In the spectral fog of Somnium, Aurelia's spirit materialized. Ghostly impressions of Polar Sound manifested around her, ethereal waterfalls cascading into misty pools, craggy cliffs stretching onward toward an invisible horizon, the dormant tundra spreading beneath her lightless paws. The vibrancy of the world she once knew was replaced with fleeting whispers of color and life; an echo of reality. Yet even in her new form—a shimmering mix of silvers, greys, charcoal and off blacks, with patches that recalled the aurora borealis—she was still recognizably Aurelia.

While she still very much despised Absinth, she was grateful that she had taken on her own puppies to raise, and seemed to have done so without any resentment. It didn’t stop the overwhelming jealousy she felt for her- that Absinth was there when they opened their eyes. When they took their first steps. When they spoke their first words. Observing them as they playfully tumbled and nipped at one another in her absence was actually worse than death itself. As they went about their lives- all without her. She yearned to muzzle them beyond a dream, to feel them beneath her paws. To correct their postures and tell them when they’ve gone too far in their scuffles. But now, all she had left were these shared dreams. These fleeting moments of stolen peace. And she would certainly take them.

When they awoke to her- awoke in Somnium- she established them in what had been her healer's den. Curled around them like she longed to be in life, letting their dream selves cuddle into her flank. As they began to stir, she gently nuzzled each of them- the sensation more of a memory for her than a touch. But she hoped it was more vibrant for them. As real as she could make it.

"Aurelia Veratti"

Ravana stirred in the spectral fog, her dream-self slowly waking to the familiar yet ethereal embrace of Somnium. The world around her was a blend of haunting beauty and wistful memory not of her own creation, the Polar Sound rendered in ghostly hues and fleeting impressions. She felt the presence of her dream-mother, Aurelia, before she saw her, the familiar scent of lavender and moss faint but distinct in the otherworldly air. But she had seen the azure beauty in her dreams, all her life.

Opening her eyes, Ravana saw Aurelia's shimmering form, the grays and blues, the piercing blue eyes. Her heart ached with longing, the pain of their separation always a raw wound, even in this dreamscape. But she did not know why. She felt the ghostly nuzzle, the tender touch that was more memory than reality, and leaned into it, craving the closeness she had been denied in life.

“Mama?” Ravana murmured, her voice soft but filled with intensity beyond her youth.

She shifted, nestling closer to Aurelia's flank, the warmth of the dream a fragile comfort against the cold reality of their separation. “Why can’t you be like mother? Why can I only meet you in my dreams?”


ravana

For most of the night, Zagan was consumed by dreamless sleep, his mind drifting into a tranquil abyss devoid of sensation and images. It was like his consciousness was on pause, his body recharging and rejuvenating, and yet, subconsciously his heart ached for the presence of vivid landscapes and narratives. Of his Mother who visited him in his dreams. But as the night progressed, images started to appear in Zagan’s mind, slowly and methodically- ghostly impressions of The Polar Sound manifesting around him, with a notable lack of realism that debuted his crossing over into Somnium.

Warmth, although fleeting and surreal, seemed to envelop him. His mother’s faintly familiar scent teased his senses, beaconing him into her embrace. His eyes open, focusing on charcoal and azure hues, a ghostly nuzzle showering him in motherly affection. Ravana was there too, Zagan could hear her voice- and a sharp, painful streak of jealousy rushed through him.

Pressing closer into Aurelia’s flank, Zagan answers his sister. “Because Father… The Sultan, sent her here.” He says, merely stating facts. Painful facts. “He… He has your skin, Mama. I saw it on him.” A grotesque observation, but Zagan felt it was important to tell Aurelia about it. “I don’t like it but,” He nuzzles harder into her. “At least I can see you when I’m awake.” A small sigh, and he falls silent. He just can’t understand just how grotesque Sephiran is- his young mind won’t allow it.

"Speech"