The portal shimmered behind the old man as he passed through. He looked to either side, seeing no one around. Why would there be? The land around him was dark and desolate, and the structure in front of him lie silent and brooding. As a child, he'd heard of this place. As a dreamer, he'd visited it, though he knew it was not the place he'd once heard of.

 

The house of the Keepers of the Eternal Shadow lie before him. It's obsidian edifice rising from the ash-colored ground. Elsewhere in the dream, the idea of All-Hallow's Eve being a time for fun, parties, and gathering was being proliferated. Romile had no need for their joy, their jubilation. For him, this day signified something far different.

 

He thought back to his youth. Back when Dreamers were honored, instead of reviled. He remembered the Dreamer who used to seduce him with stories. Spaeren had been much like Romile. Both found the dream later in life, both sought only to learn as much as they can, and share their knowledge with any who would listen. Romile sighed, as he remembered the days when those on Grenydike, his shard, would listen.

 

As he sat, thinking, he heard the Portal behind him chime, and turned to greet his visitor. "Greetings, Aikadon. How fare you this dream?"

 

"Well, Master Romile. There are many dreamers gathering back in Threshold, and the Gathering has their party planned for this evening. I was wondering why you were here? I thought you never cared for the Keepers?"

 

"From what little knowledge I have of the old Keepers, yes, I never cared much for them. I've told you of my former mentor, did I not?"

 

"Spaeren?"

 

"Yes. Did I ever tell you how he died?"

 

"No, I don't believe you did," Aikadon replies after a moment thought.

 

"At the end of what I termed the Second Age of Underlight, we know that Dreamers began to be hated for the knowledge they brought. Back on Grenydike, this began earlier than it did on other Shards, I believe, though it is hard to quantify.

 

"Spaeren had been dreaming for a few months, bringing back countless stories that enthralled us, knowledge that stood the enrich our lives. They spread like wildfire through the people of our shard. They caused conflicts, strife, as Grendykians argued over philosopies they'd never before known, that had been thrust upon them.

 

"Eventually, all the tension that was growing became directed at Spaeren. They hated him for being the vector that destroyed their world, as they saw it. He was given a trial, on this day, all those years ago. The trial didn't mean much, however. They found him guilty of treason. Treason! On a shard of less than a thousand, with no real government nor enemies," Romile says his voice heating up.

 

"For his crimes they burned him. I've heard tell of other people doing this to those they called 'witches', it seems an appropriate description of what happened to my mentor, and my friend."

 

"I suppose I understand why you don't wish to celebrate, but I still don't understand why you are here," Aikadon responds quietly.

 

"This place seemed to fit my mood. Dark, sullen, brooding. The Keepers of the Eternal Shadow were the only dreamers in the Second Age to actively protect the Nightmares. I'm not sure I can trust the other stories. They seem to have been tainted by the dislike of the Keepers." Their discussion continued for a while. The broken history of a broken house in a broken dream.

 

As they talk, a light hum which had prevaded the area begins to grow. A deeper darkness had fallen over the House as the clock approached midnight. As the Witching Hour rolled in, the hum jumped in intensity, and a flash of light drew their attention to the middle of the room. A new portal opened, floating in the still air.

 

Shocked by the sudden appearance of the Portal, the pair looked at each other. "Well, now, this was unexpected," Romile says quietly to his companion.

 

"Let's go, take a look," Aikadon says as he moves toward the portal and steps through.

 

"Ah, the rashness of youth," Romile says as he stands, groaning slightly. He too moves to the portal and steps through. As the new room comes into focus, Romile sees Aikadon standing in the room, silent staring. The room is dark, with torches lining the walls in even intervals. The room is filled with shadowy figures. Some look like dreamers, some like nightmares.

 

Aikadon, in a moment of panic, evokes his Flamesear at one of the 'mares. Romile reached out to stop him, but was too late, the ball of flame flying across the room, and to the surprise of Romile, through the assembled. Everything stops, as the people in the room, turn to view the pair who entered.

 

"I wouldn't waste the essence, visitor. You'll not accomplish anything," a deep, sonorous voice echoes through the room, coming from one of the dreamer shapes.

 

"Sir, what is this place?" Romile asked, awestruck. The figure appears to look around the room.

 

"A shadow. Just as we," it says, slightly amused. Romile and Aikadon share a confused look before the figure continues. "There were those who believed it may be possible to live solely in the dream, if they didn't have their body to deal with. Turns out, just as the body can't exist without the soul, neither can the soul without the body. Not really, at least."

 

"You mean to tell us you're the ghosts of former dreamers?" Aikadon asks, disbelief dripping from his voice.

 

"Ghosts? As good a term as any," one of the 'mares says in Dreamer. "Of course, most of you treat us like we're souless ghosts anyway," it hisses.

 

"Calm yourself, Teatsu. These two are no threat."

 

"Forgive us. We've never heard a Nightmare speak in the toungue of Dreamers."

