drastically that the only thing that remained unchanged was himself.

"Finn!" Draven shouted. The Dreamer was nowhere to be seen. "This isn't funny, Finn. We don't have time to waste on your jokes! Finn."

Morph emerged from the folds of his clothes. His tongue twisted in the air, tasting it. "Something is wrong with this place, Aiden. Can you feel it?"

"What do you mean?" Draven unfolded his Presence hoping to make himself easier to find, yet his will melded into Daesvor seamlessly. He could not distinguish what was his will and the aura of the land of dreams. "Everything is wrong here."

"I don't understand it, but this place feels familiar. An odd thing, as I've never been here before, and neither did my… predecessor." Morph jumped onto the ground. The Hemomorph Mantle encased his serpentine form until all that remained was a walking armour the size and shape of a man. "Very odd indeed. It's almost as if I could…"

The white ground changed to red, and Morph extended his hand. With a flick of his wrist, pieces of the white soil burst from the ground and became a sword. Draven frowned. Daesvor was the land where all dreamers went once they fell into a deep sleep. It responded to the whims of the regular folk only to a certain extent, manifesting their desires and bottled worries as they walked its soil, unaware.

But only a Dreamer could mold it consciously. The last time Draven checked, Morph was attuned to the Blood Path. "How is that even possible?" He extended his hand and willed the ground to become a glass of water.

Daesvor complied.

A transparent glass filled with water fell into his waiting hand as if answering the commands of an Empyrean of the Dream Path. Interesting. The glass turned into a book. Is this Finn's doing? But if so, where is he? Draven crushed the book into powder and walked to no particular destination. Rather than relying on his senses, he used his will to carry him where he needed to be.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Something might have happened to Finn. What other reason could he have for not following Draven into Daesvor? Should he return to his body? Could he return to his body? It was not like he was trained in the Arts of a Dreamer, after all. To change his surroundings with his will was much like commanding hexion to take a particular shape. But to find his way back to the Haven?

That was another matter entirely.

"We will have to wait here for Finn." Draven congealed a chair out of blood and took a seat.

Morph paced around, his armor leaving streamers of red in the air. "Are you sure that's wise? What if something happened back in the Haven? I don't like this, Aiden."

Hesitation flickered in Draven's eyes. He tried to shrug it off, but Morph spoke his worries out loud. It was doubtful that anyone could easily hurt his body, not after reaching a Durability of 100, but Finn and Elevalein were not so fortunate.

"You're right."

"This wasn't ever going to work, anyway. If the Corridor could be trodden by others, then people would already have found a way to do so." Morph shook his head. The Mantle disappeared into a cloud of blood. Instead of falling to the ground, the little red serpent swam in the air to Draven's shoulder.

"This place makes no sense, Morph." Draven closed his eyes, focusing his will into a command. "I hate it when things don't make sense. No wonder Finn is a little wrong in the head sometimes. It's gotta be the effect of this damn place."

Morph barked a laugh.

Draven honed his will into a knife, mustering his thoughts in a single direction. He could feel the call of his body, the beating of his heart. Amidst all the heartbeats in the Haven, his was unique—like a fire burning in the night, he could spot it from miles away. His eyes snapped open as his thoughts flared like thunder.

Return!

***

Draven woke up with a gasp. The moment his soul returned to his body, he leaped out of the bed, a blade of blood forming on his hand. His Presence crashed into the inn, dark, on edge. Finn gasped and fell to his knees. Elevalein groaned as if flattened by a falling boulder.

"Abyss… what are you…"

No intruders in the room. No one else but Finn and Elevalein looked pale enough to put shame on someone dying from blood loss. Draven recalled his Presence and let go of the blade in his hand, which dissipated in the air instantly.

"Where were you, Finn? What kind of joke is that?" Draven snarled with barely contained anger. "It wasn't funny, I'll tell you that. Leaving me by myself in that crazy place."

Finn picked himself up from the ground. "Did you smoke some hexion? What nonsense are you spouting? I brought you with me, but when I looked back, you were gone. Dammit, I looked for you everywhere."

"Stop it, you two." Elevalein frowned. With an absent hand, he adjusted the sword at his hip. "You weren't with Finn once he returned to Daesvor, brother. What happened? Did you not leave the Corridor?"

Draven sighed, the frustration leaving his body. It had not been one of Finn's weird jokes? If not, what in the Abyss happened? "I left it alright. Before I knew it, I was in Daesvor. Alone."

"Dammit, Draves. I know you don't know much about it, but couldn't you at least have released your Presence so I could find you?" Finn clicked his tongue, but his face seemed troubled. He looked at the ground as if contemplating something, but soon dismissed it with a sigh. "It's common sense. Shouting my name and all that."

"I did it, Finn." Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. "I shouted your name. Dammit, I blasted that place with my Presence, but you never came. I… thought something must have happened here for you not to find me. Then, when I returned and saw you two awake, I thought you were just being… difficult."

Finn ignored the last comment. "You shouted my name and unfolded your Presence, yet I didn't feel it? How is that possible?"

"I don't know. You tell me—"

"I wasn't asking you, man. I was asking the man who might know the answer." A ball of light emerged from Finn's chest. It's radiant dim light, as if weakened—undoubtedly the effects of Finn manifesting him outside for too long.

"It shouldn't be." Korvax's voice echoed in the room, originating from the hovering sphere. "What sort of stupid plan was this, anyway? I've taught you how to shield yourself and others from the eyes of the Maker, but to bring Draven into Daesvor? What were you thinking?" Anger laced his words. "The Presence of an Archon there would be like a Torch burning in the night. His will alone should have disturbed the land of dreams enough to warrant that man's scrutiny."

"There was no disturbance." Morph poked his head out of Draven's shirt. "If anything, our Presence felt indistinguishable from the nature of that place. We could even command Daesvor to obey our commands."

"But you're no dreamer…" Finn's eyes widened.

"Impossible." Korvax's voice was shaken.

"It's true, Father. All it took was a thought, and the white soil turned into whatever I could think." Draven said, not missing the worry on his friend's face. He knew beforehand that what he did wasn't normal, but he had not grasped the full implications of it.

"Finn," Korvax's voice was ice. "Return to your quarters and restore my Echo to its full capabilities. There is something wrong going on here, and we must know what. A Mender should not be able to command Daesvor. An Archon not of the Dream Path should not meld into the land of dreams, unnoticed."

"What does it mean?" Finn scratched his chin, worried.

"I… don't know." Korvax's voice trembled. "I've lived long enough to have mastered the entire Dream Path. If there is something about it I don't know… that scares me more than anything."