My home, my parents' home, had changed. The previous stark white paint was now a deep blue-green, highlighting the brick path and small blossoming garden out front.

  Two rocking chairs sat out front that I knew never existed when I lived there. From the chairs I moved my gaze to the badly hand-painted bells hanging on a hook on the front door. I could hardly call what was depicted a face, and it would no doubt be as useful as a toothpick in warding off Nightmares.

  The bushes-

  I shook my head, stalling wasn’t going to accomplish anything except keep me fretting over their intentions. I was a Dreamer now, capable of making the world bend to my Dream, eventually, facing my parents should not be too difficult.

  I wrapped myself in the falsity of the thought like a blanket and stepped up to the door, knocking three times. My spine stiffened when the sound of footsteps were heard from the other side of the door.

  It was a young Solarian maid, perhaps five or six years my senior, who opened the door and analyzed me with a well practiced up and down glance.

  I wore some of my normal clothing from Eichlin. The thicker layers made me sweat, and it was definitely out of modern Zuvan fashion. However it was that or be gawked at because of the garish Daybreak Dreamer Academy uniform.

  Therefore the maid found me suitably unimpressive.

  “How may the Gao family help you today mister?” she asked.

  “I am Grace and Gui Gao’s son.”

  The maid’s face twisted in confusion, as though I told the wrong punchline to a joke she’d never heard. Then her eyes widened for a flash before she hastily composed herself.

  “Monty Gao?”

  “Yes,” I replied, brandishing the letter with the spider seal still attached.

  “Please give me a moment to check to see if Master and Mistress Gao are in,” she said, giving me a brief bow before closing the door silently, as if she were a child sneaking out of her room in the middle of the night.

  I stared at the door unimpressed. As if a maid wouldn’t know if their employers were home. Especially in a cramped townhouse. I wondered if my parents would tell her to send me away and would watch my receding form from the second story.

  However, only a minute later, I had been counting, the maid returned, bowing to me briefly before opening the door and leading me toward the sitting room.

  It was quaint and cozy with two couches and two chairs surrounding an oval table. Bookshelves showed tasteful reads and small nicknacks, between two windows facing the front lawn was a painting of a comune of Children of the Sun praying to the burning orb that was Alan. Opposite it was a familiar friend, the grandfather clock I spent many of my childhood days learning how to take apart and put together.

  “Please, Mister Monty, how do you like your tea?”

  “Oolong, with a drop of honey,” I said, sitting on one of the couches. Splayed before me was a series of books filled with neat words and notebooks filled with wild scratchy writing.

  I reached for one of the notebooks, but the maid quickly scooped them all up in her arms and walked out of the room toward where I remember the kitchen being.

  “My apologies for the mess, Mister Monty,” she called hastily behind her.

  I didn’t respond, my attention was snagged by the sounds coming from above me. The wood creaked and if I were a child in the night I would think it was some unknown burglar or the ominous moans of a Nightmare.

  The maid placed the teacup in front of me, giving me a polite, but unsure smile.

  “You like your tea just like your mother.”

  The cup halted halfway to my lips for a moment before continuing.

  “My mother likes her tea like my grandfather,” I replied smoothly after taking a sip. Perfect. “Thank you for the tea.”

  “My pleasure, Mister Monty. Would you like a biscuit?”

  “No thank you… do you know how long they will be?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The maid, I should get her name, hesitated for a moment.

  “I do not, they were in the middle of some business discussions when I informed them of your arrival so it may take them a few minutes to come down.”

  The maid left me then, and to not look like a brainless fool staring at the ceiling I focused on the grandfather clock in front of me. My hand closed over my watch, my thumb pressing against the side to feel the ticks like one would press their fingers against the carotid artery for a pulse.

  It was as though I could see the insides of the grandfather clock moving to match my watch, and I let my mind settle there like a stone thrown into a placid lake.

  “Monty?” a haunting voice asked hesitantly.

  They’d grown older.

  Gui Gao looked more like me than I remembered, and he seemed to have lost the muscle he had gained from working hard labor jobs. His short and tidy hair was flecked with a grey of a similar shade to his eyes. Our eyes.

  Grace Gao looked much the same, if even skinnier than before. Her collar bones looked as though they could be pulled off of her torso and the hollow of her throat looked bottomless. Like me she was all sharp angles with bony joints and thin limbs. Unlike father’s salt and pepper hair she had a single grey streak that ran from one of her temples, and with her hair done in a twisting up-do, it looked as though she had a large piece of black and grey candy stuck onto her head.