 

"Have you ever cared to listen?" Teatsu spat back. "You're kind views us as vile, disgusting things. We were born from you. We are you."

 

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Romile asks, stammerring slightly.

 

"All your hatred. All your anger. All your jealousy. All your rage. All your fear. Those are the Nightmares you fight. There is so much of this among your people, we were born." Teatsu begins to laugh. A dry, hollow, scratching sound. "And as you fight us you only breed more. Your people are so foolish. We may not all be intelligent, but we know more than you people think."

 

Romile turns his eyes to the ground, somehow feeling shamed by the accusations of the shade before him. Aikadon begins to open his mouth the rebutt the 'mare, but Romile puts his hand on his shoulder. "No, young one. There may be truth to what he says. Even if there is not, what can come from arguing with the dead?"

 

With that admission, the gathering seemed to continue as it had been. Shades mingling with the two live dreamers. Dreamer and Darkmare mingling together. Romile and Aikadon move through the assemblage. Talking, listening, learning. As the hour passes, things begin to fade away. The first dreamer-shade who spoke turns to the pair. "It seems you're only allowed here during the Witching Hour. It was good to see you again, Romile. I'm glad to see you found the dream," the figure says as it the entire room fades away.

 

The entryway of the Keepers of the Eternal Shadow fades back into view. Romile and Aikadon find themselves lying on the ground. Romile hears a groan as Aikadon begins to rise. "What happened?"

 

"Like a dream within a dream," Romile mumbles, as he also rises. "I only wish it could have laster longer," the old man smiles. "What do you say we see if the Gathering is still having their party?" Romile asks as he steps through the portal.

 

Aikadon shakes his head the fog from his head before stepping through the portal behind his friend. Neither would speak of that night to another that night. After all, who would believe that anyone had spoken with the dead?

Raitan looked over the young dreamers sitting around him in a half circle. He couldn’t help but grin slyly as he watched their big eyes full of expectation. The old Master Fatesender’s tales were known to rival the nightmares themselves. The fireplace gleamed faintly in the middle of the darkness of the Evernight Plateau. The experienced old man had picked the perfect scenery for his story this Halloween night.

 

"So, the young Gatekeeper couple Erran and Annett were joined in matrimony here in the old woods of Evernight. The ceremony was attended by most of their friends and a lot of guests from all over the dream. It was truly a wonderful event. I think it is the only wedding to ever be performed on Halloween night. It was so romantic” He smiled as if he spoke of a fond old memory.

 

One of the kids looked a bit disappointed “I thought you were going to tell us a scary story, not a love story, Master Raitan."

 

The aged dreamer chuckled gently and looked at the kid as the wrinkles around his eyes showed off an amused yet kind expression “patience lad, the good part is yet to come."

 

"As soon as the last guests had left, the happy couple left to spend some time on their own. However, even when their hearts and thoughts were focused on eachother, they couldn’t help but notice that something was wrong that night.”

 

Raitan’s eyes moved slowly from one child to the next.

 

"Hand in hand they walked deeper into the woods, not too far from where we are sitting tonight actually, when some strange sounds had them alarmed. Tree branches swayed softly in the wind as usual, but this night the movements seemed unnatural and suspicious.”

 

The gathered young dreamers all gazed straight at old Ratian as he spoke and waved his arms around to make the story come to life for his listeners.

 

"The two looked around uneasily, and suddenly Erran heard the sound of a twig snapping in between the trees. He jumped back in surprise then looked closer, but could see nothing but a couple branches moving differently than the rest. Annet’s voice quivered as she looked at her husband “what..what was that Erran?” “I don’t know love...I thought I heard something. Maybe it was just the wind?"

 

Raitan paused in the middle of the story and looked around with a slight frown “Did you hear something, kids?” A few of them shook their heads in reply, then quickly turned their heads as they heard a snapping sound in the distance. They gasped and ran into Raitan’s arms in fear. “Now now , I am sure it was just my old ears playing tricks on me, back to your seats”

 

The young dreamers reluctantly returned to their seats with lumps in their throats but did their best to refocus on Raitan.

 

“So the young couple continued to walk on slowly, carefully glancing around. They both felt as if something was watching their every move. Then with no warning at all, Erran felt an ice cold hand on his shoulder. He turned around and swung his blade but hit nothing but thin air. He felt a thug on his hand and swung back, barely stopping his blade an inch from Annett. Just as he was opening his mouth to apologise, she begged him to lead them out of there”

 

“The couple started running up Evernight, a heaving breath right behind them, and pacing footsteps chasing their every move. Erran lead his wife through a portal, put a binding on it then followed through himself. He started off into the next room and glanced over his shoulder, only to see a blur of something squeezing through the portal without pause.”

 

 

“They ran for their lives without turning back. They ran ‘til they couldn’t take it anymore and finally halted on each side of a flame jar, feeling a bit more comfortable in the dim light. All was quiet when the two gazed back uneasily, before letting out breaths of relief as they sat down to rest. They looked across the fire at eachother and smiled happily now that they were both safe.

