Chapter 26: Mental Anchor

"You aren't there yet, Roland."

Enid said, "We name the ranks of ritualists 'Circles.' And you, Roland, are still a small distance away from the First Circle... a tiny distance. Right now, there is one thing you must do."

"Prepare an anchor."

An anchor?

"That’s right, an anchor. I want to ask you a question, Roland: do you dream?"

"Of course?"

Enid looked at him, a faint, inscrutable smile on her lips. "Then how do you tell whether or not you are currently in a dream?"

Roland opened his mouth to answer. He raised his hand, subconsciously resting it on the wooden table. The table felt sticky. It was a cake. The room began to soften, the floor turning into mud. Wine dripped from the ceiling, splashing onto the tip of his nose. He licked it; it tasted spicy, burning his throat. Everything around him felt like that scene he had once encountered—the carriage traveling across the lake.

...

When he opened his eyes again, he was reclining in a lounge chair, covered by a wool blanket. The heat radiating from the fireplace kept the room cozy. The walls, painted in green, were adorned with golden patterns traced by a soft-tipped brush. The carpet was a deep yellow, layered with an additional animal pelt. In the center of the room stood a massive square table, laden with steaks, muffins, and two bottles of sherry.

Enid was stooped over, lighting the candles on a candelabra one by one with a match.

"You’re awake?"

She looked back at Roland, smiled, and walked over quickly.

Before Enid could say anything else, Roland threw off the blanket and frowned. "Am I still dreaming, Madam?"

He couldn't be sure. His voice echoed in the empty room. Aside from the crackling of the firewood in the fireplace, the scent of meat and rose incense that had drifted into his nostrils was gone. Roland touched his thigh. The blanket was gone, too.

Enid sat beside him, chin resting on her hand, holding a glass of red wine as she watched him. The wooden table, the chair, the monotonous living room.

"A double-layered dream. You caught on quickly. Roland, this is the power of transcendent beings: ritualists, specters, or xenomorphs."

"We are able to harness the 'Secret' drawn from the Sleeping World to cast spells that seem incredible to you. At the same time, by releasing large quantities of 'Secret,' we can bridge the Sleeping World to create a 'Field'—the 'dream' you just experienced."

She swirled the wine in her glass and continued slowly:

"Many rituals—especially the special or powerful ones—must be performed within the range of a 'Field.' This includes using a 'Field' to isolate mortals, preventing battles from affecting innocent citizens."

She reached out and tapped the back of Roland's hand with her fingertip.

"The Waking World, reality, the material plane, the skin of the world—this is where you have lived for the last dozen years."

Then, she flipped her hand over and tapped his palm.

"The Sleeping World, the dreamscape we enter after falling asleep. This place is the confluence of all human subconsciousness and fantasy; it is the resting place of gods, the birthplace of xenomorphs, the center of chaotic storms, a place of treasures, and..."

"The starting point of the Great Path."

Finally, she had Roland close his fingers into a fist.

"Only those who can draw and master the 'Secret' from the Sleeping World are considered qualified apprentices."

She explained the "Waking World" and the "Sleeping World" to Roland, which also explained why he needed an anchor.

"Powerful practitioners of the arcane all possess the strength to create a 'Field.' And if you want to become an apprentice and take that first step, you must enter the Sleeping World repeatedly."

"Therefore, learning how to discern a dream is the first step toward walking the 'Great Path,'" Enid said, her face cold as she tried to intimidate him. "You should have experienced that feeling of being unable to tell reality from a dream."

That was true, Roland thought.

So he needed a guarantee—a guarantee to allow him to traverse dreams frequently and for long periods.

*This is the second time she has deceived me with a dream.*
*Roland Collins intends to give her a slap to express his anger at being fooled.*

-You are quite humorous.

Roland wanted to ask more about the "anchor," but Enid pressed a cold, small object into his hand.

"The anchor I used when I was an apprentice. It’s useless to me now."

Roland felt the object in his hand. It was a brooch embedded with a polygonal gemstone, cold and hard.

[Purple Gem Brooch]
[Unknown Purpose]

"Think about how I used it to distinguish between reality and dreams."

This child always managed to surprise her. When Enid saw Roland begin to rub the pin with his fingertip, she knew he had discovered the secret. A clever child, beautiful, elegant, with pure eyes and a pleasant voice... and above all, intelligent. He would be well-suited to be an Executor.

"The pin has no tip, Madam."
"Your brooch has no point."

Enid laughed. "Actually, for a ritualist, a 'Field' is not hard to detect, nor is it particularly special; it doesn't even strictly require an anchor to reveal it."

"The true purpose of a so-called 'anchor' is not in the Waking World."

"It is used by ritualists as an amulet—a talisman for when one explores dreams, when one explores the Sleeping World."

"It is a chaotic, disordered place of storms."

"And an 'anchor' serves to constantly remind the ritualist, saving them from sinking into the prison of the dream and never waking again."

She took the brooch back and placed a piece of apple in Roland's hand instead.

"Go back and think, Roland. Think carefully."

"What is something you carry with you, something you touch constantly? If you were to tamper with it, to create a subtle 'imperfection' in it, it could quickly remind you, telling you—this is not the Waking World."

Roland listened intently to Enid, but the text before his eyes appeared again to cause trouble.

[Anchor: No one would ever guess that the beautiful Mr. Roland Collins wears women's pantyhose embroidered with the words 'Grand Entrance.']

Roland: ...
-I now strongly suspect that Miss Nina didn't want to live anymore because of you.

"I can give you a few outdated examples," Enid said, putting the brooch away. "Things used by previous Executors."

"For instance, a 'Queen' piece that, after special weighting, will always fall in the same direction; or dice that only ever land on the same number; or a hair ribbon with metal woven inside..."

"There are also rings, glasses, or even false teeth."

"Think hard."

"You have two weeks to craft your anchor."

"Then, I will test you again."

Enid stood up and plucked a few coins from her coat, putting them into his hand, calling it a stipend.

But Roland had so many more questions. What did "the resting place of gods" mean? What was the birthplace of xenomorphs? Were the specters what he imagined them to be? How did the Great Paths of different sects differ? And why was the Sleeping World, with all its dangers, called a mountain of treasure?

He had too many questions. When the fire in the fog is lit, the fire-bearer only then begins to truly discover the unknown. He was like someone standing in a thick mist, having lit a fire for the first time, seeing the real world.

"I will tell you slowly, Roland. Don't be in a rush."

Enid glanced back at the wall clock. "You should go. Tell Phineas Collins that you intend to join the Inquisition and have no time to waste on those foolish, trivial matters."

Roland rubbed the coins in his hand.

"Thank you, Madam."

Enid’s eyes held a deep, lingering meaning. "That is not all I want."

*The Evil-Minded Bat wants Roland Collins.*

-I didn't notice you being this talkative when we were in the dream earlier.