http://anam.keltik.net/ravlib/archlib/Storylines- DWSTheNigh10011101515.html
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After an hour, Ariana stopped climbing and leaned against the stone wall, panting. She slid down and sat on a step, leaning her back against the wall; standing was too precarious here, with the spiral steps so narrow and steep. She rolled her eyes, muttering to herself under her breath. “Just had to make it ridiculously hard, didn’t you? Not like it matters for most here; I’m sure the tower changes as needed—for nightmares, at any rate.” That was the problem, really. Ariana was the Guardian of the Dreamworld, mistress of its secrets—but for all that, she was still a human girl, and even in the Dreamworld she was certainly not omnipotent. She couldn’t control the Dreamworld with a thought, and while she could often transport herself nearly anywhere she liked within the Dreamworld, it still required a degree of control and knowledge of both her location and her destination. Here, in the nightmare realms, she knew little of where she was or where she was going, and ultimately, the Lord of Nightmares simply had more control. Whether or not he actually knew Ariana was here, reality in his tower would still bend itself to impede her progress, sensing the magic of dreams within her.
After she had gotten her breath, Ariana stood up straight, straightened her blue-and-green robes, and began to climb again. To anyone watching, she was still no more than a faint glimmer of light, but she could see herself and her surroundings well enough, even though the torches in brackets along the wall were few and far between. By now her eyes had grown fairly accustomed to the darkness.
Lift one leg, straighten, lift the other, straighten. Ariana closed her eyes as she climbed, thinking of anything but the long, endless struggle upwards. Unbidden, but certainly not unexpected, a face came to her mind. What was he seeing now? But a moment’s concentration told her. She was more than a little worried. For a long time now, whenever she saw through Calan’s eyes, she had seen nothing but blackness. Sometimes she saw visions and dreams, often of herself, so she knew he was not dead, not yet, at least. But for him to have been unconscious for so long… It was more than a little disturbing, and it made her purpose here and now even more urgent. She watched the images in her mind for a few moments—this time she saw the inn of RavensDale, and herself and her friends of old seated around a table, drinking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company. She saw Calan, herself, Flint, and Jessie; there were also glimpses of Isaac Draco, Sentressa the DreamWarrior, and others who Calan had known better than Ariana had. The memories made her smile, but the smile faded as she thought of where she was, and why. Furrowing her brow in a determined frown—I will not give up—she pushed the visions of Calan’s dreams to the back of her mind, where she had learned to stow them away, ever since the gypsy Mia had first cast that curse on her. Until she and Calan saw each other again, she would see, in the back of her mind, whatever he saw. Ariana hoped that the end of that curse would come soon, but she could not know what this confrontation would result in, so she tried not to hope too much. Better to be surprised and overjoyed than to have her hopes dashed yet again.
One would have expected the stairway to end, eventually; most likely Ariana should have found two great, double doors at the top, as intricately carved as the front gate, and likely even more forbidding. The Lord of Nightmares had a rather twisted sense of humor, however. While the stairway still spiraled away dizzyingly above her, Ariana stopped. There was a small, unobtrusive doorway to her left, on the outside of the spiral. It was plain, dark wood, just high and wide enough for her to pass through, with a small, simple handle of plain, unpolished metal. It was the first door she had seen on her way up, during a climb which had taken at least an hour and a half so far. It wasn’t just the oddity of the door that made her stop, either. Her senses heightened by her borrowed and strengthened magic, Ariana could sense something beyond that door. This might lead to the Lord of Nightmares’ lair; it was worth investigating, at least. She gently pulled at the handle, and the door swung silently open, revealing a walkway beyond it. The bridge-like walkway was of cold, hard stone, with wait-high railings along the side. On the other side was another turret of the great tower; below, darkness and rock spun away to endless depths. The sky above was dark, dismal gray, the gray of late afternoon when the clouds are so heavy that only the thinnest trace of sunlight can filter through, and the scent of coming rain is thick in the air. The air seemed to press down on Ariana, like heavy hands on her shoulders. She stood straighter, however, remembering her purpose and defying the nightmares of the place to turn her resolve. I’m not afraid of you, she thought fiercely. I have more at stake than you can imagine, and you won’t find me so easy to scare off. Squaring her shoulders, she strode off across the dark, stone bridge, her leggings and robes swishing softly against each other.
On the other side was another door, small and dark like the last one. Ariana cautiously pushed it open, then stood blinking in surprise. Bright, golden candle and lamplight shone warmly on her face, as the first large, icy droplets of rain begain to patter on her loose, unbound, ash-blond hair. She stared in confusion as the dark shape in the cozy, comfortable room turned around to look at her from where he stood by the fire. He had a young face; apparently he was in his late twenties. A narrow, neatly trimmed black beard adorned that face, as well as a thin, dignified mustache. The face was narrow as well, with short, black hair, finely chiseled features, elegantly sloping black eyebrows, and piercing, deeply dark-blue eyes. He looked Ariana up and down, arching one of those eyebrows in a perfectly quizzical expression. Flashing handsome, white teeth, he smiled pleasantly—too pleasantly—at her. “Ah, good evening, my lady of dreams. I have been…expecting you. Please, take a seat.”
Ariana’s heart sank. Not only had she lost the element of surprise, apparently—the main reason she had defied her friends’ wishes and likely horribly upset them by leaving on this journey without taking them along, or even telling them she was going—but the Lord of Nightmares was being friendly to her. This was not a good sign at all.
“Come in, my dear. Come out of the rain before you are soaked. As you can see, the fire is quite warm and pleasant.”
Ariana stepped silently into the room, steeling herself. Very well, she would meet this challenge alone. She had gotten herself into this situation, and she would get herself out of it. As she stepped in, the door swung closed behind her, slamming with a deep, booming, ominous sound that belied its small size and defied the silence with which it had opened before. She was not afraid. She was not frightened. …All right, so I’m scared silly.
But Calan needs me. I can’t let him down.
She arched an eyebrow. ~I can do that, too; it’s not as impressive as you make it out to be.~ “You wished to speak with me?”
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