 

The children gathered lowered their shoulders as the suspense of the story came to a halt. Raitan smiled mischievously as he watched them, then carried on.

 

“All of a sudden the gleam of the fire revealed the outline of a humanoid otherwise invisible. Out of nowhere their dreamsoul was reduced to nothing, before they were promptly stricken from the dream!”

 

Raitan gazed at the small crowd of young dreamers momentarily “And they were never seen again”

 

One of the young girls looked at the old man then asked with a thin, anxious voice “Master Raitan? There is no such creature in the dream…..is there?”

 

“I have never seen one myself, little girl. Rumour has it that it only appears once a year”

 

“When...when is that, Master?”

 

He hushed the girl, then whispered silently “..Halloween night”

 

Just as Raitan had spoken these words, the fireplace lit up and the flock of kids stared right at it. They could all clearly see the contour of a manlike yet otherwise invisible being and laughter rolled across the room. The kids screamed in unison and scattered in all directions.

 

As soon as the kids were out of sight and the screaming muted, the old Master Sender leaned back and laughed hollowly. Slowly the outline of the invisible being caught colour and form and changed into a male in his early 20s. He shook his head as he looked at Raitan.

 

“I have no idea how you convinced me to scare young kids like that, Master”

 

Raitan smiled comfortingly as he stilled his laughter.

 

“That’s just something you have to cope with when you’re a Dreamseer apprentice to an old trickster like me, son.”

 

The apprentice smirked as he looked upon his master, then sat down next to him. Raitan put his arm around his apprentice and smiled.

 

“From this they will learn not to believe everything they hear and much less what they see”

 

Before the apprentice had time to breathe they both abruptly turned their heads as they heard a snap in the nearby trees. A deep dark voice thundered at them from all directions at once.

"And that on Halloween night, stories told become true”

Our very own Golah really liked our first nightmare image, even before he saw the modeled mare. Check out this tattoo he'll be getting of our mare Bhegwir!

Eraethil (Rae) Caithream is a poet and singer, a woodcarver and potter, a

farmer and herdsman, a dancer and lover, and a tracker and guide.

But he is a master of none of these; his true avocation is dreamer.

 

Born of Jearnin and Chardia, humble farming folk of the Vale of Laberat, he

grew up a third parent to his six siblings. A direct result of the parental

duties of the eldest of seven, his amazing bedtime stories were the first

sign of his extraordinary imagination. More recently, his singing, dancing,

and showmanship have delivered him a reasonable living, surprisingly

unfettered by the mundanity of his simple upbringing. But then, his

upbringing was punctuated by some less than mundane events.

 

At the tender age of 17 Rae became renowned as the only man to return from

the boundary mist, and remarkably, with his twin youngest brothers in tow.

Jearard and Charmin still relate how Rae found them and then wove the story

of their return through the mist while they wandered, only to conclude the

story as the mists parted and the fields of the valley became visible once

more.

 

It is widely assumed to be a tall tale. After all, the mist is as surely

impassable as a stone wall . . . but the intensity of the wide eyed twins in

their telling has convinced more than a few, and the retellings of their

listeners have solidified the story into history. When directly asked about

the truth of the tale, Rae will generally cede responsibility to his

brothers. "Do you accuse my brothers of lying? Or perhaps of mistaking a

walk for an adventure beyond the boundary mist? Or do you secretly wish you

had experienced what they have?" he'll say with a wink. This story, now

titled Wander's End, became Rae's first song.

 

The inn keeps of the Vale all marvel at the simple red-haired farming lad,

whose only truly remarkable feature is his twinkling green eyes. On first

sight he is an average, healthy young man, of middling height, with simple

good looks, a comfortable smile, shoulder length hair, and skin well tanned

from years of work on the farm. But the promise inherent in those bright

green eyes belies the apparent naivety, and when he opens his mouth to sing

the first notes of Wander's End, the twinkling confidence of his eyes bursts

outward to radiate the courage embodied by the song's unnamed hero.

 

Of late, Rae's repertoire of songs and stories has grown immeasurably.

His dreams are the fount of this creative outflow. An explorer in his

youth, Rae had quickly disposed of all undiscovered territory encircled by

the boundary mist. This left only the unexplored lands of his imagination.

His stories and songs were the result of these internal wanderings.

 

This midsummer's eve in the satiated drowsy settlement following a

particularly successful evening at Clarahar's Common House, an amazing dream

came to him, or rather, allowed him to come to it. In the few weeks that

followed, he gradually came to believe that his dreams were in fact, very

real.

 

He hadn't shared this startling revelation with anyone yet. Instead he

began to share the stories that he'd been hearing from his fellow dreamers,

though he'd never expected to share a dream. The resulting new songs were

becoming a sensation. They were creating a new reputation for him, these

fantastic "imaginings" of Eraethil Caithream, the Dreamer.