Blurry shapes and fuzzy outlines. That was the only thing Canu could make out as he peered around. His body felt weightless, and indeed, it was. He tried to grab his arm, his leg, anything. He was like a ghost. He watched his fingers go through his arms like it was a spirit. I have died, he thought. But where is this place? Hell?

His vision slowly cleared until he realized he was overlooking a mountain larger than he’d ever seen. His body floated through the sky. He could not feel the air or the wind around him. Somehow, he knew he had become a part of the wind. A gust carried him along, viewing all angles of the mountain. Snowcaps covered the mountain peaks. The brown of dirt blended into chiseled knots of jagged, blue rock. One summit peak rose higher than the other mountain peaks along the range.

The taller summit was notably taller. It twisted and spiraled and rose high into the clouds. Canu felt his body drift towards this mountain summit. The peak had become whimsical—reaching and twisting into the sky like a tower. It was illuminated by some source of light, although Canu could not tell from where the light came. His spirit drifted closer and closer, until he could make out a shrewd pathway along the twisted sides of the mountain peak. He saw lumps of something laying along the pathway. As he got closer, he began to realize those lumps were bodies. Some were buried in snow. Some still bore flesh that was frozen over. Others were skeleton, with limps sticking up out of the snow as they lay.

Many have sought this place, but none have found it, thought Canu. Wait, what am I doing here? Canu tried to twist his body, to fly somewhere else. He couldn’t. He was not in control. Am I asleep, or am I dead? Is this the afterlife?

Dozens of religions and tales he had heard ran through his head, but none had described some twisted tower of a mountain that was illuminated by some unnatural light.

Canu was suddenly rushed toward the mountain top and shrieking noises filled his ears with agony. He felt the breath go from his lungs. He saw the great doors to the inside of the mountain tower. In large letters over the door, it read ENA.

The Ena Caves…it can’t be, thought Canu.

The doors did not seem to fit the location. The side of the twisting tower seemed like a normal mountain landscape: all except for that one spot where two oak doors were embedded into the mountain side with those three letters carved in glowing letters above the door.

He closed his eyes, bracing for impact as his spirit rushed towards the door.

He opened his eyes.

I am surely dead.

All around, colors unknown to the eyes of men filled a magnificent throne room made of Jesper, ruby, and rainbow-colored emeralds. The colors seemed to meld together in a faded composite.

There was a sudden sense of awe and authority that brought Canu to his knees, slowly. He had never felt so small before. A great throne was directly before him at the end of the throne room. It was a long hall, and all along the sides of the hall were other throne chairs that were smaller than the other directly ahead.

Someone, or something, sat upon the throne straight ahead. The being was so bright and so white that Canu could not help but shield his eyes from its light. The sound of gongs beating in the distance mixed with calming chants that echoed succinctly from all sides of the throne hall. Rows of ambient and rainbow-colored spirits lined either side of the hall in ascending order up the walls. They sang a song in their tongue which chilled Canu to the core, although he did not know why.

The floors were made of a pearl so pure that he could see the reflection of his feet where he stood. Swirling shapes of unknown colors began to move beneath the surface of the throne room floor. Canu felt the bottoms of his feet go numb. He tried to grasp his own arms again, but it was useless. He was a ghost.

“Am I dead?” Canu tried to shout it, but no sound came from him.

There were ten men with crowns upon their heads along either side of the throne room, leading up to the bright white throne at the end of the hall. Canu looked to these men, shouting to them. None looked. None of them could hear him. They had their attention fixed on the being that radiated a great white light at the end of the hall.

In one succinct movement, all the kings of the hall stood from their thrones, placing their crowns at their feet. They murmured a saying in unison to the great white being. Canu furrowed his brows, becoming anxious. What is this place?

The kings of the hall took their seats. Three creatures emerged from the white being’s throne. With the procession of the three creatures came two beings that appeared like humans, but their skin was glowing a bright white. They were escorting a woman with long locks of golden, silk hair. Her eyes shone a bright blue which illuminated the whole room with its light. The room had become the blue of her eyes. She bowed before the being of bright white light.

“My respect is bestowed unto you, High King,” she said, in a language that Canu finally understood.

