"Magic," Elara begins, tapping her chest firmly, then forming a fist just below her breasts, "comes from here."

  She taps her head. "And is controlled here."

  Naomi’s rapt concentration is locked entirely on Elara, her small brow furrowed in focus.

  "Now, at the moment, you have magic here."

  Elara gently taps the girl’s chest, just below her heart. Naomi follows the motion, pressing her small fingers against the spot.

  Then Elara touches her own temple. "But no control here."

  Naomi nods slowly, her lips pressing together in thought.

  Elara takes a breath, hesitating for a moment, and that’s when Del realises—he’s rubbing his own chest absently, right above his diaphragm.

  ‘If only… Maybe one day, you daft sod.’

  "Now, because you haven’t learned control yet," Elara continues, "your dreamwalking just happens when it wants to. And it goes where it likes."

  She tilts her head slightly, watching the child. "Do you see what I mean?"

  Naomi’s eyes narrow slightly in thought, her small hands clenching briefly before she finally gives a slow nod.

  "I think so," she says. "That’s why I have dreams?"

  It’s spoken like a question, uncertainty laced through the words.

  "I believe it is," Elara says with a bright smile. "Now, controlling it—this is the hard part."

  She frowns, tapping her fingers lightly against her knee. "Well, hard at first. When I first learned to control plants, it was difficult, but the more I did it, the easier it became."

  Naomi chews on her lip, hard, her small fingers tapping restlessly against her knee as she processes Elara’s words.

  Then, her head jerks up suddenly, eyes narrowing.

  "But how can I control a dream?" she blurts, frustration edging into her voice. "I’m asleep."

  Her brows scrunch together, the earlier enthusiasm in her face now tangled with confusion. She shifts, arms folding tightly across her chest, her foot jiggling slightly as if she’s bracing herself against something that doesn’t quite make sense.

  ‘Fair point.’ Del shifts slightly, fascinated despite himself. ‘This whole subject has me enthralled.’

  Elara doesn’t answer immediately.

  Instead, she watches Naomi closely, her expression warm and knowing. Then she grins.

  "That’s why you learn to control it when you’re not really asleep."

  Naomi’s fidgeting slows, her expression flickering between skepticism and curiosity.

  Elara pauses, allowing Naomi to settle, then continues.

  "You know when you lie down and close your eyes to rest but don’t actually sleep?"

  Naomi’s frown deepens for a second, but then her eyes brighten with understanding.

  "Nap time."

  Then she wrinkles her nose, lowering her voice to a mock-serious whisper.

  "I don’t always want to sleep, but I pretend so Mummy won’t get cross."

  Elara laughs softly, nodding. "Exactly."

  Naomi grins at the validation, her earlier frustration melting away.

  "Well, we’re going to have nap time now," Elara explains, her tone shifting back to a guiding calmness. "Only this time, when you close your eyes, I want you to focus on your breathing."

  Naomi’s posture straightens, her hands unclenching slightly. She nods once, her movements slower, more deliberate now, as if she’s beginning to see the shape of something important.

  "As you breathe in slowly," Elara continues, her voice gentle yet firm, "picture in your mind one of the people who have gone missing. Then breathe out slowly."

  Naomi inhales deeply, her small chest rising and falling, though there’s a slight hesitation in the way she does it—uncertainty, the edge of doubt.

  Del watches as she furrows her brows, adjusting her grip on her tunic as though trying to ground herself.

  Elara notices too.

  She leans in ever so slightly, keeping her voice steady.

  "Next breath, think of another one," she instructs. "Focus most on the people you know best and like the most."

  Naomi’s fingers curl slightly, her breathing more measured now, her small frame tensing and then relaxing in intervals as she tries to follow along.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  The crease in her forehead smooths out just a little, her previous fidgeting lessening, though there’s still an air of nervous energy clinging to her.

  Elara pauses, watching, making sure she isn’t pushing too hard.

  "You understand?"

  Naomi’s eyelashes flutter, then she opens her eyes.

  There’s still a flicker of uncertainty, but she nods—slower this time, more sure of herself.

  "I think so."

  Elara smiles. "Good. Now, as you concentrate on your breathing and the people, you may find yourself floating or flying."

  Naomi blinks, startled.

  "Flying?" she repeats, uncertain.

  "Yes," Elara confirms. "It might feel like floating at first, like you’re drifting in the air. Don’t fight it. Let it happen. It can be fun once you get used to it."

  Naomi is completely transfixed now, her earlier hesitation replaced by fascination and the tiniest flicker of excitement.

  "Now," Elara leans in slightly, "when you’re flying like this, you’ll find that you can still talk. Just stay in the flying and tell us what you see."

  She meets Naomi’s gaze, her next words spoken with absolute certainty.

  "This is what controlled Dreamwalking is all about."

  "Can I try it?" Naomi asks softly, her voice edged with both eagerness and a flicker of uncertainty.

  Elara nods but holds up a hand. "One last thing to learn first."

  Naomi’s brow furrows slightly, but she listens intently.

  "When you sleep and dream, you wake up in the morning like always," Elara explains. "But when you do a nap-time dreamwalk, you need to have a signal to bring yourself back."

  Naomi tilts her head. "A signal?"

  Elara nods. "A trigger. Something to tell your mind it’s time to leave the dream and return."

  She watches Naomi carefully, making sure she hasn’t lost her yet. The girl’s small nod of understanding is enough to continue.

  "Now, the signal or trigger can be anything—you could say a word, clap your hands, or snap your fingers. As long as you decide before you start, it will work."

