The Scenery of Dreams
"It's the beginning of a long, long journey. Everyone should gather and celebrate!"
"Has everyone already arrived?"
"Mm-hmm. The beloved child is the last one. They said it's fine to come slowly."
The rabbit with four ears answered in a bright voice.
If that was true, then Lawrence couldn't afford to dawdle here any longer.
He held out a hand, and the rabbit naturally hopped up onto his shoulder.
"Let's hurry."
"Ahaha. You were worried for nothing. Veles is old, so it's fine if he takes his time. I'm sure he'll drag his feet on the journey too, right?"
All things considered, among the spirits, the rabbit was the one who got along best with the boy.
It always told him he could eat fruit whenever he wanted.
And after that day, it never lied to him or pushed things on him by force.
Pure goodwill.
The boy understood that this was what neighbors of the Spirit World were like.
In that case, there was no need to be wary of them, just as there was no need to be wary of the rabbit.
By the time Lawrence reached the gorge, the area around Veles was packed so tightly there wasn't room to set foot.
It wasn't only spirits gathered here.
In the trees, he could see neighbors dressed like crimson-eyed figures.
But the eyes visible through the fabric were plain black. There was only one of them.
They looked relatively normal by comparison, but their moving sleeves were, as expected, hollow.
There were also small tree-like beings, slow as saplings, gathered in one place.
Whether they too were neighbors of the Spirit World or not, they had taken a place to one side and wound their trunks around one another.
Above them, black cloaks rode on brooms through the sky.
Surely no one was actually wearing those cloaks, and yet in front of them floated ornate masks, carried along as if by invisible hands.
For some reason, it felt as though the eyes behind those masks were looking down at him.
There was nowhere proper to sit.
The rabbit, cruelly enough, had already gone off to join the cluster of smaller neighbors.
He was about to settle in toward the back somewhere when—
Someone kicked Lawrence in the backside.
"Acheron?"
"Don't stand around in back. Come up in front of Veles."
Acheron was giving him a displeased look.
Deep furrows cut across his brow, as if to say, What are you doing in a place like this?
Lawrence had no answer for that.
So he wandered forward with Acheron, helplessly.
Fortunately, there was a seat open.
Right in front of Veles.
"You don't mean for me to sit here, do you?"
"...."
Acheron only gave a snort in reply.
"It seems everyone has gathered...."
As Lawrence sat down, Veles opened his eyes.
Low breaths. A voice without strength.
The ancient dragon, who could sense the end of life drawing near, began his final tale.
"Thank you all for gathering here. Old comrades. I wonder what this frail body has done to deserve such a sendoff before I depart on my journey."
There was a breathless laugh.
"It was a journey without a destination. At times I walked alone. At times I walked with others. Before I knew it, the path we forged had become a road for those who came after us. But the road I walked with you was not the only one. Wandering soul, do not give up. If, at the end of your own road, you look back, you will see that the path you traveled has also become a lantern for someone else."
His breathing grew weaker.
As if it had become difficult to go on speaking, the light in Veles's eyes began to fade.
"Lawrence. Are you there?"
"Yes, yes. I'm here, Veles."
He had not realized it before.
Lawrence discovered that his own voice had caught in his throat.
Something surged up hotly beneath his chin.
"Lawrence. I'm truly glad you came here."
This was probably the last thing Veles would ever say to him.
The moment of parting was already upon them.
"This is the first and last gift I can give you. I hope the guidance of the stars will be with you on the road ahead."
Acheron held out a branch.
He didn't need to say anything. Lawrence understood.
He lowered his head, and the branch came to rest atop his hair.
The difference from usual was the softness of the touch.
At the same time, Acheron's other hand was resting against Veles.
"May your journey be a peaceful one, old friend."
"You trouble yourself for me even at the end."
"An old bond is just such a thing. I will miss you."
"Heh. If you miss me, don't come rushing after me. When the day comes that I can at last surrender myself to the wind, I shall come to see you then."
The voice drifted farther and farther away.
For a moment the world seemed to spin in a circle, and then Lawrence's consciousness dropped into darkness.
* * *
When he opened his eyes, Lawrence was flying through the sky.
A gentle, refreshing wind kept stroking his face.
The shining sun.
Clouds passing by.
Twinkling stars. A faint moon glimmering beyond the vault of heaven.
The scenery seen from the sky held a beauty beyond anything he could compare it to.
How long had he been wandering among the heavens?
He didn't know. He had been adrift up there for so long that he couldn't even remember that much.
And yet he didn't want to stop flying.
This was freedom an ordinary boy without wings should never have been able to know.
Even if this was nothing more than a dream at midday, he had no desire to wake up.
"The world we were born into is truly beautiful, isn't it? It can't be helped that one falls in love just by looking at it."
But no dream lasts forever.
The calm voice woke Lawrence from his daze.
"Veles?"
No matter where he looked, there was no sign of him.
Only the voice gently tapped at the inside of his head.
"It seems you like the view of the sky."
"Yes. This is the first time I've realized just how beautiful the world is."
Beyond his eyes, the endless heavens still stretched on.
