Dio - Experiments (4)

Dio bit his lip and slowly bobbed his head, as if it might help him think more clearly.

"Every time I rolled the balls before, they behaved exactly the same. Same speed, same distance, every time. The Dream was steady. Now you’re here. You cheered for that one... and it shot ahead like someone kicked it. That means at least one thing."

"And that is?"

Brela looked intrigued now, absentmindedly tugging at one of her braids.

"First," Dio said, speaking slowly, uncertain of his own words, "the Dream has patterns. Yet you can affect them. Maybe I can too."

"You too?"

"They always rolled exactly the same way. Never even slightly different. I thought I’d carved them well, and that was all there was to it. But now… it happened exactly as I expected. That raises a lot of questions..."

"Like what?"

"Is the Dream really consistent, or is it only as consistent as we expect it to be? Or maybe it’s stable because we subconsciously expect it to be, because we assume things work a certain way. Are we the ones stabilizing it? Does everyone stabilize it equally? Or differently? And which things stay the same even when we’re not around?"

"We can’t really find that out," Brela pointed out, responding only to the last question, her expression puzzled by all the others.

"Probably not. I don’t know how, at least," Dio said with a sigh. "But there’s one thing I do want to try..."

Brela raised an eyebrow.

"And what’s that?"

Dio didn’t answer. Instead, he climbed the slope once more, retrieving the dark sphere from the moss and dirt and the other one from the base of the groove.

At the top, he crouched beside the tree and set the balls in place.

He stared more intently at the dark brown one.

I made this with my own hands. I brought it into the Dream with its properties. Yet what if it can’t roll? What if it simply won’t move? Being round doesn’t mean it has to roll...

The thought struck Dio as strange, unsettling. Yet he imagined it anyway.

He pictured the sphere: smooth, heavy, unmoving. And that familiar, terrible blindness returned—the one that had hovered like a warning over his thoughts earlier, the one that had been there each time he was about to...

This time, it didn’t scare him.

It inspired him.

It was like a chasm he needed to dive into. Deeper and deeper. To see what was there, in the ball, in the...

Deeper.

Into its nature. Into the abyss beyond and below and above and around.

There he was, soaking in eternity. He felt as if he had wandered too far, much too far... The forest stretched out, different, blind, so blind... and the abyss gaped, yawned, bled, flooded everything around him...

"Dio... Hey, DIO! What are you doing? What are you doing?! You’re scaring me! Are you still there? DIO!"

he shook him hard, ripping him back to himself, and he blinked. Her fingers were clenched so tightly around his arms that her knuckles were white. She was strong, unbelievably strong, and Dio cried out in pain, but she kept shaking him, trying to bring him back.

"What the...?!" he shouted, stunned.

The balls tumbled away, forgotten, rolling at nearly the same speed before thudding into the moss below and...

"Dio, what was that?! You… you were completely gone! You looked almost mad, your eyes... I... I..." Her voice cracked. "Shit, I was afraid. Afraid of you... Oh no, wait, did I hurt you?"

She looked down at her hands and swallowed hard. Fumbling, she pulled a small tin of salve from her pouch, her fingers trembling, and smeared it quickly on his wrists.

Dio noticed they had turned an unhealthy shade of blue, and only now did he realize how much they ached.

As soon as the paste touched his skin, the hurt vanished. Life rushed back through the contact. It surged up his arms, repairing, reviving, renewing. It spread into him, woven from Brela’s hands, from her intent, her care...

"DIO!"

He flinched again.

This time, Brela had reached toward him gently, shivering, and laid her hand softly on his shoulder.

"There was something," he said quietly, after taking several deep breaths. "Something inside me, Brela..."

He realized he was shaking too. His eyes were damp.

Was that panic? Madness? Something else? It felt so... empty. So hollow. And yet... so infinitely full.

"I... scared you?" Dio finally said, his voice trembling. "Brela, I didn’t mean to, please believe me! I only wanted to know if the sphere could also... if it was possible..."

He trailed off as she shook her head.

