A FEW MORE DREAMS LATER
Fenn was in Sidhe this time.

It always looked a little as if someone had taken Althanas and flipped it on its head. Or at least, that was how Fenn saw it. He squished his toes in the blue-white snow, staring up at the frothy green sky above. Where was Sidhe exactly? Above Althanas, below, neither?

Across the untouched field of cold, fluffy snow, there was something a little less familiar. Ice and pine yielded to a gritty gravel, to jutting boulders. The speckled grey rock lead directly up to a sharp drop-off. Curious, Fenn wandered over for a better look, walking slowly over the gravel to spare his feet a bit. A long ways down, the cliffside melted into an inky blackness. When he leaned over the edge for a better look, a stale breeze washed up over him. It smelled… old. Not old-people old, but as if something ancient in the dark was gathering dust as it breathed in and out. He knew that this was a dream. He wouldn’t die if he fell in. Right? All the same, an unfamiliar dread filled him. This wasn’t a good place.

Banrion was already somewhere in the dream; if he was clearheaded enough to know it was a dream, and to question the choice of landscape, she had to be. He wasn’t sure whether he himself had molded this strangeness, or whether Banrion had possibly inserted it. How much agency she had over his mind, Fenn didn’t know.

<Banri?>

“I am here, my child,” she spoke up from behind.

Her voices reassured him; at least, he wasn’t alone with this gaping hole of black. Like an open wound. <What’s up with this dream?> he asked, lowering himself to sit next to the abyss. <I didn’t make it, did I?>

Banrion’s heavy footsteps were quieted by the snow and fir needles. She took a seat next to him, shaking her head. “This is mine. Dreamwalking is a tricky art. Memories from one mind can bleed over into another, given that they have interacted before. Your typical state of being is highly permeable, very open. I find that an eagerness to learn and explore makes one more receptive of outside forces — a potential vulnerability. Then again, one does not know how you react to hostile forces. Willpower and perception are powerful factors in the realm of dreams.”

Daintily, the Chancellor picked up a stray pebble and dropped it over the edge. It took a moment for it to wink out of sight.

Sigh. “If you were wondering, this is-”

<The chasm,> Fenn concluded for her. Merely peering into its depths made him feel tired and dizzy. <I remember Morrighna threatening me with it; they toss people in here then? I can’t see the bottom. Where does it go?>

Banrion’s heads dipped down to gaze on the chasm’s hollow. “Down, pigwidgeon.”

Uneasily, the boy scooted a half-foot back from the edge.

They briefly basked in the serenity surrounded the drop-off. Except for the wind, all was still. For a moment, Fenn could close his eyes and just listen to the background noise; animals moving, the wind rustling the branches. It had surprising clarity for a dream. Some creature warbled an unfamiliar cadence somewhere amid the leafy blue canopy. He wondered what it was. When he opened his eyes again, Fenn found Banrion staring into the abyss with an unusual expression. Pinched lips, half-lidded gaze, mane pressing flat to the back of her neck.

<You look sad.>

She startled out of her reverie, blinking a few times. “Sad? No, pigwidgeon. I am merely tired. Extremely tired.”

<Well, why’s that?> he huffed. <You should be sleeping like me if you’re tired!>

“Were it that I could! I only managed to snatch his half-hour to check in on you.”

A celebration? If that didn’t pique Fenn’s interest, what could? He liked parties. His ears pricked up, and a slight smile widened across his face. <What’re you celebrating?>

“Nothing in particular. It apparently ‘seemed about time’ for another one, according to our dear Regent.” Both of the Chancellor’s delicate sets of teeth were bared in distaste. “It is utterly ridiculous. Before Morrighna, our celebrations were far more bearable, days of self-reflection and relative tranquility towards one another rather than blind indulgence. They were occasional. They had meaning. Now, well, we scrape the bottom of the barrel of belief for something we can half-heartedly claim is worth a Regent’s revel.”

<Well, dancing is really fun. I can see why they would want to do it so much,> Fenn said, shrugging.

“Such things would be all in good taste, yes, if we did not do them every rotted week!” Banrion seethed. “They lose their luster when they go from a rare treat to a constant headache in the back of my mind. Morrighna likes to leave the bulk of the planning to Sciathan and myself; Banrion, be a dear and find some musicians. Banrion, where is the wine? By my own damn divinity, she grates on me.” Distressed, the Chancellor ran a claw through her mane. “I believe she is even giving me grey feathers. And for what is this trifling? To waste ourselves and our resources on petty, meaningless celebration? If we could merely give our court some focus, we could do great things, I know it. Our dear, useless Regent is holding us back for her own silly sense of hedonistic desire.”

She looked so frustrated that moment, her brows furrowed and mouths caught in a bladed snarl. Hesitantly, Fenn found himself reaching out to pat her reassuringly on the shoulder, leaving a dapple of frost on her cloak.

Just as quickly as it came, Banrion’s anger drained away, leaving nothing but the tiredness again. Her hard crimson gaze melted. “My apologies. I regret burdening you with my own complaints. It is not a matter for you to worry about, child.”

Fenn beamed. <I don't mind. At least it’s not like I have to deal with Morrighna myself, right?>

He’d be happy never running into the little banshee again, to be honest. Just hearing about her made his spine shivery.

“Correct,” Banrion replied — yet with an odd hesitating lilt. Her mouths were tight with concern. “Fennik, I must leave now. You are waking. Merry meet, merry part, and may we merry meet again.”

<Bye,> he murmured back.

Banrion flickered out, and very suddenly, the dream began to fall apart. Fenn gasped as the gravel and rock beneath him gave way to empty air. There was nothing to grab, nothing to halt his descent into nowhere — anywhere he looked, the world was crumbling inward beside him. It was as if the memory of the abyss had swallowed the dream’s world whole.