The two shining humans stepped aside at either side of the white throne. The brightness of the being who sat on the throne finally dimmed down so that Canu could look without being blinded. The being was still too bright for Canu to look at directly. The kings lined along either side of the hall bowed deeply to the woman who had appeared.

Her beauty stunned Canu. It was not the physical appearance which paralyzed him, but something much deeper within her. He felt safe, secure…joyous. There was an intangible joy that radiated from her. Her face looked free of worry or stress. He desired greatly for her to look his way, to see his face. He tried to step closer, but his body would not let him.

The creatures that led the woman out from behind the throne were indescribable to Canu. He had no words for the appearance which they displayed. His eyes flickered from the creatures, who sat at either foot of the bright white being, who was called the High King, to the woman who had just emerged.

“Aryka, High Queen of the Ena Caves. Your presence moves me to great pleasure and contentment. Of what request do you bring to me this hour?”

The voice of the High King boomed so loudly that Canu was blown backward. He fell onto his back but did not feel anything. The whole room trembled with thunder and quaking at his voice.

Aryka the High Queen bowed once again to the High King. “I feel that I have received a calling to dark affairs that plague the land of Ulda.”

The High King’s brightness was lowered once again so that Canu could make out more of the scene before him. Emeralds and Ruby composed much of the throne that he sat on. Emeralds of rainbow formed a border around his throne.

“I see all that happens there,” replied the High King. “I am sure you have noticed the seal of the Great Abyss has weakened, as I willed it to.”

Queen Aryka bowed her head again in acknowledgment. She lifted her face to the High King ever so slowly.

“Your son has become strong again. His anger festers, as does his power,” said Queen Aryka.

A rumbling of thunder shook the room so greatly that Canu felt his own body tremble under the force of it. No one else seemed to notice in the room.

“And so, he has,” replied the High King. “Ulda sits in quiet waiting of its own destruction. Everywhere you look, wickedness reigns. To the south, to the north…it is the same.”

“I have noticed, my king,” said Aryka. “Your lost son Ravnus loosens his chains which held him for so long. He will inevitably be free. And as you have said, my king, he will have his time to reign in the land of Ulda before his destruction.”

The floor shook and trembled. A bolt of lightning lit up the room within a dazzling display of white light.

“I made a promise in the first days. Ravnus will have his time. It appears the time may have come, but who can know? Who can know besides myself?” said the High King.

“None can know. You alone may know,” chanted all ten of the kings at once.

The King stepped down from his throne seat. The bright white light surged across the throne room and straight through Canu. He gasped, feeling as though he’d been struck in the gut by something.

He looked up. He could see the High King more clearly now. His face still shone as a bright white light but the rest of his body he could make out. He wore a rainbow cloak that shined brightly. He stood face to face with the High Queen Aryka.

“Your promise will come to rest, my king,” said Aryka. “I have seen the plans you’ve laid out and they are spectacular. Did you receive these plans from above?”

“I most certainly did. The One Who is Above has blessed us with a magnificent foundation and ending for this land of Ulda. We will follow the will of the One,” replied the High King.

“I only ask…will the people suffer? The people of Ulda…” Aryka held the king’s hands in her own. Canu stared at Queen Aryka’s profile as she spoke. She was so elegant that it pained Canu to watch and not act. He wanted so badly to get closer—to glimpse more of her inward beauty.

Is this heaven? Surely not, they speak of the One Above…what is this then?

“The people will suffer, but only for a time. They can overthrow this monster, Ravnus,” said the High King.

“The monster who is your son—lest you forget,” said Aryka.

“How could I?” replied the High King.

Aryka smiled gently. “They will need help, my king. I have seen it. The plans are not perfect, as you seem to think.”

“Not perfect? Are you doubting the One Above?” remarked the High King.

“We shall never doubt the One Above, for his ways are set in stone,” chanted the kings who sat upon their thrones. The beings behind the thrones of the kings continued chanting foreign songs and poems.

“I do not doubt the plan,” replied Aryka. “But I have the plans, and I am in them.”

