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From the docks, across the Bazaar and streets and all the way up to that Kelemvor’s temple and Temple of the Three, people were celebrating.

The Wychlaran had confirmed the final death of the age old ravenous curse. It will be back to trouble this land no more. The spirits and people could finally breathe in peace.

Or it could have just been a reason to throw a party.

After having the Bear God’s army at their doorstep and the bearer of the legendary curse strolling down their streets, the people of Mulsantir probably needed it. Though true celebration was out there in the wilds of Rashemen, among the spirits who were the true victims of Akachi.

Aneele, for her part, was trying hard to look as inconspicuous as possible as she tried to find her way through the crowd without getting squashed by large men. Small, tiny, gray colored elf wasn’t too noticeable and only few with whom she had had contact before recognized her at all. But apart from few exchanged greetings she didn’t stay at one place for long.

She didn’t know where she was going, except that she was looking for a secluded place while everyone wined and dined. She ran her fingers across three pouches on her belt, all three were expensive bags of holding.

One was filled with the gold she had earned from selling almost all of her handcrafted items. The second contained the Silver Sword and Myrkul’s Wrath along with other wondrous items she had created and decided to keep. And the last one had all the necessities for a travel – just in case her plan doesn’t work.

Yes, she was running away again. Nothing new really.

She looked over the Mulsantir Gate. Could the guards have been told to look out for the small elf? Not that Safiya or Gann knew her well enough to come to such conclusion, unless she had done or said something to draw suspicion.

Okku knew what she was going to do and, thankfully, he understood. The cub sometimes had to leave the pack and walk the path of its own making, he said. Aneele knew what he meant, and was grateful for the advice he had whispered to her. She will really miss the old bear, his grumpy kindness and colorful fur. And since she liked it so much he even allowed her to take a lock of it with her. Though he was flattered, as any animal was where their fur was concerned, he didn’t quite understand it why she enjoyed it so much. Aneele didn’t know either, she just knew she did.

Shaking her head she looked in direction of the Sloop. The Shadow Plane? Did Safiya monitor it? Not possible. Aneele knew was just acting paranoid now. And it wasn’t like she needed an empty town. A secluded corner would do.

“Aneele?” A slightly insecure but musical voice addressed her and the elf whipped around in surprise.

Not far from her stood Anya, clothed in festive dress of sunny colours and décolleté low-cut just enough to tease but not look indecent. Her hair was decorated with braids and flowers and she had a sparkle in her eyes. A beautiful girl in prime of her youth attending the festival.

She was everything thin, scarred and battered Aneele was not.

“It is you, isn’t it?” Insecurity gone she approached the elf with a merry step. Aneele had an urge to take a step back. “You accompanied Gannayev when he freed me from the prison of my dream.”

A prison of your own making, she nearly said but held back and cracked a small smile. Well, he did free her in the end, explained some things even.

“That would be me, yes.”

“I would have hardly guessed. You looked so stern and lifeless back then. You look better now,” Anya smiled flipping her heavy chestnut hair slightly. Aneele grit her teeth. Strict? Lifeless? All good ways to describe her emotionless state. Not that she needed any reminding, thank you.

“And I am glad to see you awake. Your father was very worried for your life,” Aneele said trying to sound pleasant. That was another thing that Gann will never forgive her, forcing him to apologize to Anya’s father in the manner that she did. But that was hardly important now. “Are you and your father here to join in on celebration?”

“Yes!” She exclaimed happily clapping her hands together. The amount of good mood the girl radiated was not sitting well with elf’s pessimistic thoughts. “I don’t get to go to town often but this festival wasn’t something we could simply miss. Even the spirits near our farm are rejoicing. We had not heard them sing such pleasant songs for a long time,” she sighed happily.

Aneele sighed for an entirely different reason. The spirits probably stopped singing the moment she walked out of the barrow.

“Have you seen Gannayev?” The girl asked looking around many male faces, a pretty rosy blush spreading across her cheeks.

For a moment Aneele paused feeling confused and sad, before gesturing up the street under the archway to where the great bonfire was.

“Last time I saw him he was talking to Nak’kai, the local shaman…” But when she looked back at the girl she saw her staring at her bony hand, a good portion of color fleeing her face. Aneele had a mix of reactions to this, from guilty pleasure to feeling of reality biting her where it hurts when she made the choice to keep her arm the way it is now.

