Sweet's Dream

Written by World Smithy

Small hammers cracked against the alarm bells in the kitchen, signaling that the mystery Vasani dessert was ready. An intoxicatingly sweet aroma wafted through the entire bakery as Mind rolled the oven's cover to the side. Her wetted hands hissed and billowed steam when she grabbed the boiling-hot steel pan, pulling it out of the heat and onto the gray and white speckled granite countertop. A massive grin cracked the dark red skin of her face and the jewelry dangling from her horns jingled as she spun in a tight circle on her tip-toes. That dusty old recipe really worked! Who in the world would leave this recipe to rot in some spider-infested archive...?

With a flick of her tail she whirled to a stop, facing the still-scorching pan. Greeting her was a spread of crisp, golden tops inset with gooey, brown spirals. The buns still crackled and hissed as their bottoms continued to cook while she started cleaning the counter top. With practiced ease, all of the ingredients found their way home; flour to the top cupboard, cinnamon with the other spices in a drawer, and a pouch of what looked to be alabaster sand was tucked into the lockbox below the counter.

The lock clicked shut, sealing the contents away from prying eyes. Chimes placed above the back entryway of the bakery clattered and rang to life, indicating that someone is now in the breakroom. A single clomp of a boot echoed through the vacant, closed store before she heard a familiar voice announce itself, “Mindallia Sweet, you home? Thought I'd let myself in, maybe pilfer a tart or two.”

Mind's face flushed deeper than it already was from the heat and exersion of the kitchen at hearing her full name. Behind, her tail coiled itself about her left leg in embarrassment. She straightened her posture and brushed off the excess flour from her lace-trimmed apron as a cloud floated up around her. She sneezed—a tiny, cute sound more akin to a mouse's squeak than a bodily function. When she went to open her mouth to respond she caught a mouthful of the floating raw flour, causing her to cough instead.

“I'll take that as a yes!” The backdoor shut with a loud thud and more heavy bootfalls followed. Moments later, a lavendar-toned head poked itself around the door leading to the back. Standing there, now leaned against the frame, was a purple-skinned Infernal like herself. His horns curled off to either side of his head, similar to an old ram's. Simple, unadorned jewelry hung from the silver caps at the tips of them, and he was wearing a thick coat with a rough fur trim. One of his solid red eyes was covered by a worn leather eye patch and the golden scars criss-crossing about his face glimmered in the warm glow of the lantern light.

“Aetmir!” Mind exclaimed, sputtering out a puff of flour. “What have I told you about using my full name?” She stamped her left leg on the hardwood floor, still coiled tight with her tail as she waved the powdery miasma away from her face. “And what the hells are you doing here? It's four in the evening! You know I don't open for another two hours.”

She knew it wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Aetmir to break into Sweet's Sweets to grab some of the freshest pastries before the typical crowds arrived. Mind always found exact change on the front counter for any missing items, including extra he may have left if he damaged something. His favorite items to make disappear usually had berries in them and, admittedly, she may have started making a few extra of those treats every time she baked for the ensuing night. Everyone was out and about then, as the Sisters were always brighter than the sun during the day.

“Oh, come on, Sweet; you know I'm just teasing,” Aetmir said, grinning. “Just wanted to drop by to see if you invented any new treats for the unwashed masses of Slum Row.”

“Uh-huh, and you just couldn't wait until I opened the front doors?” Mind asked, crossing her arms.

“Nope! 'Cause then some Joe-Schmoe would get the best bits. Plus, I know I'm your favorite urchin,” he said, smiling to reveal off-white teeth. His own tail swished behind him as he kicked off the doorframe to saunter over to the ovens. He leaned down, looking through the cracks of those still fired and running to get a peak at what may be inside. With a deep inhale, and a sharp sniff to follow, his gaze drifted over to the large pan of rolled buns next to Mind. The eyebrow over his good eye raised and he motioned towards them with a casual wave.

“Mmm, and what are those? They smell amazing!”

“Don't know, honestly. The recipe I made them from was both in a Vasani dialect of Draconic and the name was torn off at some point.” Mind's attitude softened, and her hands dropped to find the side of her hips. Her tail unwound itself and reached up towards the counter behind her, grasping for the old parchment containing the recipe. “Found it in the archives of the local Ebon Hall buried under some manuscripts on baking techniques.”

“Didn't take you for a reader, Minny,” he teased. “What'd you call em' then?”

“I'm taking the liberty of calling them something simple; Cinnamon Rolls. I don't know a single other Sugarmason that has these in stock, and for good reason.” She took the recipe from her tail and handed it over to Aetmir. “See, it calls for sugar—real sugar—which isn't supposed to exist.”

She sighed and knelt down by the counter when she saw Aetmir's face contort in confusion. Slotting the small key into the lockbox's front, she twisted and opened the rusty, iron box. A faint metallic squeal warbled from the hinges as it relented, revealing the tightened pouch she had put away moments prior. Mind grabbed it and stood, opening and resting it on the counter next to the cinnamon rolls. Shimmering, ivory granules were visible just beneath the lip of the sack.