If not for Veles, would he have kept staring at it forever?
The thought came to him naturally, so captivating was the world.
"But now it's time for you to set out on the road."
The sky that had seemed to go on without end changed.
The heavens darkened, and across the faint clouds in that blackened sky stretched a trail of silver light.
A silver thread passed through Lawrence.
The sensation he'd felt while flying through the heavens just a moment ago was gone.
"This is...?"
"Don't worry. Nothing in the dream I weave will ever harm you."
"So this was Veles's dream."
"It's a little different from the kind of dream you're thinking of. To us, dreams are collections of memory. Through the gate of the unconscious, we can recreate any memory we wish as a dream."
Then this was a scene Veles had once experienced?
Beneath the dim sky, blackened earth began to bloom into being.
"This is an old memory from long ago. A time when the Spirit World and the Material World were not yet divided. This is a view of the world from what is called the Age of Gods."
The silver path that had embroidered the cloudy sky transformed into a circle.
A circle imitating a giant tree whose beginning and end could not be measured.
Upon that circle woven from silver thread, a woman began an exquisite dance.
Following her graceful steps, light filled the tree.
Silver brilliance flowed from the tips of her hands. The radiance that bloomed without end eventually dyed the dark sky blue.
To Lawrence's amazement, once the sky cleared, life began to blossom across the blackened earth.
The blue grass returned, and the sprouting seedlings turned into trees, painting the world with beauty.
What filled the sky was not a circle.
It was a magic circle on a scale Lawrence couldn't even imagine.
"That is the Mountain Witch. The true witches still roam the Spirit World now, but none who can wield Witchcraft as formidable as hers remain."
He couldn't speak.
No, he couldn't even force a voice from his throat.
All that remained in his mouth was a stunned, voiceless breath of awe.
He hadn't understood the sliver of mystery enacted here.
No, he couldn't possibly have understood it.
And yet he could feel exactly how extraordinary this magic was.
Magic that embodied nature itself.
Magic that granted life to a dying land was nothing less than a miracle.
"Paint the laws of the world, and guide them by our will. To know magic is to know the world. See more and experience more. That alone will lead you toward the world's truth."
The scenery changed.
Where the wind carried him next lay an endless wasteland.
A desolate desert where not a single blade of grass could be found.
A man was examining that place where life did not take root.
Sand that could not fill his hands scattered through the air.
The man laid a hand on the barren ground and opened his mouth.
It warped.
The view that should never have been contained twisted into a grotesque shape, and then the magic that began in the man's hand began to erode the wasteland.
This was different from the witch's magic that sowed seeds of life.
This was, quite literally, as though a single image had been painted over the wasteland, as though the world were being colored anew by bringing into existence what had been there from the start.
Bright blue sprouts sprang up all at once.
Blue grass followed in wave after wave.
Trees heavy with ripe fruit.
Clear lakes, and life-giving water that moistened the parched earth.
Before long, the wasteland vanished without a trace.
In its place stood a lush green forest bursting with life.
"Remember this well. Magic is borrowing the laws of the world. Do not try to create those laws by yourself. Even the magic you think you've accomplished alone cannot be used without the world's help. Look around you. There will always be neighbors at your side, lending a hand."
The next scene he reached was a gorge roiling with wildfire.
Across a bridge battered by storm and rain, two forces watched one another.
Standing guard over the bridge were the neighbors of the Spirit World.
Some bore a striking resemblance to Acheron, half-man and half-horse.
And the smaller neighbors, including the fairies, revealed their hostility without bothering to hide it.
In the sky, witches and other winged, inhuman beings could be seen.
Were those properly called wyverns?
A pair of wings with membrane like a bat's.
A tail like a serpent's, and four legs resembling those of a beast.
Their faces, half wolf and half lion, were sharp and fierce.
There were even beautiful women who had wings instead of hands.
Where clothes should have been, there was pure white fur.
The talons that brought to mind birds of prey were beyond sturdy, almost powerfully so.
And behind the many neighbors, there was that presence.
A golden jewel covering the sky.
Merely looking at it was enough to make him shudder with awe, its presence overwhelmingly vast.
Before it, no neighbor could help but seem tiny.
Dragon.
A creature that symbolized the Age of Myth itself gazed down upon them all.
Facing them, on the other hand, were beings backed against a dark forest.
The instant tension reached its peak—
those beings surged out of the woods and charged across the bridge.
"But never allow yourself to be swallowed by the world's laws. At the end of arrogance lies inevitable ruin, so do not repeat the mistakes of the past. Above all else, I beg you, avoid becoming a phantom that lingers only to be made old and forgotten."
At that moment, the scenery changed.
Countless constellations rose and danced in the dark sky.
"It began as wind and as a wish. Facing the light that glittered in the starry sky, small beings spoke prayers and hopes aloud. Sometimes to share joy and sorrow. Sometimes to endure disasters they could not understand. Desperate yearning eventually gave birth to fear and dread, and from there came faith and reverence."
Beyond the fantastical Milky Way born of stars, Lawrence heard Veles's voice in a sky full of stars that gave him a strange sense of déjà vu.
