The chamber shimmered in hues of twilight, a boundaryless expanse where stars drifted like fireflies. "Viega mūžīga" [Eternal Slumber] sat upon a throne woven from tendrils of silken mist, his form vast and nebulous, shifting like an ever-changing dream.
At his feet knelt his daughter, "Sapnā spei" [A Dream of Hope,] her form more human, yet faintly translucent, like a candle's glow in the dark.
She smiled as she watched her father paint dreams with colors, guide sleepers and quell nightmares.
"You're resolute," Eternal Slumber murmured, his voice a sonorous echo. "Even knowing the dangers lurking that realm, you would still venture forth?" He asked all the while concentrating on his task.
The girl looked up, her eyes gleaming with an almost childlike fervor. "Every dream, every slumber, whispers of how significant this is, Father. I feel its pull—its need for something only I can offer." she said confidently.
A low sigh rippled through the expanse, shifting the stars themselves. "Foolish," Slumber intoned. "But I will not deprive you. A dream denied festers into… nightmare" he said, flicking a canvas where an inky dot had started to spread. "Go, daughter. Perhaps your choice is wiser than I perceive."
Hope rose to her feet, bowing low. "Thank you, Father." She turned, but before she could take a step, her father's voice halted her.
"Wait." The single word carried a weight that stilled time.
Eternal Slumber lifted a hand, and the fabric of the realm quivered. "The path to that realm is… treacherous. The lady you see..." His form darkened, edges fraying into shadows. "...cannot be trusted. I will forge the path myself, so her influence does not ensnare you."
Hope hesitated. "Do You perhaps doubt me?"
Slumber's laugh was soft, like the rustle of wind through autumn leaves. "I trust you. But trust and caution are not foes. After all… It is her nature I question."
Slumber rose, his towering figure casting cascades of light and shadow. He extended his hand, and the realm trembled. "Watch closely, daughter." The act of dreamwalking demands precision, calm and patience—it is art that defies the logic of the waking world."
The space around them shimmered as his words took form.
"Dreams," he explained, "are threads spun from the subconscious—fragile, intricate, infinite. To walk through them is to weave them into reality. But her confinement is a paradox: a dream that has no dreamer."
As he spoke, his hand traced the air, and luminous threads emerged, intertwining like constellations. They pulsed with a rhythm, an unseen heartbeat.
"You must guide the threads, coax them into a bridge. Not with force, but with understanding. Each strand whispers its own truth, its own fear, its own desire. Ignore them, and the bridge will collapse; heed them, and they will carry you beyond."
With a sweep of his hand, the threads coalesced into a portal, swirling with ethereal hues of silver and blue. The air hummed with an almost musical vibration.
"Step through," Slumber said, his voice now soft yet commanding. "But remember: dreams give, and they take. Do not linger where her will dominates."
Hope hesitated for the briefest moment, then nodded, stepping into the portal.
Behind her, Eternal Slumber watched, his gaze unreadable. "Be careful, my child," he whispered, though the girl was already gone.
______________
The sound of pens scribbling on paper filled the air. The environment exuded a natural calm as a large group of people sat outdoors, each garbed in white, smiles etched on their faces.
They wrote stories, fables, essays—whatever they wished to immortalize on paper.
A bright, middle-aged man walked between the rows separating the writers. Like them, his presence radiated positivity, tranquility, and an unshakable sense of goodness.
He continued walking until he reached his destination, stopping in front of a writer who had surprisingly ceased scribbling, seemingly out of ideas.
"Xtofa, I am here for you. Walk with me," he said, prompting the girl to look up. She nodded and rose to her feet, trailing at his side.
They walked together for a couple of minutes, leaving behind the area where the other scribes worked. The conversation began as soon as they were alone.
"You've hit a roadblock and have nothing left to motivate you?" the man asked, his tone warm with curiosity.
"I would love to deny it, but the evidence is clear for all to see," Xtofa replied, unfazed.
He took in her reply and then said "Although, I honestly didn't think it possible for you. You are her daughter, after all."
His words caused her to frown. She halted her steps before responding.
"I believe I've told you about this. Do you intentionally do it to get on my nerves? My mother is my mother, and I am me. Do not compare or base my achievements—or shortcomings—on her," she said sharply.
He smirked, then shrugged. "I apologize, but that's hard—if not impossible. She is, after all, the greatest female war scribe to ever exist." he stepped closer, his voice dropping. "But you… you tarnish her name. It's appalling to witness."
Xtofa's eyes widened. She exhaled, visibly restraining her emotions.
But then She smirked and fired back, her tone cutting but playful. "Well, from another angle, maybe that's why she never married you. Compared to my father, you lack everything a man should have."
The man's jaw dropped for a brief moment before both of them burst into laughter.
"You've gotten better at this," the older man said between chuckles. "I didn't even have a comeback for that one."
"I learned from the best," Xtofa replied smugly.
They enjoyed each other's company, eventually settling down on a dry patch of land. The man brought out a flask of wine, and they shared a drink. The air was jovial yet carried an undercurrent of tension.
"She has caved in and agreed with the other elders," the man said, his voice heavy. "You will be transported there. I'm sorry, Xtofa. I couldn't do anything. I've failed you." his head dropped down as he couldn't meet her eye. overwhelmed by shame.
Xtofa chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "I never expected you to do anything. You don't need to put yourself on the line for my sake."
She stood, raising her hands toward the sun as if capturing the celestial body in her grasp. "They think, since my parents are absent, they can dispose of me by sending me to that perilous place," she said mockingly. "But… I beg to differ."
Slipping a hand into her robe, she retrieved a small book filled with stories of strength and valor.
"That place will be my inspiration. It will forge me into someone far stronger than any of them could imagine." Her grin stretched from ear to ear. "Just watch—I'll bring down the paper walls they hide behind."
The man stared at her for a long moment, a smile creeping onto his face. He said nothing, simply enjoying the view beside her.
'Truly,' he thought, 'a daughter of her mother.'