  Naomi thinks for a moment, then frowns. "What happens if I don’t have a trigger?"

  There’s a faint crease of worry in her forehead now, a hesitation mirrored in Del’s own gut.

  "Then you’ll simply fall asleep and wake up normally, just like you do at night," Elara reassures her gently.

  Naomi’s shoulders relax slightly, her anxious fidgeting easing. It seems to relieve the worry that had begun forming in her—

  And, to be fair, in me, Del thinks grimly.

  Paolo, who has been listening in tight silence, finally speaks.

  "Is she in any danger doing this dreamwalking thing?"

  There’s an edge to his voice, a lingering weariness behind the words—but also a quiet, growing protectiveness.

  Elara shakes her head, her expression calm but firm.

  "No, not really," she answers. "She will be walking the Astral, and while it can sometimes feel strange—maybe even scary—it’s no more harmful than a dream."

  Del isn’t entirely convinced.

  ‘Nightmares can be pretty damn scary places.’

  A flicker of unease slithers through his thoughts.

  ‘Are we sending a child into one?’

  But Naomi doesn’t seem troubled.

  In fact, she sits up straighter, tightening her grip on Elara’s hand.

  "Can I try it now?" she asks. "I’m not scared—not if you hold my hand."

  Elara’s smile spreads, warm and steady, chasing away the lingering tension in the room.

  "Of course you can hold my hand, Naomi."

  She gives the girl’s fingers a gentle squeeze.

  "And yes, we can try it now."

  Del and Paolo exchange a glance, then wordlessly begin rearranging the furniture.

  Paolo drags a chair over, placing it next to the chaise longue in the corner, while Del adds another two chairs for them to observe from.

  A cushion is added to the chaise for Naomi’s comfort.

  She clambers onto the seat eagerly, shifting her small frame to settle in properly. But now, her movements are slower, more deliberate, as if the weight of the moment has finally settled on her shoulders.

  Her excitement is still there—bright and humming beneath the surface—but for the first time, it is laced with something else.

  Understanding.

  This isn’t just a game.

  Elara sits beside her, never letting go of Naomi’s hand.

  For a brief moment, the room feels different.

  The sounds from outside—**the faint murmur of villagers, the occasional clang of a hammer from the blacksmith’s forge, the distant call of a trader—**all seem to fade slightly.

  As if the space around them is holding its breath.

  Elara lets the stillness settle before she speaks.

  "Now," she begins, her voice a quiet thread in the hush, "as you start, you might feel a build-up of pressure here."

  She taps Naomi’s chest lightly.

  Naomi blinks, then presses a small hand against the spot, as if expecting to feel something immediately.

  For a second—nothing.

  Then, the barest flicker of warmth.

  A gentle stirring beneath her ribs, like the first ripples on the surface of a still pond.

  "That’s your mana pool," Elara explains, "and it’s what lets you dreamwalk."

  The words feel heavier somehow, like they hold something more than just knowledge—like they carry the weight of something ancient.

  Naomi keeps her hand pressed to her chest, her breath slowing slightly, as if she is beginning to sense it.

  Del watches as a small furrow of concentration appears between her brows.

  The air around them is still, charged with something he can’t quite name.

  Elara continues, her tone both guiding and reassuring.

  "The pressure is normal with all magics," she says. "When you feel it, don’t fight it. Just let it flow—"

  She taps the side of Naomi’s head.

  "—Up to here. Let it fill the pictures you’re imagining of the people who are missing. That’s how you fly."

  Naomi’s breathing deepens slightly, her small fingers curling slightly into the fabric of her tunic.

  She gives a slow, serious nod, absorbing each word as if they hold more weight than anything she’s ever been told before.

  A faint shiver passes through Del—not from cold, but from something else entirely.

  Even Paolo, who had been watching with mild skepticism, has stopped fidgeting.

  They’re all waiting. Watching.

  Elara’s expression hardens slightly, her focus locking onto Naomi’s.

  "And one last thing—this is important."

  She leans in, her voice lower now, steady and patient but firm.

  "Magic is not easy."

  Naomi’s fingers twitch slightly.

  She doesn’t blink.

  "Don’t worry if you don’t manage it straight away," Elara assures her. "It may take several tries before you learn control."

  Naomi presses her lips together, her small shoulders squaring with quiet determination.

  The room feels impossibly still.

  Quietly;

  A single, slow breath from Naomi.

  And the air seems to shift, just slightly.

  Del doesn’t know what to expect.

  But he feels it—the collective holding of breath in the room, the way every small movement stills, as if even the air itself is waiting.

  The silence is not empty.

  It is heavy, thick with anticipation, pressing in around them like the moment before a storm breaks.

  The air seems thicker somehow, heavier, like they are all balanced on the edge of something uncertain.

  ‘If she can manage at all, it’s a big ask of a young child.’

  A flicker of guilt tugs at him.

  ‘We’re placing so much on such tiny shoulders.’

  But Naomi doesn’t hesitate.

  She draws a breath, small but steady, the kind that fills space beyond her size.

  Her fingers tighten around Elara’s, not in fear, but in resolve.

  She shifts slightly, giving a small determined wriggle to get comfortable, her tiny frame settling into the weight of the unknown.

  Then—

  She closes her eyes.

  And the room waits.

  And waits.

  The stillness deepens, stretches, sharpens.

  Del swears the temperature shifts, a faint hum of something not-quite-there brushing against his skin.

  Even the faintest sound—the creak of wood, the whisper of breath—is too loud.

  Elara doesn’t move.

  Paolo doesn’t move.

  No one breathes.

  Naomi’s fingers twitch—just once.