((The start of this storyline takes place around the same time as "From the Sky" and "Another Letter and the Missing Girl."))

Setting a Stage for the Dreamers....

For the past few years, the realm of Oneiro had been travelled on by no one, except the remaining monsters that inhabited it, seeming to feed off the festering and wasted landscape. The monsters ran free through the land, but most of them had retreated to the dwindling forest for food, to feast off whatever skin and bones animal they could find. It was this reason alone that made Sorvynia, Bansca, and Kyrian's trip through Oneiro a seemingly safe one. There was nothing to fight; just the bitter remains of a once flourishing realm turned into a barren sanctuary for demons and monsters alike.

The three of them would pass through the realm untouched and unharmed, but they would not be unnoticed by two groups of people. One of them was a tawny colored fox, tail slightly matted and his physical state rather thin. In his youthful days when he had roamed the thick green grasses and lush forests of Oneiro, he had been stronger than and more handsome. But now as the fox watched Lady Sorvynia pass through making her way towards the harbor, he was but a mere shadow, hidden beneath a pile of debris in the city of StarFae. He could not mistake the familiar raven colored wings of the dreamer. After all, they reminded him of his mother and father, Selune and Solarte.

With a thoughtful, "Hmm," the fox soon wandered off as Sorvynia and the others wandered into the Outer Gate of Aleris, steering clear of the once safe forests and keeping his figure low to the ground. Perhaps there was some hope in seeing the three that had journeyed by.

The second to notice the Sorvynia's party were more elated at the news. Word of Sorvynia Dreamer and her grandson rode on the pounding footfalls of a smoke colored horse heading towards Snowside, the looming gray mountains of the north. Since the fall of Oneiro, Snowside had taken on a more harsh climate and snow laid thick across the Abre`Verte Fields. The rider was used to the demands of rushing back and forth through the weather and so trudged on until he at least reached an opening high up in the mountains.

The rider dismounted at a temple which had previously housed believers of the Goddess Selune. Anything that had been built in Selune's honor had been desecrated and made a mockery of; her statue was turned over onto the mountain pathway, the face chipped at and broken. The grand temple had been turned into a fortress for the people who still ruled over this land.

The rider stepped past the grand, oak doorways and headed towards the end of the temple. There a crude stone staircase had been forged, descending into depths that were not in Selune's temple before. The staircase led down into the mountains; at first the hallway was thin and the rider had to push his shoulders together to avoid the burn of dimly flickering lanterns. The pathway started to widen and the sound of scraping metal and groaning beasts could be heard not far off in the depths of the cavernous mountain.

At the end of the hall, there was a set of doors where two guards remained stationed. A short exchange of words were tossed about between the three. At the rider's words, the guards seemed delighted and knocked twice on the door before hearing a sort of humble voice in the chamber beyond. The rider nodded and stepped forward with permission, entering into the bedroom. The doors closed behind the rider and he looked into the darkness of the room.

The room was lit only by a lone candle, but the rider could still make out the ghostly, milk white skin of two thin human figures entwined together with bed sheets. Male and female, the couple laid there naked among the silk sheets looking beautiful and youthful in comparison to the otherwise dreary compounds of the temple. It was the male who rose first, sliding away from the woman who pressed against him and gracefully swung his legs over the bed. Standing, the man dressed in an ebony robe and tied the front as he walked to the rider. The couple both had waist length white hair and delicate features making up their builds. They looked mostly human except for a few noticeable differences; the alien-like pale skin and a line of shimmering pearly dragon scales that lined the forearm, inner thighs and across the cheekbones.

"I bring great news," the rider started. "I have witnessed with my very own eyes-"

"A dream," the pale man said holding up a hand adorned with long fingernails. His feet seemed to glide rather than walk across the plush carpet of the room and he came to stand before the rider. "We have all awakened from a dream. Not just myself, but my sister and other siblings as well. It seems like it was a lifetime of waiting since we last watched the fallen king, Verial Akilara, waste himself away by plunging off that waterfall. We have not felt this strong in such a long time, not since this hour."

The rider said nothing and kept his face written without any hint of satisfaction or distaste. It was difficult to say how the white haired man would react to the rider's expression. As the rider stood still still, the pale man circled around the rider studying him like a predator sizing his prey with watchful crimson eyes. Behind him, the rider saw the nude woman stir momentarily, turning over onto her back still asleep, bare breasts now exposed. She did not awaken or seem at all interested in the conversation at hand.