“Don't ask me how I got it, I've got my sources. Want one of these before they get cold?”

***

Aetmir left shortly after claiming a cinnamon roll from Mind, saying he had a fight lined up at the Grit Pit on the other side of Stahlrest's Northern Quarter. He promised to repay his still-outstanding debts with the winnings from that night, but she knew better than to hold him to it. The day whirled passed in a maelstrom of customers, both well-off and those who hadn't seen a bath in months. Exhaustion ate at Mind as she flipped the sign at the front of the bakery to 'closed' and locked the door before trudging upstairs.

She was hardly out of her dusty apron when she reached for a bottle of fortified cherry wine in a small cabinet at the top of the stairs. She tossed the garment aside onto a rusted hook and popped the loosened cork as she waltzed down the hallway, taking plugs from the bottle as she swayed. Reaching her personal room at the end of the hall, she wrenched the door open and stepped inside. A residual aroma of smoldering inscence hung heavy in the air and wisps of smoke rolled past her as she entered.

Mind found an uncluttered spot next to the incense holder for the wine bottle. Knick-knacks, trinkets, and baubles were strewn about the top of her dresser, many of them reflecting a candle's dim, dancing light back at her from shiny surfaces. Dark purple drapes obscured the only window in the room, muffling the Sol's light beaming in from the center of the city. She looked down moments before she threw herself into bed, groaning at the realization that she still wore the flour battered, cake smudged, and honey encrusted uniform of her shop.

In a whirlwind of red blurs, she disrobed, tossing the soiled clothes into a half-open hamper by the door. They landed with a soft puff of residual baking residue, only half-way in the basket with much of it draped over the side. Mind slogged to the opposite side of the room to the closet and selected a nightgown that matched the curtains, donning it. As soon as it passed her head, she took three steps back towards the bed and launched herself at it. Like a kite's string her tail trailed behind, whipping the air as she soared.

Mind landed heavily on the plush mattress covered with a pink, silken sheet and bulky comforter saturated in hand-stitched patterns. Black and red hair spilled across her pillow as she untied the ribbon keeping it up. With a contended sigh, she snuggled down into the comfort of her own bed and closed her eyes. Seconds passed and she opened one eye, focusing in on the single candle still burning on her bedside nightstand. She reached and pinched it out, allowing the darkness of both the room and sleep to claim her. Finally...

***

Reality melted away and the distant sounds of the city faded as Mind found herself drifting into a dream state. A humanoid skull flew past her and she found herself falling through the air towards a thicket of woods below. The sun above was nearly blinding to her as she crashed through the dense canopy. All manner of red, orange, and yellow leaves fluttered about her as she landed on the ground in a heap. She felt no pain, however, and quickly sat up on the cool earth.

“Never seen trees like these before... where the hell am I?”

An avian squall echoed through the dense forest and a small flock of black-feathered birds flew overhead, deeper into the thicket. Mind stood and brushed off the soil that clung to her nightgown, following the trail of birds. Light filtering in from above dimmed as the autumnal canopy swallowed the sky, blotting out the sun. Cool, crisp air kicked up into a small vortex around her, swirling the dry and crunchy leaves in circles as she walked.

After what felt like an eternity just following crowing birds, Mind spotted a massive building peeking through the underbrush. All of the ebony-hued avians exploded into a cloud of black feathers as they passed through the natural barrier. Through the torrent of down, she saw them continue to fly as little more than skeletons. A shiver ran down her spine and through to the tip of her tail at the sight, yet she continued following.

Pushing through the foliage, Mind was greeted with a massive stone facade of what looked to be a cross between a mausoleum and a library. Immaculate marble steps led up to a pair of arched double doors, both adorned with human skulls for knockers. Each skull was biting down on a scroll and had cut obsidian stones for eyes. Both the skulls and the skeletal birds seemed to watch her as she ascended the steps, peering into her very soul. When she reached the top, the skull on the right animated and dropped the metallic scroll from its maw.

“An' who's this lovely lady? Master didn't say he was expecting company,” it said dryly.

“What? Where am I? Who do you mean when you say master?” she spit questions at the boney door knocker faster than she could process them. “Am I dreaming?” She pinched herself, hard; there was no sharp sting of finger nails digging into her own skin. Is this one of those lucid dreams...?

“Aww, we 'ave a live one! Rare 'round these parts, Miss!” it said, rocking back and forth on the face of the door. “Can't be here for the Master, then; he's not the type to mingle with fleshies.”

A slow stream of bone-chilling air roiled out from under the door as the skull spoke. Gray mist began to spill out with it, slowly filling the floorspace around the entrance. The doorknocker next to the animated skull jerked to life, dropping the metallic scroll just as the first one did to free the jaw. Its eyes turned from light-consuming black obsidian stones to bright, fiery red, polished rubies and it spoke towards Mind.