“You don’t mean…” began the High King. Understanding dawned in his eyes. “It is your time, isn’t it?” Aryka stared into his face with her radiant blue eyes. Canu wondered if she could see his face. All he could see was a bright circle of white light.

The High King stepped back and lifted his voice to speak to all who were gathered in the throne room. “Queen Aryka will speak now of her time in Ulda that is to come!”

Wait, do they know I’m here?

Queen Aryka turned slowly, scanning the throne room with her blinding blue eyes. Her eyes gave off a blue light that cast the whole room in sea of oceanic blue.

“I must go to Ulda. The One Above has tasked me. I must be made in the image of those humans who wander the land, so that I may not raise suspicion of my identity. The lost son, Ravnus, must not know of my presence. Elsewise, the plan is foiled.”

The kings raised their voices, “Her time has come. Her time has come. Her last days in Ena are here. Her time has come.” They chanted it two more times over before quieting their voices, giving way to more roars of thunder. The floor has turned clear as crystal.

“Will you require a guard, High Queen? A death for you within that land will result in your eternal demise—this you know—as revealed to you by the One Above,” said the High King.

Canu tried taking a step forward. Shouting. Screaming. Nothing happened. No one looked to him. Am I dreaming? This feels too real.

“I do not wish to receive a guard. Ravnus will know of identity. I will go alone,” said Aryka. “Of my peril that you speak, do not fear. I am competent on my own.”

“Very well,” replied the High King. “What may you tell us pertaining to your plan, my Queen? Or is it to remain for you alone, as told you by the One Above?”

“I cannot say much, for words live forever. And the words with which I speak, even here, may be heard by ears that we cannot see. Do not forget, Anselm completed his task and delivered the Dreamstone to his son. He may be listening now. We do not know.”

“To the land of Ulda, she will go,” chanted the kings.

“I require no weapon, nor escort,” said Aryka. “I must find the son of Anselm. He alone can unite Ulda in its defense against the lost son, Ravnus.”

“Then you are ready to leave this place,” said the High King.

“I am.”

The kings and the beings of light broke into a song that was so pleasant it brought great peace to Canu. He did not want to leave—not ever. This place was safe.

“Then you shall find this man, this son of Anselm, and do to him as you have been instructed in secret by the One Above,” said the High King.

The High King grabbed a scepter from beside his throne and pointed its tip towards the head of Arkya. She stood facing the scepter, allowing its power to transform her into a less glorified body. Her eyes no longer shone bright. Her hair did not shine like fine silk, although it was still blonde. She was shorter and less elegant. Canu studied her intrigued.

When will I wake up?

A flash of memory ran through Canu’s head. A sharp pain shot through his chest. He yelled out in agony. The pain was unbearable. He clutched at his chest, but his hands found nothing besides the ghostly figure of his body.

Queen Aryka had begun walking down the hall of the throne room, towards him. Guards who stood at the great oak doors of the Ena Caves pulled open the doors. Aryka paused at the doors, looking back to the High King. He had taken his seat again upon the throne. His light shone brightly once again, blinding Canu.

He was so close to Aryka that he could reach out and touch her. He reached his hand, but something kept his arm from extending enough to touch her.

The High King spoke, “May the protection of the One Above keep you and guide you, Aryka, Queen of Ena.”

“The Queen of Ena. The Queen of Ena!” echoed the kings, stooping to bow and taking their seats in their throne chairs.

Aryka bowed to the High King, and then took her leave. She exited through the oak doors and the vision began to blur and fade. Canu felt like his body was falling—and indeed it was. Or, at least, his spirit was.

Canu’s eyes flung open. He gasped for air.

“He’s awake!” shouted Emonu, rushing to the tableside. Mota reeled away from his potions table, dropping a flask of something acidic and bubbly. The ground hissed noisily from the green chemicals. Mota ignored it.

“Can you hear us? Canu…Canu!” shouted Emonu.

“Hush. You are nothing but a nusance at the moment,” replied Mota, his voice gruff and tense. Sharp indentations lined the sides of his face and his forehead.

Canu tried opening his eyes, but sleep demanded his attention. He began to drift off again, but the pain would not let him. He grunted loudly. He could feel his body again. He gripped something that was in his hand.