"Dio, you weren’t here anymore. You didn’t even see me. All you saw were those dumb balls and that stupid groove and... somewhere else. Far away. It felt like... like you would’ve done anything, paid any price, just to figure out... something. I don’t even know what, exactly. But that’s how it felt."

Dio looked down in shame.

"Yeah... that’s exactly what it was. I didn’t even know who I was anymore. There was this... thing in me. I felt almost blind, and all I wanted was to see. I don’t know, Brela... what should I do? I don’t want to cause trouble. I’ve seen the kind of damage people can do in the Dream when they have power. Even if I don’t think I used Lucidity just now..."

His thoughts drifted back to Ray. How she had vaporized those two men, burned out the eyes of that poor young woman...

"Promise me you’ll hold yourself back. Promise me you’ll take things slowly, not rush. If you sprint too fast toward something new, you could fall into a bottomless pit you didn’t even see coming. Please, promise me! No more reckless experiments. You’re learning plenty already! Ask people instead. Talk to them, like you always do. Please don’t risk... I don’t even know what you risked just now, but it was awful..."

She fell silent, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Then she gave him an encouraging nod and a soft, warm smile.

She’s still afraid, Dio realized with a jolt. She’s really afraid.

"I promise, Brela. On everything that matters to me. On Ray, on Des... on you. On Yorm and Oli and everyone else. On Daw itself. I swear I won’t lose myself in the pursuit of knowing!" he said, and squeezed the hand she still had resting on his shoulder, as firmly as he could without hurting her.

Her smile grew warmer, and the fear faded from her face.

"So... what now?" she asked.

"Exhausted," he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Yeah," she said, helping him to his feet. Together, they made their way back to the settlement to rest.

The sun had vanished behind the treetops, leaving the forest bathed in amber light. Shadows stretched long and gentle over the path as Dio and Brela walked side by side, her hand lightly supporting his elbow, his steps slow and uneven with weariness.

For a while, neither of them spoke. The quiet wasn’t heavy; it felt earned, like something sacred held between them. Only the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of a shmuttle accompanied their slow return.

As they neared the edge of the village, the smell of smoke and grain reached them. Between the huts, people were baking. Laughing. Everything continued, simple and rhythmic, unaware of the strangeness that had just taken place among the trees.

"I think I need to stop thinking for a while," Dio finally said, his voice hoarse with fatigue.

"Good," Brela replied. "Let things happen without you watching for a bit."

They finally reached their log where Yorm and Des were already waiting. A few villagers sat nearby around a small campfire, their faces calm, glowing faintly in the light. Lot was also there, carving something small in his lap. He looked up, caught sight of them, and gave a nod, but didn’t interrupt.

Brela guided Dio to their log and helped him sit next to Des. She dropped down beside him with a dramatic sigh, then leaned back and stretched out her legs in the dirt.

"I still think my sphere was faster," she said playfully, glancing sideways at him.

Dio laughed softly, closing his eyes as the flames warmed his face.

"It was. Only because you believed in it."

"I believe in a lot of strange things," Brela murmured, a brief shadow crossing her face. "Let’s hope some of them stay in my head. I don’t need trouble. You are trouble enough, goofball."

Dio chuckled again. He was too tired to untangle her words.

"Everything alright?" Des asked them, but Dio could only nod in exhaustion.

"Yes, Des. Nothing important. Don’t worry," Brela added with a sigh.

Des frowned, yet didn’t press the matter.

Above them, the stars were beginning to pierce the sky, one by one. A cool breeze moved through the branches. Dio leaned back and let himself sink into the quiet.

Then, gently, he reached into the pouch at his belt and ran his fingers over the polished curve of one of the wooden spheres.

It was still there. Solid. Real.

And I am still myself, he thought. Whatever that means tonight.

Beside him, Brela had rested her head on her knees. Her breathing was slow and steady. A flower from her hair had fallen to the ground, half in shadow, half in firelight.

Dio looked at it, at the flame, at the stars above.

And for now, for just this evening, he wanted to know nothing more about the Dream.