She placed her hand back in her pocket and forced a smile.

“Go on. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

At the mention of pretty hagspawn her eyes lit up once more and with a small smile of her own and a muttered ‘thank you’ she moved through the crowd with an ease, drawing the attention of many men, and a few women, the way only a dreamwalker could.

Once out of sight Aneele took a deep breath. If she wasn’t careful enough she might end up in a deep depression. She was not a dreamwalker, she was no longer a comely girl and the sooner her heart accepted what her mind knew already it would be better. Her chances for a normal happy life were just about as possible as Anya going unnoticed in the crowd.

Aneele frowned. She needed a private spot. Preferably now.

Twenty minutes later Aneele was leaning against the side of a stone house right next to the city wall, her mind filled with angry dark thoughts. Behind her, in thickening shadows, the summoning circle was slowly fading away.

She was robbed. There was no other way to explain it. Her masks, Eyes of the Coven and Lesser Eyes of the Coven, along with a number of other items crafted from unique essences had passed to that greedy devil. She had flat out refused to barter for the Silver Sword and Myrkul’s Wrath, those things cost her far too much on personal level to simply hand them over. Not to mention that she had to struggle not to have her heavily enchanted tunic removed as well.

One thing was certain, Mephasm was a rotting thief. And if Neeshka was truly a descendant of his then it was no small wonder she took such pleasure in robbing people blind.

Aneele looked down at the dainty glass bottle in her hand.

But in the end, it was worth emptying her entire pouch for it. Mephasm informed her that once the glass was broken she would be transported to Sword Coast, somewhere near Neverwintar or Crossroads Keep, as she specified it.

Mulling her decision to leave without saying anything in her head, she thought that at least Safiya deserved know about it. After all, the wizardess had been through much in order to help her – though much of it was forced by her own creator.

That wasn’t to say that Gann had come out unscratched, it was just that Aneele didn’t like thinking about Gann. Thinking about the hagspawn meant she would have to think about certain things she didn’t want to think about in the first place. Her soul was not stitched back together in right places just yet to think about those things.

Therefore by her logic of things, Gann was to be avoided like plague.

Not the most grateful behavior considering that he did follow her to the City of Judgment, one of several places in the planes you don’t want to be, and he did help her with Akachi, but the way he behaved towards her made her feel increasingly uncomfortable and far too hopeful.

She was certain that somewhere along the way the hagspawn had made a confusion in his mind, mistaking curiosity and gratitude for accidentally helping him with genuine feelings even she knew nothing about.

Aneele rubbed her forehead cursing her indecision. It was going to kill her faster than a stray arrow. Second time.

A pair of Wychlaran witches passed by her interrupting her conflicted thoughts. Katya and Kazimika, who still disliked her foreign hide and didn’t bother to hide it, but she acted civilly enough. She had to squeeze greetings and gratitude through her teeth though, and that had to have hurt. Pleasantries completed they were on their way into the night.

This brought another reason for hurried departure. She couldn’t stand being looked as the spirit-eater anymore. The accusing looks she was receiving even now from the people who recognized her were defeating. She did not want to deal with that kind of thing anymore. She didn’t want be seen as a villain anymore. Rashemen was not the place where she could settle down.

She needed to find Safiya.

And that wasn’t a hard task to do. She was the only young woman in the crowd who had her head covered. Help or not, she was still a Thayan and thus highly unpopular among the locals. One good deed, even a great one, will not undo centuries of hate.

Aneele found her sitting near the great bonfire with a good view on the singing bards and storytellers.

“Are you enjoying yourself or are Thayan parties a better sight to be seen,” the elf girl asked approaching. Safiya arched an eyebrow in the typical manner of a professor about to imprint knowledge.

“Thayan parties are certainly flashier, although guests usually don’t wake up at all rather then just with a simple headache. I find Reshemi celebrations to be more hospitable in that regard. Their hospitability fails in other areas I’m afraid.”

“If that means that you’re enjoying yourself then it is good. You have earned it,” Aneele said with a laugh.

“Well so do you after-”

“Please! No more mentioning of Akachi. Let the poor man rest in peace,” Aneele interrupted gesturing with her hands that it was a dead-end conversation. Safiya smiled.

“You still keep your eye covered,” Safiya gestured at her large eye patch. Aneele touched the leather lightly.