It was the Dreamstone. He felt the smoothness of the stone with his thumb.

“We’ve given all we can give you for the pain, I’m afraid,” said Mota. He wore swaying purple robes and an odd necklace made of gold.

“Don’t you think he can’t hear you?” said Emonu. Mota shot him a harsh look and Emonu shied away apologetically.

Canu slowly brought his right hand to his chest where the pain seemed to be radiating from.

“I’m…alive. How?” Canu’s words came out in more of a groan than actual speech.

“We managed to keep Eshna the Floweress here long enough to heal you. It was a miracle, to be certain,” said Mota.

“You and me both,” said Emonu. “We both owe her now. She’s saved both of us.”

Mota nodded his head, leaning over Canu with a concerned look.

“You may want to rest for a few weeks, perhaps even a month. Your body is going to need some time to heal from that, I suppose.” Mota had his face drawn tightly together.

“Do you know Canu? That’s not gonna happen,” replied Emonu.

Canu tried rolling onto his side, but the pain crippled him. He tried again, this time attempting to sit up at the edge of the table.

“Where’d she go?” asked Canu.

“Eshna?” asked Emonu.

“Yes, Eshna. Who else would I be speaking—” Canu was cut off by his own cries of pain. His right hand covered the spot where Sigeric’s blade had pierced him. He slowly moved his hand to examine the injury.

“Eshna was taken by Elric and Bulig an hour ago,” replied Mota. “As for the wound, I should bandage that up. You don’t want that getting infected.”

“Nope. No time. Come on Emonu, let’s go,” said Canu. He tried lowering from the table but Emonu and Mota were both quick to hold him down.

“No. I must wrap this. Look at it,” said Mota defiantly.

The wound was a wide array of purple, red, and orange along the outside of his pectoral. The center of the wound was black as pitch. Black liquid ooze from the edges of the hole in his chest.

“Eshna filled it as best she could with what she had,” said Mota. “But it is only a temporary fix until you can see someone with greater power than her. She said she only knows of one Floweress with enough experience to heal something like that.”

Canu pushed Emonu’s hands away, signaling that he wouldn’t try to get up. Emonu moved back tentatively, eyeing Canu like a mother would when her baby was sick.

“The slave auction…when is it? What day is it?” Canu got himself worked into a panic, forgetting his wound until a shock of pain sent him reeling into a groaning fit again.

“Relax, Canu. You will make it worse,” said Mota. He had set about finally cleaning the chemicals he had spilled on his floor. The hut was warm and full of interesting smells.

“It is tomorrow, but you will not have the strength to go. Besides, Canu, did you forget? The flasduel and all…” Emonu said the last words nervously.

“Yes, of course I remember, thank you Emonu,” replied Canu sarcastically.

Scanning the room briefly, Canu tilted his head back and let out a heavy sigh.

“So, what of this wound? What did the Floweress say?” asked Canu.

Mota pursed his lips, holding out his hands in resignation. “She…well…erm.”

“Spit it out,” said Canu. He held a dark scowl.

Emonu rubbed his hands along his thighs awkwardly, turning towards the window.

Mota began, “Well, unless you find that Floweress she spoke of, your life is significantly shortened. She thinks some of the venom from that sorcerer Maziq got into your word…” Mota broke off, studying Canu’s face until he gestured for him to go on. “It may have…affected you.”

“Affected me? How?” Canu was incredulous.

“She claimed she could not be sure, but those types of wounds usually cannot be healed. But when they are healed, they cannot hold forever. Maybe ten or so years at most. But after that, you could easily die from the most trivial of injuries.”

Canu stared at Mota, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry,” said Mota.

Canu thought back on the dream he had just had. Was that a vision or a dream? Visions are true and real. That felt quite real…

His thoughts shifted back to Eshna.

“I must go to the slave auction tomorrow. I will buy back the Floweress and take her with me to her land to be healed.”

“You mean to go north?” asked Emonu.

“Yes, Emonu. Besides, were you not listening when that old man stopped us yesterday. He said I could find my family there—across the land bridge and to the south.”

