[font=Lucida Console]The Path of Dreams, part I: Seeds Sown
808 A.S.
The Advisor felt something. A change, though not of this plane. A change in the shape of things to come. In the vast lands of possibility, a Dreamer had touched on something important; though it was unlikely they knew. Curious, the Advisor traced what it could and eventually came upon the trail of the Dreamer responsible- though not before some time had elapsed. Time meant little to the Dreamers, and there was much for the Advisor to pass through to reach the present.
The Advisor sifted through the images like a panner in a river, searching for what could cause the change.
transport... gift...
A ship lay before the Advisor as though he was physically there- in a way, he was, as the Dreamer had touched it with its presence. It bore the marks of the Outcasts, and was currently maintaining orbit outside the planet called "Olympus".
The ship's manifest appeared to the Advisor, revealing significant quantities of the grasses that shackled the Outcasts to their home.
life-code... refining... gift...
The Advisor noted that not all of the substance was in its raw form. With the assistance of the Dreamer, several Outcasts were putting it through a process to transmute it to its liquid form, though they likely understood nothing of the Dreamer's contribution. The Outcasts appeared to not even to understand why they were there in the first place, and instead simply followed the instructions given by the Dreamer.
intrusion...
The Advisor's vision was violently flung out of the ship and toward an incoming group of fighters. They flew the familiar vessels of the Order, and did not hail the transport before opening fire.
protect gift... must be kept safe...
The Dreamer was using its own energy to reinforce the lab where the liquid was being manufactured, keeping the weapons fire from destroying it outright. The Advisor watched as the fighters disabled first the transport's shields, its engines, and then its weapons. One of them latched onto the ship, and before long had created a stable breach for boarding.
life-code... spark of life...
The Advisor could no longer follow the Dreamer's thoughts accurately. They were frantic, as though something was terribly wrong. Pulling back to oversee the status of the Dreamer would require withdrawing from the memory as it formed, and the Advisor felt that the change was near to this time. Something told the Advisor that he should wait and watch, and the Advisor did not resist the impulse.
spark... face of things to come...
The Dreamer's energy was now focused in two locations- the lab and the Order woman approaching it. The Advisor's vision focused first on the lab, where the Outcasts lie dead. The ship had shaken too violently, and had broken some of the containers for the liquid. It was then turned toward the woman- and the Advisor realized what the Dreamer meant by "spark". The woman, Bretonian by her looks, had the first stages of child forming within her.
unite... life-code... life-seed...
The Advisor felt that the change it had sensed was close at hand, but when he tried to search the Dreamer's thoughts for why it was acting as it was, they were mostly veiled. Looking outward, the Advisor saw why- the Dreamer's energy link to the multitude was weakening and within moments would break entirely.
sacrifice... grant... dreams... destiny...
The Advisor's vision abruptly and violently returned to the mindnode. For what seemed like an eternity it could see only vague images, but the change it had felt resided no longer in possibility. When the Advisor finished recovering from the shock, something was different- a faint piece of himself appeared to be missing. Though he could not express it in a way the multitude would understand, the other Advisors felt it too- something important had just happened, and they poured over his recollection of the events many times.
The multitude had sent ships to the area, but found only the broken wreckage of the transport and the faint traces of energy manipulation characteristic of Dreamers. Of the Dreamer itself, nothing was to be found- the body it had called "home" before its ascension lie dead in the halls of the mindnode, and its mind could not be located within the multitude.
Though the Advisors knew not what had transpired, they had a name- the Advisor had pulled it from the woman's mind before his connection was severed. Word was sent to the multitude...
Victoria White shall not come to harm. Watch her, for within her is the shape of things to come.
[font=Lucida Console]The Path of Dreams, part 2: Nightmares
808 A.S.
Emptiness. There was nothing. She was falling, falling faster and faster... she could feel her heart pounding. There were clouds now, whizzing past at impossible speeds. Off in the distance there were other things too- perhaps asteroids? but they went by too fast for her to focus on. Her heart sounded like a heavy drum within her chest, faster and faster. She stopped falling abruptly, and saw before her something that can only be described as a collection of energy taking shape. It reached out towards her, and she recoiled- her heart did not pound now, it was beating too quickly for that. A tendril of energy moved closer, and could almost touch her. She screamed, and was falling back the way she came- but blackness overtook the clouds within a moment.
"Vicky! It's all right! I'm here! It's all right!"