“Lady Sweet, I beg you pardon the dolt bolted to the threshold. I entreat but a moment of your time; step within, and we shall converse in a more fitting manner, where words may breathe as they should.”

***

Mind sat at the opposite end of a long, mahogany table draped in black cloths decorated with various bones from a multitude of different species. Skulls were the dominant centerpieces, all of which were humanoid. A giant's skull situated on the wall to her right radiated a dim, orange light that cast shadows of teeth across her end of the table. Her entire body was shivering with nervous anticipation, her tail a dead giveaway as it quietly thumped at the ground behind her seat. Then, He appeared, floating through a doorway at the front of the dining hall.

The figure wore a simple, unadorned brown robe with a thick rope tied at the waist. A drooping hood hid its visage from her as it entered, but she noticed that its hands were little more than bare bones. Around the neck was a simple amulet consisting of a familiar sight; a stark-white skull with its jaw clamped around a scroll. No footsteps could be heard, nor legs moved beneath the robes; instead, it seemed to coast over the lush, red carpet of the room towards its seat at the opposite end.

“I trust you recognize the gravitas of such visitations, Lady Mindallia Sweet?” Its ivory hand reached up and pulled the obscuring hood back, revealing a bleached, humanoid skull that grinned at her. Inset deep within its eye sockets were two pinpoints of dark, red light, reminiscent of her own hues. Mind felt oddly comforted at the sight of the now-exposed skeleton. No way this is an Aspect, nope, nuh-uh, not a chance!

“You surmised correctly, young one. Indeed, I am Aspect of Lore, Bheniin; Keeper, Exarch—God.”

Mind's jaw dropped and she stammered incoherently for a moment. She blinked, stunned in disbelief that such an entity would visit someone, much less in a dream. Gripping the table, she made the attempt to bring herself back to whatever reality she was curently inhabiting. Not only did He just answer the question she was thinking to herself, he also admitted which one he was specifically. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she leaned forward, her tail tracing patterns into the carpet beneath her chair.

“Right, so, if you're really him, the Keeper or whatever, prove it! What happened to my parents three years ago?”

“Their stories have yet to conclude to my knowledge,” Bheniin smiled at her, looking straight into her eyes. “I shall not know their fate for some time. My colleague, inevitable as they are, only rarely visits to indulge these ancient bones a new fable whilst the leaves of their tome remain blank.”

Mind froze in place. She was just assaulted with the information that, not only were her parents still alive out there, but also that the skeleton sitting at the end of the table really was Bheniin. Coughing awkwardly, she cleared her throat and leaned back in her seat. Her fingers were still tangled in the tablecloth as she tried to blink away the information overload. Bones scraped against one another as Bheniin clasped his hands together.

“Forgive my lack of proper decorum," he said, his chiseled mandible unmoving, “my duties have grown stale in recent centuries, partly due to my lack of champions in this era.” The lights at the back of his sockets brightened, flared, and grew almost blinding for several seconds. Mind continued her pattern of blinking as her vision returned to an unfamiliar visage sitting across from her. The table seemed to have been significantly shortened, and the robed figure sat a mere five feet from her now.

Glaring back at her was an elderly human man with a thin whisp of snowy hair clinging to the top of his scalp. The two eye sockets were filled with actual eyes, their irises glowing a dim scarlet in the flickering candle light from the giant's skull on the wall. His robes were upgraded slightly, in-so-much as they were no longer simple, brown burlaps; he now wore a luxurious, brown silken robe adorned with all manner of skull and bone iconography. A pendant cast in rose gold of an open tome facing Mind dangled from his neck and swayed as he spoke, his voice wavering just above a whisper.

“I choose you, Lady Mindallia Sweet, as my charge, my Witness.”

Bheniin waved his left hand above the table and two, domed platters appeared before each of them. They were made of flawless and burnished silver, clean enough for their reflections to be mirror perfect. Two, blue spectral hands apparated in small puffs of smoke above each of the domes, grabbing the small knob at the top. With a brief slide of metal on metal, they lifted to reveal a single warm, glistening cinnamon roll waiting for each of them, drenched in icing.

“What?!” Mind exclaimed. “Are you telling me you've been watching me this whole time? How did you know I just made these; hells, they haven't been made in... you know how long!” she pointed at him, half teasing, half accusing.

“Perhaps. To satiate your query: the moment you opened the archive containing the recipe,” he grinned at her, red gums vibrant against his perfect, white teeth. “I'm known among my colleagues to have a dreadful sweet tooth, and you baked my favorite treat to be wrought from the realm of mortals.”

“Oh,” Mind said, relaxing her posture as she leaned forward to enjoy the sweet confection in front of her. “Well, I can't say no, huh? Can I call you Benny?!”