Emonu was shaking his head. “That’s a death sentence—travelling south. To cross all that way past these lawless lands of Terragar and Bargetar, and then past the mountains of the giants, and then to furthermore cross the land bridge. And who knows what is waiting for you when you cross that bridge. I’ll tell you this much, southerners do not welcome us uncivilized folk into their fertile lands. That much is known.”

“Then stay behind. I will go,” said Canu. “I’m taking the Floweress with me. I have long had a desire to find my true home. To find my real family.” He winced at the pain once more.

Mota walked up to Canu with bandage and wrap to close the wound.

“Besides, what have I got to lose? I lost the clan to Sigeric. There is nothing here for me anymore,” said Canu.

“Oh, come on, Canu. You could be dead and yet you are alive. That is a gift!” said Emonu. His stocky frame covered the door of the cluttered hut.

“I did die,” said Canu absent-mindedly. His stare was far-off. Emonu waved his hands, trying to snap him out of it.

“I died as well, but here I am,” said Emonu. “Hey. Hey, Canu!”

“What?” snapped Canu. He sighed, then apologized. “I’m sorry, Emonu. But I do mean to get out of here. I need to get the Floweress back, however. She’s knows the way to the northern kingdoms. And she knows the one who can heal me permanently.”

“I suppose there is a way you can get her back without stealing her,” said Emonu.

“Hire a bounty hunter,” suggested Mota. Canu scoffed at that. Mota was not one to suggest such things. Emonu couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Stick to your potions over there,” said Emonu.

“You do forget that I am from the land which you are seeking,” said Mota. “I came here during the Five Years’ war to escape the chaos.”

“I often forget,” said Canu. Emonu echoed agreement. “You will come with me then?” asked Canu.

“No, no. My place is here. I am too old for adventure,” said Mota with a smile spread across his face. “Here,” he gestured. “Take this as you go. It is for the pain.”

“Thank you Mota,” said Canu. He grabbed a thick vine of green and purple weeds which were meant for the pain.

“I’ll return home to rest tonight,” said Canu. He pushed his messy hair out of his face. It had grown tangled and wild in recent weeks. “I suppose I already have a bit of a plan for tomorrow. And it does not involve rest, much to your annoyance I am sure, Mota.”

“Indeed. I better not find you back here again. And it better not be with another dead man. There are only so many people that the Floweress can revive before she will use all of her own life up,” said Mota. Canu nodded, doubting his words could be trusted. Mota could say things without truly knowing sometimes. This sounded like one of those made-up times.

Emonu opened the door, letting a gust of fresh wind in through the hut. Canu slowly made his way hunched over to the door.

Mota quickly put a staff in his hand as a walking stick. Canu straightened out slightly with the help of the stick. “Thank you,” whispered Canu. Mota gave a curt nod. He watched the two men leave like a proud father.

When the two arrived at Canu’s home, Emonu started a roaring fire in the fireplace and busied himself roasting a squirrel over the fire that had been killed nearly a week ago. It reeked horribly but it was the only food on hand. Canu laid on his side by the fire, one hand over his chest where the sword had killed him.

A panic ran through Canu, remembering the Dreamstone. Had he left it?

His hand quickly found the calming feeling of the smooth stone under his thumb, tucked away in his cloak pocket. The cloak was brown and crusty, given to him by Mota. He turned the stone in his hand, examining it.

“Have you heard of the Ena Caves?” asked Canu as he eyed the Dreamstone wearily.

“Of course, I have. I mean, most likely fables I would imagine. But yes, who hasn’t?” replied Emonu.

“I can assure you, that place is real.” Canu’s voice had grown serious.

“What makes you so sure all of a sudden?” asked Emonu. He turned the squirrel in slow circles over the fire to make sure it was cooked on all sides.

“I was there. When I died.”

Emonu chuckled. “And?”

“They sent the High Queen. Here. For me.”

“They sent the High Queen…” Emonu repeated the words slowly, digesting each word with hesitation. “She was sent for you? Where did you hear that?”

“I was there, Emonu. I saw it,” said Canu.

“How?”

Canu withdrew the Dreamstone from under his cloak, holding it out in front of him so that it glimmered slightly in the fire’s light.

“With this.”