Sunset. The room was quiet. Serene. If she could get some rest before the time, she would count it good. So much had happened today, so many preparations. For tonight. Two and a half years to lead up to tonight. For now, a little solitude to gather her thoughts. It was so dark in the room that the only thing that could be seen was her long white robe and her long blonde and grey hair. She sat on the floor, resting on her legs. She closed her eyes, soaked in the silence, focused on her breathing. She would stay in this position until the time had come. But it wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. The knob was beginning to twist open before Deja could even grant permission to enter. Light from the corridor spilled in, silhouetting a young girl dressed in an all-white long sleeve shirt with long grey pants.
“Come in, child,” Deja said, more under her breath than to the door.
Lysandra, while not Deja’s personal assistant, had functioned as the closest thing to one…more or less.
Deja sighed heavily. “Yes, what is it, child?”
“Everyone is here. Everything is ready.”
“So soon? Tarn works quickly.”
“Yes, my Lady,” Lysandra smiled. “Quickly and efficiently.”
Deja looked at her. She’d seen that smile often before. Particularly at the mention of the young Kronan’s name.
“Indeed. Very well, child. Inform the others I will join in a moment. And the robe. Make sure a robe is ready and utilized the very moment it is needed.”
“Yes, my Lady,” she replied, backing out of the room.
Deja inhaled, kept it for a moment, exhaled with a heavy sigh. This time not for being disturbed, but for the feat that lies ahead. As she arose, she looked around her room. If the Nest was her sanctuary, then her bedroom was her sanctum sanctorum. She’d done her best to give it the feel of her home village of Halla. Artifacts passed down from generations. Ceremonial cloths draped along the chairs, the bed, the vanity. A meditative rug near the center of the room. Yet, for all the comforts of home, it was not home. For now though, it was the next best thing. Slowly she stood. For a brief moment she allowed her age to show. But only behind the closed door of her room. The oldest of them all, she bears the burden and mantle of leadership and her strength kept the group going. She left her room to join the group.
There were quite a few steps from her room, through the dimly lit hallway, and into the Great Hall. The Great Hall was a huge opening within the Nest. It could easily be compared to a cross between a cavern and an auditorium. As she walked through the Great Hall, it still filled her with pride to see the different races of Kyan coalesced into one group. She turned to look at Seven. The young blond haired, blue eyed man before her had come a long way in such a short time during his time among them. She wondered if his ‘People’ would even recognize him, let alone understand him, given his choice of a more civilized environment…and his preference for speech. Even Alanjon was here, and he’s more away from the Nest than present. The ardent, avid adventurer is how he describes himself.
Though they were small in number (twenty-one in all) she knew her team would make a difference. This night would be a major stepping stone towards that end. If Tarn’s calculations were correct, then the key to Kyan’s survival will arrive tonight. Then Deja could expand her plan of further uniting her people, her planet together. And in turn find a way to stop the oncoming war.
“Tarn,” she acknowledged as she weaved through the assemblage.
“I was told everything was ready?”
“Yes. On my end,” he said, nodding towards the platform in the midst of them all.
The Dreamweaver. A device capable of tapping into the subconscious level of an entity’s harmonic aura on another plane of existence and bringing the essence of that person in actual physical form to Kyan.
At least in theory.
The device was the first of its kind. A prototype that had never been built before. It took almost a year before Tarn, Deja and Lauv could get the Arcane to match and translate properly all that would be needed. The design and building required the combination of Tarn’s Kronan technology and Deja’s Gi-jan abilities. And it was not without side effects. Deja had tried to understand the mechanics behind Tarn’s theory when the Kronan explained it to her. However, in the end, she simply told him to do what needs to be done. Seems he has done his part, she mused.
“And now it falls to me.”
Once again she looked at the device: small and circular, roughly only five feet in diameter. A soft, fluorescent-like light illuminated through a soft padded bedding. Simple in design, complex in operation.
“And now it falls to me,” she repeated.
The entire room fell silent as Deja began walking slowly around the Dreamweaver. She was not only the eldest among the team, she was also the tallest of the women. Taking her time, she seemed to be walking in a rhythm. Slowly, smoothly, her eyes began to close. As if she were listening to a song only she could hear. Melodic and soothing. Then, as all looked on, an aura seemed to glow around her. Faint at first, as if one had to look twice to make sure it was happening. Then, as Deja slowed her pace, the illumination grew. All at once Deja stopped, yet the aura increased in brightness. It made Deja appear to be years younger and gave off an exuberance that both belied and denied her true age. It was becoming apparent to all in the Great Hall that the aura around Deja was becoming in synch with the soft light of the Dreamweaver. Slowly moving from Deja to the firm padded surface of the Dreamweaver.
That’s when it happened.
As Deja opened her eyes she gazed upon the Dreamweaver. The aura that had once been around Deja was now in a crescent-like shape in the bed of the device, the Dreamweaver. The aura was beginning to shape and form. Taking on a humanoid appearance. Even the most stoic of the group, ones like Ceerra and LQ, offered visible amazement. It was as if they were coming out of a dream and had to readjust their eyes to accept the reality. And, ironically enough, that is how the figure came into being. All watched as the shape went from aura to haze to fog to texture to real. It was female, late teens by appearance, caramel colored skin with short hair. Though laying in a fetal position one could easily recognize she had an athletic body. A body that was stirring. A body beginning to rise. Lysandra quickly stepped in to cover her naked form. Naturally, because she was the leader, it was Deja who spoke first.
“Welcome, D’stini,” she began. “To Kyan. My name is Deja. We are the Revyns.”