“Yeah… It… still feels strange to be able to see on both eyes. I just need more practice.” And by practice she meant that she should really learn how not to see people’s emotions and dreams floating around them. Having an eye of a hag who could waltz into one’s dream with impunity was proving to be a distraction. Not to mention she could only use its abilities while awake. No dreamwalking for her still.

“Besides, that’s not why I walked across half the town,” the elf said opening one of her non-raided bags. She pulled out a small pouch made of fine leather and handed it over to the wizardess.

Taking it up Safiya looked at her funnily. What fell out when she opened it was a ring of old fabrication but brought to life by skillful crafting hand. To Safiya it looked incredibly familiar.

“It belonged to the Founder,” Aneele explained. “It was Akachi’s gift to her, and she had given it to me before we left. It was broken but I used some brilliant and pristine-”

Her speech involving many intricate detail of spirit-crafting was interrupted when Safiya hugged her quite suddenly and quite fireclay.

“Thank you,” she whispered holding her tightly. Even if Akachi was personally unknown to her, the Founder was still a mother figure in her life. It was still because of Founder’s, Nefris’, dedication to her love that she now existed. One could even say that Akachi was more her father than a memory of a distant lover. And strangely enough, Aneele understood it.

“It is a precious gift for her and I will treasure it.”

“Of course you will,” Aneele smiled fiddling with another small pouch, this one however made her feel much more uncomfortable now. “And would you hand this to him, please,” she managed pushing the pouch in her hands. Safiya looked at it, mind wrapping around the word ‘him,’ before bursting out laughing.

“Safiya,” she hissed. “Don’t laugh. You know I can’t give it to him.”

“Why ever not? He’d certainly appreciate it.” Feeling around the pouch she could feel it

“He’d think it’s an invitation or worse, a confession!” Aneele raved. Her still sickly condition luckily prevented too much unwanted invitation. “I dread saying ‘thank you’ to him. He might misinterpret it for ‘I love you’ instead.”

“And you don’t?”

“I know him. I understand him. And much to my chagrin, like any other girl in Mulsantir, I do find him attractive. I, however, do not love him,” she tried to put into words her own conflicting emotions. She doubted she could trust them full after having none for months.

Safiya pushed the bag back in elf’s hands.

“Then you will tell that to him. The issue needs to be settled, and now is as good opportunity as ever. Now,” she placed her arm around the elf’s shoulders, “I know I have seen him- Oh…”

Safiya made a sound. It was the type of sound made prophesized bad things on the horizon.

“What?” Aneele asked wobbling between gathering her nerve and loosing it.

Ahead of them Gann was walking through the crowd, for once not being totally speared by the looks of other men. Next to him, or better said around him, Anya moved light foot, almost dancing while chatting happily about something. And if his expression was anything to go by it had to subject they were both equally interested in.

Dreamwalking, Aneele guessed. One big, important thing they had in common. She could see it now, ‘A 1001 way to make or brake dreams,’ by Gannayev and Anya.

“I didn’t expect this. Him letting girl fawn over him like that,” Safiya said frowning lightly.

“Why shouldn’t he? He obviously enjoys the attention. He always has,” Aneele said feeling finally defeated. Safiya wanted to say something but at that moment Anya wrapped her arms around the hagspawn’s neck and yanked him down in a solid, deep and very much real kiss.

Safiya’s hand paused in air halfway to her lips while Aneele felt the emotion of the intensity equal to that of Hunger.

She wasn’t keen to sit and wait to see how long it would take them to disentangle. She just dropped the pouch in Safiay’s lap and stood up.

“I can’t stomach the wine being served,” she said passing Safiya stiffly. “I am going to bed.”

“Very well,” the wizardess responded not forcing the fact that Aneele rarely drank wine and had none this evening.

Part way up to Sheva’s house, among berserkers drunk and merry, girls who danced and sang loudly and witches who have decided that relaxation was allowed for one evening, no one heard the cracking of glass, or spotted an impossibly small blue cloud of smoke, or even an empty space where there was none before.

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Fin

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So there we have it, the final chapter of “Hungry Dreams”. I hope you all enjoyed this story that had successfully managed to eat me inside out :) Perhaps I shall continue the tale of Aneele or perhaps not. I think people would get sick of her.

Please review if you have the time now that the tale is complete and, until next story…