"Any being fears and turns away from what it cannot understand. That is both a defense mechanism for self-preservation and a primal fear. You, standing upon the wall between the cracks, must recognize this, and distinguish those who are inside the wall from those outside it."
His calm, steady tone continued the tale in quiet threads.
"Remember this, Lawrence. Crossing the wall is a taboo condemned in every age. The magic of the Spirit World is the Spirit World's alone. To be different from others is to invite persecution and oppression. On the long road you will walk ahead, never forget that."
It was his final warning.
The strength in that low voice had grown faint.
"This is all the scenery I can leave you. And yet I would like to believe it will surely help you on the road you'll walk from here on."
The starry sky trembled uneasily, and the scenery inscribed within it began to spill out through the cracks.
Light that should never have existed in the night sky.
Clouds visible against a blue sky drifted up one by one.
"Ah, and yet it truly was a long journey. Now I, too, can join the peaceful road everyone is waiting for.... Is that so. They're all there...."
"Veles?"
And then Lawrence woke from the dream.
Before his eyes, Veles lay sound asleep.
From the motionless body, a golden fruit rose into the air.
A brilliance so dazzling it felt as though it might blind him by mere accident.
What jewel, what fruit, could possibly hold such an otherworldly color?
The branch extended toward the jewel-like thing.
As if answering it, the golden fruit sank into the ground.
Like a seed taking root.
Where the fruit touched, a tree burst up from the earth.
Veles would move no more.
Even the faint sound of his breathing was gone.
The one who seemed as if he might speak at any moment had finally set out on his long, long road.
"May the embodiment of hope born from a pure form accompany the journey of the master of the wind as he departs. May it be a peaceful dream. May there be rest upon the road that moves with the wind."
The spirit with black eyes raised a hand.
A breeze from somewhere wrapped gently around the tree.
"The witches of the west pay their respects to the journey of the master of the wind as he departs. May you set out on a peaceful road. May you find the rest you sought at the end of that path."
The cloaked figures riding brooms waved their staffs.
Across the tree grown from the golden fruit, a scatter of sparkling light like a cluster of stars settled down.
"The ants who guard the forest bless the journey of the master of the wind as he departs. Before the sublime cycle of nature, may you find the rest you sought."
The tree spirits gathered their trunks forward.
As its leaves unfurled and intertwined, the tree grew all the faster.
"The spirits of Dragon Valley look up to the master of the wind. May you be able to set out upon a peaceful road. May the rest you sought so desperately wait for you at its end."
The rabbit with four ears came forward as the representative of the smaller neighbors.
It pressed its lips to the roots spreading outward in all directions.
"May you set out upon a peaceful road, O master of the wind."
The neighbors' blessings continued.
By the time the blessings from all those gathered had nearly reached their end, it was Acheron's turn.
"Acheron, the last guardian, guides the master of the wind. Neighbors who have brightened this place today, I, Acheron, comrade and guardian of the master of the wind, shall not forget your sincerity. I ask that you bless the road our friend now leaves behind."
Acheron's branch touched the tree.
The blue leaves turned gold.
The radiance of the golden fruit rose upward.
When he saw that light begin to fade, Acheron started to sing.
He began alone.
Then the witches' song joined his.
Then the whisper of nature sung by the ants came together in harmony.
By the time he realized it, every neighbor gathered there had joined the chorus.
Lawrence was no different.
He didn't know what they were singing, but the song naturally flowed from his mouth as though he had known it from the very beginning.
Waves of emotion carried by the song filled his chest.
It did not begin with the boy.
It was the earnest wish of all the neighbors gathered here, blessing Veles as he departed for a far road.
Sorrow? Joy? Regret?
He didn't know.
Emotions that could not be expressed in a single word eventually came spilling out as tears.
It didn't matter that he didn't understand.
What this carried was a voice. Words would soon be given power, and the song they sang together with the neighbors was already like a magic that had reached the world's truth.
When the long, long song finally ended, the neighbors left one by one.
Acheron exchanged farewells with those who had blessed Veles's final journey.
Lawrence stood a step back and watched them.
He still couldn't believe that Veles had passed away.
As always, it only looked as though he were simply resting his eyes.
But he was no longer here.
Lawrence stroked the cold head of Veles.
May your journey be a peaceful one.
I will never forget the kindness you showed me.
Just as he had done for friends who were no longer in the world, Lawrence vowed that he would never forget Veles.
"You sing rather well."
It was a woman's voice.
When he looked up, he saw a black cloak on a broom and a splendid mask.
The witch of the west.
The one who had sung after Acheron was watching Lawrence.
"I could tell at a glance that the master of the wind thought you special. You want to pursue the laws of the world, don't you? The road of the magical arts is never a path with only one ending. I hope we can meet again someday."
It wasn't meant as a reply.
Before Lawrence could answer, the broom had already taken flight.
"As for the story about being invited to the Witches' Night—come whenever you feel like it."
The broom that had remained until the end added her own words.
She, too, rose into the sky following the others.
"I'll come if I get the chance."
"...Then I'll be hoping that chance comes soon."
The brooms disappeared beyond the heavens.
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