She stopped screaming, and let the man beside her hold her. The panic slowly resided, and she began to cry... when she finally opened her eyes again, everything was as it should be. Lamp on the bedside table. Wardrobe half open, showing dresses that might never see the light of day again. Window to the icy catacombs of Toledo, glimmering serenely in the glow of the few lights still on. Martin by her side, comforting her.
"The same one again?"
Victoria nodded her head slowly.
"That's the fourth time in as many days. This isn't natural... I can hardly take watching this happen, I can't imagine what you must be feeling."
Rather than speak, Vicky just tucked herself tighter into Martin's arms. When she moved, she felt something on her hands, and looked down- she had grabbed hold of him tightly enough to draw blood. Still unable to make a sound, she looked up at him.
"Don't worry about that. It'll heal. We need to make sure you do too... c'mon. When you're up to it, let's head over to the doc."
"So what now."
"I have no idea."
"Me either."
The couple sat together on a bench in the medical rooms. Every few minutes Martin would open his mouth as if to speak, but no words would come from him. Victoria hardly even moved.
An hour passed.
Victoria composed herself, and began to speak slowly. Her gaze did not move from the small potted shrub she had been staring at.
"I'm going back to Bretonia."
"Are you sure?"
"This is hell. It's a hell we endure for the sake of humanity... but it is hell nonetheless."
"That's never been an issue before. We knew what we were getting into. Besides, it isn't all bad... we have each other, right?"
"I know, I know... it's just..."
Victoria let out a long sigh, trying to delay her next few words as long as possible.
[font=Lucida Console]The Path of Dreams, part 3: Innocence
813 A.S.
Sturdy. A building in Leeds, clean by local standards. Few ornaments broke up the homogeneous steel; no life was here save what was rooted by force. The far side split into offices, cold but solid. At the entrance, the boy and his mother walked through. The mother shepherded him to a set of chairs, cold and strong like everything else.
"Alright, are you going to be a good boy and stay put while mommy does a few errands?"
"Yes mum."
"Good. Here's a pen and some paper to keep yourself occupied with. Oh, my, there he is already... Mr. Kavanov!"
The boy watched his mother chase after some man clad in business attire until she left his vision, then turned to the paper. He stared at it for only a few seconds before he began to scribble at it with great gusto.
he is here
That kid, over there?
yes
That's supposed to be "the shape of things to come"? The four-year-old that's practically drooling over his little doodle?
yes
Anyone else up there find this a little odd?
yes
Right... so what am I supposed to do? Just hover around this little kid like some kind of pedophile?
yes
Brilliant. What's next on the grand plan for Sirius domination, taking candy from babies? Perhaps setting up shop in mum's basement? Or howabout spending hours and hours reading and writing text for some neuralnet game where you pretend to have a spaceship?
...
Alright, whatever, I'll do it... you know I hate it when you just agree with me, though, don't you?
yes
Why did I even ask...
Minutes later, the boy stopped drawing. Without removing his gaze from his creation, he began to speak.
"You don't need to pretend."
A man sitting at a nearby table looked up from his newspaper and turned toward the boy.
"Are you talking to me?"
"No. To your angel."
"Excuse me?"
"You carry the light within you. It protects you, and guides you."
A look of surprise came across the man's face. He was silent for a few moments, then composed himself as though trying to convince himself of something.
"You can't have possibly known that."
"Why not?"
"That's... nobody can do that."
"You can, can't you?"
"Well yes but-"
"Mum will be back soon."
"Huh?"
The boy tore off the top page of paper from the pad, and handed it to the man he had just utterly confused. Then he started putting random marks and loops on the page below, muttering something beneath his breath.
Alright, should be clear. Let's see what "the shape of things to come" gave us...
The man stared at the page for a few seconds, then gave out an audible "ha" and smiled.
Just gibberish. Nothing to worry about, right?
no
Good for a seco- did you just tell me "no"?
The man's eyes began to glow a soft bluish purple, and his vision highlighted several strokes on the page.
Tell me this isn't real. That isn't- there's no way- he-
The page contained a message, written in a script only the best minds of xenoarchaeology could decipher, let alone write with.
"Tell father hello"
Okay. Not your average babysitting job. How the bloody hell can he do that? Did you expect something like that?
no
Well then why did we come here... kid probably doesn't make that kind of stuff every couple of hours. He looked drained when he handed me that. If you didn't expect that, why did we come here?
no
The return type on a "why" question is supposed to be an explanation. Unless... wait... did someone else expect this?