  I stood quickly, my hand still clenching the face of my watch.

  “Mother, Father,” I replied.

  Each glimpse of their faces brought sparks of panic so I kept my gaze over their shoulders as if I was checking for an ambush.

  From my peripheral I could see my mother’s spine straighten and face smooth to a pristine mask. She glided forward, taking a seat on the couch opposite me, my father following like a quiet shadow.

  “Marianne, some tea for my husband and I,” mother said.

  “At once Mistress.”

  Marianne left, and we sat in an uncomfortable silence. I could no longer feel the ticks of my watch because of the heavy beating of my heart. Therefore I missed the first time my mother called my name.

  “Monty,” she said again, her voice a bit harder.

  I met her eyes just in time to see some odd emotion be smoothed away.

  “Y-yes mother?” I croaked.

  “I must say I was hoping that you would give us prior notice of your arrival so we could prepare, though that does not mean we are displeased to see you,” she said, folding her hands over her lap.

  I couldn’t ask the things I wished, not only was it disrespectful, but also what my mind found clear was not communicated clearly through my lips. Picking up my tea I drank a sip as I contemplated what to say.

  “I recently returned from a field trip and decided to come in person as a way of apologies for my lack of reply to your correspondence,” I said.

  Mother nodded with a small smile and father let out a breath before opening his mouth to speak.

  Marianne came in then and he paused, letting her place the tea as we all sat in silence. The maid could feel the tension, as well as her intrusion, so she did her work quickly and left.

  “How is the Daybreak Dreamer Academy? We did quite a bit of research once we learned you were accepted. The field trip you mentioned was at the Forest of Living Dreams correct? That must have been something to see.”

  I was surprised they had heard of the forest before, I had thought of it as some state secret, but it was out in the open and not an underground facility, you could probably spot it from Zuva if you had a telescope.

  “Yes, it was quite the unique experience.”

  Father nodded and took a sip of his tea. When he noticed the silence begin to thrum in the air he gave mother a pointed look.

  “Well, I am sure even if you do not become a Dreamer then the experience will look great for whatever you wish to do in life. Speaking of, should you not be able to become one of them we will of course fund your way through different schooling. The Zuvan University would be best as it is closer to home, but if you wish to go to the one closer to Eichlin then that is fine.”

  I was sure I was supposed to respond, but I couldn’t. A single word bounced in my skull, ripping through my brain like a low caliber bullet. Home.

  This was not my home. The very act of me sitting here made me feel as though I was a corpse attending a wedding. However it did tell me that while they knew where I went, they didn’t know I was already a Dreamer.

  My mother sat still as a statue, but my father began to squirm in the silence. Finally I spoke.

  “Thank you, I will keep that in mind.”

  The quiet weight was back, so I lifted my tea cup and took a sip, the slight slurp giving me an odd vindictive pleasure. Like when a teacher tells the class to stay silent and a student begins to tap their pencil against their desk.

  After staring at the waving brown liquid for a few moments I lifted my gaze to my parents. Father was staring at his intertwined fingers, thumbs circling one another in a dance. Mother sat with her hands delicately placed in her lap looking out the window behind me.

  However her gaze moved mine once I looked up. Her eyes had a slight dullness to them, but she had never been much for alcohol and was by no means dimwitted. This was just how I knew her to look.

  Mother’s fingers clenched into fists and she took in a breath.

  “Monty, we think it would be best if we were no longer so distant. We are a family, and being the eldest son there are a lot of responsibilities on your shoulders. As your parents we should have done what we could to prepare you with and we failed in that regard. Perhaps you could start coming over regularly for tea? When you are not busy with classes of course, education is seen as a right in this era but in my fathers day it was a privilege. Make sure to take full advantage.”

  “Of course,” I replied, wondering when this had turned into a lecture, though I was slightly relieved at the change.

  The conversation might be as bearable as dipping my toes in boiling water, but they were trying. The hope I had burning inside me flared a little brighter.

  Then a child burst through the door yelling in a singsong voice.

  “Mother! Father! I’m Baaaack!”

  AN- I'm thinking of eventually adding some character/Nightmare art to my Patreon sometime soon. I might add Monty's here, but with how many Nightmare's I'm going to end up drawing that just seems like a hastle. Maybe a Discord one day.

  ---

  Hi, if you want to read up to 8 chapters in advance, here is a link to my Patreon.

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  If not, ignore this and instead think about the wonders of centrifugal force