"I have felt the breath of the young prince riding through Oneiro with one of his kin. This can only be favorable for us. You see, the blonde hair woman does not speak much now, but with this, she may be more convinced to have a lengthy conversation. And," the pale man continued holding both of his palms to his chest, breathing in a deep contented sigh that made a thin smile curl across his lips, "I believe the fallen king will be more partial to biting onto our bait now."

"There was someone else with them," the rider replied. "An elf? Though he did not seem from Oneiro."

"Hm, well keep an eye on him if you must, but it should be no trouble," the pale man said dropping his arms to his sides. "Now then, I am anxious to see my golden haired beauty again."

Together the rider walked out with his leader, both turning the hallway and heading down another flight of stairs. Sounds of dripping water could be heard from somewhere and in these reaches of the mountain fortress, a more musty odor had grown. However, it was not just the smell of mildew and decay, but the stench of dried and fresh blood or of human skin rotting. It was evident that the dungeons they finally reached were not kept sanitary for any reasons, not even for former Chancellor of StarFae, Calamaya Everness.

The door to her prison cell was opened by another guard and together the pale man and rider walked in. In these cells, it was much colder, the winter air of Snowside cruel and unrelenting as it blew through the cracks of the mountain. Despite her shivering, having been taken in a now dirty and frayed nightgown, the pale man seemed to not care much at all that he was possibly delivering her to death. Against the edge of the wall, Calamaya was held prisoner, arms slung above her head with her wrists in shackles against the wall. In addition to these shackles, a type of collar was wrapped about her neck made from heavy steel. There was something strange about it though, not the typical slave type collar. In this one, Calamaya would not find herself to be able to use any form of magic or any telepathic communication.

Walking towards the wall where Calamaya seemed to either be sleeping or too weak to move, the pale man knelt next to her on the rough, stone ground. From the door the rider watched as the man slipped a slender finger underneath Calamaya's chin, running it across her jaw line, until her head was raised in his palm so that he might see her open closed eyelids. Blonde hair fell languidly from Calamaya's weakened face and a bruise was now exposed, having been issued across one of her cheeks along with many other scratches and wounds that decorated her body. It seemed she had been taken against her will, but she definitely put up a fight in the process.

"Wake up, my lovely Calamaya," the pale man said and his voice, contrary to the pain he had subjected her too, was otherwise calm and soothing. "I would like to finally have a talk with you. We have seen Prince Kyrian and it would be a great help to us if you would explain all you know about our fallen king, Verial Akilara. You see, we thought he had died and we do miss him dearly..."

Post originally by Character_Calamaya


She wished she could sleep. Perhaps then the stench of stale flesh, urine and mold would not overwhelm her constantly. There was no growing accustomed to it. The smell lingered, blanketing her in the dark. Sounds were no better down here in her isolation. There was an occasional creak along the ceiling as if something large was walking on the floor above her. A grown issued forth from the surrounding cells, just often enough to remind her that others were being held as she.

Her body was no longer concealed behind the ratty nightgown. She could vaguely remember slipping it on. Her skin had smelled of lilac, she had purposely chosen the fragranced soap in hope that when Verial came to check on her later he would notice. The nightgown was delicate, chosen to hint at the womanly curves underneath but not reveal the secret it concealed completely. It was all just to see that faint glint in Verial’s eyes, which he constantly tried to hide.

Yet suspended from the wall now, that all seemed years and years ago. Another life time.

When the pale, naked man placed his hand against her face, she was surprised. She was so out of it that she had not even realized that they were approaching. Even when he tilts her head back, she cannot even find the will to open her eyes. Nor can she brace herself for the blows she expects to come. That soothing voice had meant nothing but pain for her. When she had been dragged back into Oneiro, the demons had taken their turns grabbing at her and her clothing. The had abused her legs, arms, breasts and face.

The Pale man had been no different. He had struck her across the face sharply. “You were one of the main reasons he resisted us as he did. Your tears tugged at his human heart.” His hand had raised once more. Whatever blow he dealt had rendered her unconscious. When she came to once more, she had found herself bound here in this miserable dungeon.

How long had it been? The concept of time had left her from practically the first slap to her face. How many times could this happen to her and she still cling to the hope that Verial will come charging in on his white horse? Always… she has to berate herself. He will always save her.

Kyrian. Did he just say he had Kyrian?

It was a struggle. So much effort to make those languid lids lift. Silence stretches as her mind slowly processes what the Pale man has asked her. No, he had only seen Kyrian. He had to still be with Sorvynia. Which meant that the Pale man held nothing he could use against her yet. He did not have Verial nor Kyrian. She licks her cracked lips. Her attempts at talking fail the first few times. But the Pale man makes no move to offer her anything to drink. She somehow swallows enough to gain her voice.

