Desreal: silent shadows that hypnotize ;

There was dreaming. Dreaming that were not hers, but potent enough that she could feel them across the dunes and the forests and the mountains. She saw nothing, heard nothing, but she knew that someone would be calling for her.

So she waited.

The dunes shifted under her as the twilight turned to dawn. The skies bled that morning, and Hypatia’s fire made them bleed more. The diadem was a protection now, against something, something that she didn’t know what to expect. Her body is still, and though her mind weaves through those of her people, her eyes traverse the length of the entrance to her desert. A moan comes from the wind, and she does not understand it. Briefly, she wishes she could fly. But then she would be like him – and she did not want to be that.

A wolf lopes towards her quickly, made of ice and wind and voices. It seems to fly over the dunes rather than over them. The Naphtha, made of fire and water, did not move until it stood before her, quick and alert and icy.

She calls for you. The wolf said with the wind’s voice. Go to her.

The wolf vanishes back to where it came from before Hypatia nods. Sighing, she wonders what exactly this was about. The Elementals had not warned her about this, but then again, when did the Elementals help her at all?

The dunes turn into hard ground again, and the Naphtha feels uneasy on such solid footing. Scarcity turns into an overabundance of trees. The wolf appears again and motions for her to continue, to follow it. Hypatia, naively, does.

She sees ice and wind and fire and earth and answers with fire and water.

“You called?”