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“Meditation,” I began. “Allowing the visions to come to you when your mind is relaxed. Changing your mindset from hatred to gratitude. Learn to ask questions and receive answers.”
He snorted. “So simple.”
“The mind is not so easily tamed, but it can be done. Every creature in the realms is able to control the gifts they are given as long as they are willing to learn how.”
“You know my reasons—”
“I know, but it is long past time you forgave yourself and healed.”
His lips tightened, and he sighed. “Clawdia asked me to help her create an illusion of Fafnir to show the council. Apparently, they are tracking the wrong men.” I was unaware of that but allowed him to continue. “I’ve thought about it, and if you are able to control the dreamscape, she need only pull me into a dream and show me an image. I can then use that to show the council. “
I shifted in my seat, frowning. “The dreamscape is no place to guess around in. If anything went wrong, we could lose you.”
“You wish for us to wait until Baelen is awake?”
“No. But it may be safer. Or try to induce a vision of Fafnir, which you can present to the council.” Both ideas had merit, but both could be dangerous in different ways.
But we need the council chasing the right man. We need to know where he is so when the protector awakens and tells us more about our foe, we can plan our attack and finally defeat this evil.
My mind was fit to bursting with the amount we had to do. Destroying Fafnir was just step one, and yet that step was huge.
Savida, turning his attention back to us, interrupted with his cheerful manner. “Such talk of visions and safety are left until morning. We are at a party. It’s been so long since we were able to drink and be merry.”
I smirked, suddenly cast back into the memory. “It was at the full moon party in Mestaclocan, wasn’t it?”
“It was.” He looked at Daithi mischievously. “I had to fly us home because you were climbing the trees, were you not, my love?”
“We do not speak of it.” Daithi glared, but his lip twitched.
“Daithi.” Charlie gasped dramatically. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Are we anticipating a similar incident tonight?” I asked.
“Fingers crossed,” Charlie said, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Don’t mind me,” a voice from behind said. I turned and recognized Samuel, the shifter representative on the council. He pulled back the empty chair, the chair intended for Clawdia and said, “I heard y’all mention Mestaclocan and couldn’t help but listen in.”
“It’s your ancestral home.” Savida nodded. “Your curiosity is valid.”
“I’d love to hear more about it,” he said with his drawling voice and leaned in, the green bottle in his hand forgotten.
Savida got into his storyteller persona, his black eyes alight with excitement. He shifted in his seat with a flutter of his wings and began in a low voice. “It’s as rich and diverse as this realm, but as you know, the people house beasts within them, which make tempers fraught. It can be dangerous in some places. But in others … I’ve never seen more gentle or understanding people. It’s from them that Zaide learned to meditate.”
Samuel spared me a glance before saying, “We teach our children to meditate. It’s how many learn to communicate with their animal.”
I gave Daithi a look before turning back to Samuel. “The practice lives on with you. I’m sure those in Mestaclocan would be glad to know you honor their ways.”
A female listening nearby came into the conversation and sat on the armrest of Samuel’s chair. “What would you say is the most interesting place you’ve been to in the realms?”
Savida jumped to take the question. “In Daithi’s homeland, Álfheimr, there is a small island called Santrix, and it’s full of people who have hair that changes color with their mood. You might not think this is unusual, but they never leave their island. They have a group of women who can heal but only at the cost of their own life, and they are treated like goddesses. And anyone who approaches the island is shot at with arrows. We once took a ferry to see if we could see them, but after I received an arrow through the wing, we decided they weren’t ready for visitors.”
The table, and everyone listening in on the conversation surrounding the table, laughed. Savida preened, completely in his element.
“Savida only believes it to be interesting because no one has ever been there. Everything we know is a myth,” Daithi added.
“All myths come from truths,” Savida argued.
“The women die if they heal someone?” someone else asked.