“ My answer is the same as before. I will tell you nothing. Nothing.”

I'm on my way...

Whether or not she heard those fated words, Verial would not know. The possibility if his thoughts reaching Calamaya's own were very slim indeed, few and far between. Hope did not dwell in the confines of the dungeon Calamaya was a prisoner of. These damp, stone walls had become a nightmarish home for her the last few days; the memory getting there was horrid and the thoughts and prayers for escape seemed useless.

But still the girl clung tightly to her dreams that Verial would save her. There was no doubt that he was on his way once the message was delivered by Calypso, but it was a difficult thing to wait for especially when someone else was subjecting your mind to questions through torturous methods.

Though she had not opened her eyes, there was a definite change in Calamaya's body when the Pale Man mentioned the words "Prince Kyrian." He only had a hand against her chin, but he felt her body tense for a moment, more nervous than it had been in the last few days. Was the prince another key to a newfound weakness in Calamaya? Perhaps if the Pale Man could not get her to talk soon, they would seek out their second plan. Capturing the boy.

The Pale Man sighed, slightly irritated at her answer. He was willing to believe that she would have cracked by now, but her words confirmed that he had doubted this inner strength she still clung too. What was she hiding about their dearly beloved King of Oneiro? The words she managed to issue from parted lips were bitter for both of them. Calamaya had conjured what strength she could to moisten her lips and give a defiant answer, one that she mostly likely knew would bring her nothing more than trouble. The Pale Man was certainly in control, but this had brought him no closer to answers. She was becoming useless - fast.

"My answer is the same as before. I will tell you nothing. Nothing."

A long finger belonging to the Pale Man glided up and wrapped around a messy tendril of blonde hair. As he swirled it about his finger, the Pale Man's head tilted in minor amusement. Calamaya was suspicious of him and she was right to think he did not have control of the prince or Verial yet. Nevertheless, they were all becoming weaker, the whole family of Dreamers and with due time, the Pale Man was sure Calamaya would crack.

If there was no talking to her and getting answers by mere conversation, the Pale Man would have to use other methods of persuasion again. Once more he asked, his hand lowering from her blonde tresses and moving to tighten onto her chin, the grip enough to leave a bruise.

"You say you will not answer, but you have nothing to lose at this point," the Pale Man began. "As much as you shall wait for your beloved and resist in answering us, we are always able to seek other methods of finding out what we need to know. After all, the prince is much younger than you and certainly," he started looking over her exposed and tainted flesh under the flimsy nightgown, "weaker. And once we have him, we will make sure you can hear his tears."

His hand dropped to where her heart was, resting against the top of her cold breast. Her skin was slightly dampened, mostly from sweat. It was not hot at all in the mountain, but uncertainty and stress could also change a person physically. Calamaya was probably coming down with a strong fever, which was left uncared for. The man felt her fluttering heartbeat against his fingertips and grinned devilishly, showing alabaster colored teeth.

"Your heart beats with the wrong passion. There is no hope to be found here," the Pale Man hissed. "You do not have many choices, Calamaya Everness... assist us or die with your meager and pathetic sobs. Do keep this in mind."

Standing up, the Pale man pushed himself off the soiled ground with a bare knee. His robe fell about his form as he stared down at the once beautiful figure that was previously a girl full of aspirations and desires. There was no light within these walls; only the sounds of metal scraping, loud footsteps, and unearthly screams coming from somewhere within the depths of the Snowside mountains.

As he reached the rider who stood idly by the door the whole time, the Pale Man nodded for them to both make leave of the cell. Stepping outside the dungeon, the two guards eyed them for further instructions. Once soldiers in Oneiro's army, these two guards had been turned into a deformed sort of demon, flesh transformed scale-like and a very dark purple. They were beyond their once human form, turned into powerful beings with sharp shoulder blades jutting from their backs and elongated arms twisted with muscles and more veins than needed.

The Pale Man's chin jutted out in a directive nod towards the dungeon door that Calamaya shivered behind. The demonic guards seemed to understand what was to be done, but waited for the command of their ghostly leader.

"Make her talk at any cost," the Pale Man began, "even if it is to hear her scream for mercy first."

A fanged grin seemed to grow on both of the guards' faces with the order. As the two demons headed through the doorway to descend upon their pray, the rider closed the door behind and turned to face the Pale Man. The rider was about to suggest they retire, but the Pale Man only leaned against the wall with a somewhat satisfied smile.

"You wish not to go?" the rider questioned daringly.

"Not yet," the Pale Man said softly. "The cries of the weak are like music to my ears. My siblings and I will feast off of Calamaya Everness and the pain that consumes her. So delicious..."