With all that is and was, Aylune couldn’t deny that he felt the same fear. “No, definitely foolish, but I’m willing to pay the price necessary. Maybe I have too much zeal in these bones, or maybe I’m fighting a pointless battle, but were these deities without flaw they would have conquered the known world given their proclivities, or at least taken every inch to divide amongst themselves. They rely on worship, and hide behind followers. I do not see an almighty being there; I see weakness within them, and to me they are little more than Emean monsters with mortal ambition whom have grown out of control.”
Tilting his head to the side and shaking slowly, Aylune wondered if he was far too hardened to them all. “If there truly were an Immortal beyond reproach, who genuinely cared for Idalos and the Spirits as I do, then I might lay my trust upon them, but I have been across the world, and I have only seen their efforts to subjugate and manipulate.”
With the topic shifting to dreams, Aylune gave an abrupt nod. “That makes perfect sense; there are many nights still in which I am not Lucid. It’s all a balance, for my weary mind and body to overcome, and my emotional fragility. I have grown, but perhaps I should test my limitations more.” The Becomer stood and stepped over to the wall as his Familiar watched on. Aylune peered upon the stones, probing them with some deep feeling inside himself. Reality seemed to shudder and melt. “Hmm...”
Ears flicking up at the mention of Sparks, Aylune looked back. “Is that so? It’s always felt strange asking of my Sparks here, but now I have good reason not to.” Raising a paw and placing it upon the cool, wet stone, he looked over his shoulder to peer up at Balthazar. There was a new connection in his mind, as if he could Govern the realm as he had seen another Dreamwalker do so long ago. All he needed was the picture of a door in his mind’s eye, and it began to emerge with its colorful stone design marred by Melrathi runes and odes to the Spirits. A door to anywhere; a door to the veil, or perhaps to wake, should the one who opened it have that intention.
Gazing upon his work, Aylune grinned. “We learn more Trial by Trial, little secrets and expressions of our Soul and our Spark. This is the race we must contend with before we die, and even perhaps before we allow our souls to pass on. What is death but another journey, so long as the soul remains?” Shrugging, Aylune’s tail whisked the earthy cobbled stone floor before he turned around and sat a paw upon his dear Familiar’s head.
Rubbing back and forth until his companion began to calm and shut his eyes, Aylune continued his conversation with Balthazar. “They are a different quarry than man, so it makes sense that the normal tools of your trade would not work. I suppose that means I’ve chosen the right trail for dealing with this dilemma, then.” Those words regarding the knife in the back hit far too close to home, and he wouldn’t give a response. Such possibilities were constantly on his mind. Aylune did not fully trust. Not easily, anyway.
“His memories of you,” Aylune said as Balthazar questioned his Familiar, who remained largely silent. “He was there when we met, and knows of the Sparks we share. He did not mature among the world of men as you and I, but rather the world of Souls and Spirits with total aversion to their company, so he’s ...eccentric, and also shy. Isn’t that right, Needle?”
The Familiar chuffed a hot waft of air, somewhat frustrated by it all. “I try, but you confuse the mind just as well, Aylune,” said the Diri-like companion.
