The Orb hovered over the eastern horizon as the evening approached. The daylight had brought more heat than was normal, and many sought places to forget the day’s troubles with a hearty meal and a cold, refreshing drink. A popular place was the Charmed Tavern run by Athan and Lorayla Charm. The heat had drawn in many patrons who sat at rugged, circular wood tables enjoying their food and drink. The tavern’s warm air was saturated with the aromas of fried fish, flotams, and spices. The scents were mouthwateringly torturous for some who anxiously awaited their food.

“Five more orders of fish and flots. One of those with flots extra crispy,” Lorayla cried over the counter. She picked up some ready plates and hustled to deliver them to hungry customers. Fish and flots was the only dish the tavern served since Athan’s wife had passed away. It was the only dish he could remember from his wife’s recipes.

“Aye, coming right up,” replied Athan, who was already hard at work filling several other orders. He began the new orders by quickly slicing some fish and flotams and tossing them into a wide skillet covered by a layer of oil and a secret mix of spices.

Lorayla hurried back to the counter, expecting to see more ready plates, but none waited for her. She shook her head. “Gosh, I wish he could cook faster,” she said under her breath. “Momi always had a special way of cooking quickly and still making it delicious.” She took a cloth from her fish- and flots-stained apron and wiped beads of sweat from her brow.

An elf leaned over the counter in her direction. Behind him lay several rugged barrels mounted on their sides, ready to be tapped. “Is that distress I see?” asked the elf, adjusting his circular glasses. “It doesn’t become your fine face.”

Lorayla looked at the short-haired elf and sighed. “Hey, Snider. Pappi seems to be taking his time, as always, and we have a lot of hungry customers.”

“Relax,” suggested Snider, shrugging his shoulders. “As I look around, I don’t see anyone with an angry face. Most are here because of what you do. But still, the food is worth the wait.”

Lorayla hinted a smile. “And you, too! There aren’t many who can churn manzle cider like you do.”

“I’ll toast to that,” the elf said cheerfully, raising a cup of manzle cider and taking a quick sip.

“Here you go! Piping hot!” Athan shouted, handing four ready plates to Snider, who quickly passed them to Lorayla. Snider watched the red-haired woman hurry away with the food.

“You’re slain!” Snider heard from the bar side of the counter. The elf glanced at the bar but saw no one there. He turned his gaze downward and saw a little person who wore a small leather satchel that hung at his side by a strap that went across his chest and over his shoulder. The wingless fairy sat on one of the bar seats with his legs crossed, shaking his head. Snider laughed to himself, recognizing the comment had come from a fymph, who was a tavern regular.

“Pfft. Hardly,” replied Snider, taking another sip from his cup and glaring over the counter at the fymph.

“Admit it,” pressed the fymph.

Snider’s glare became more menacing. “Enough, Ceecil, someone may hear,” he commanded just above a whisper.

Ceecil laughed. “Anyone in here with half a brain would know you are slain over her if they saw the way you drool every time she walks away from the counter.”

Snider huffed through his nose and straightened his posture. “That’s…not true. Anyway, are you here for some cider or just to goad me?”

The fymph reached into his satchel and put on some leather gloves with inlaid green crystals. The crystals glowed, and an expansive mist covered him. When it dissipated, Ceecil was sitting in his chair in full human size. He placed a small stack of koins on the counter. “Make it extra cold, no ice.”

Snider walked to one of the barrels and opened its tap into a large, pint-sized cup. The blue crystals in one of his fingerless gloves started to glow, and blue wind swirled around the cup. The manzle inside the cup chilled as it slowly churned and became frothy. The wind disappeared, and Snider placed the cup before Ceecil. The elf attendant slid the stack of koins off the counter and into his hand, noting that the value of the koins was more than what was necessary for a cup of cider.

“Also paying for a dream, eh?” asked Snider, looking down at the green crystal inlaid into the wood counter near Ceecil. “You don’t normally pay for a dream. Most want a dream to either forget something, or perhaps remember. So, which is it?”

Ceecil didn’t answer.

Snider picked up a clean cup and began to dry it with a small towel. “Maybe you want to dream of Lorayla because you’re afraid I’m going to steal her before you get the chance?” Snider joked.

Ceecil wrinkled his lips. “I’d rather not discuss it right now. I’d like the wound to mend some first.”

 “I see,” Snider replied understandingly. “What kind of dream would you have Lorayla create anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Family…” Ceecil rolled his eyes. “Friends…” He pinched his lips. “Together…” He picked up his cup. “That’s all.” The fymph took a long drink from his cup.

“Hey, slow down,” cautioned Snider. “You know you can’t drink it like that. You’ll pass out in mere seconds.” The magical properties of the drink were too strong for anyone to consume except in sips. There were rumors of what those properties were, but since no one could figure them out exactly, most everyone accepted the drink for its delicious, fizzy taste and as a measure to show off one’s strength in magical concentration. The more magical concentration one had, the more they could drink—fymphs were usually exceptional in this area.

“Thanks for the lecture, mother,” Ceecil said sarcastically. “But my concentration is much higher than you think...I’ll be fine.”

“Whatever,” said Snider. “Don’t blame me if you get manzled and end up on the floor. Small sips, sir, small sips.”

The tavern’s front door swung open abruptly, and a chilly, misty breeze swept through the room, dissipating as quickly as it came. Some of the guests thought they saw purple in the wind and looked at Lorayla and Snider, thinking it had been a magical occurrence of their doing. The two looked at the door, perplexed, before glancing around the room and then at each other. Snider shrugged at Lorayla.

She raised her hands, shaking her head as she approached the door. She went to shut the door but discovered she couldn’t fully close it. Lorayla looked down and saw a dark leather boot in between the door and its frame. She opened the door just enough to see a figure covered by a well-worn hood and cloak.

“If you’re coming in, you need to remove your hood. We don’t serve faceless customers,” Lorayla said boldly.

The figure reluctantly lowered his hood, revealing a dark, earth-toned face and silver-spiked hair. “Let me pass.”

“Certainly,” said Lorayla, making room for the stranger to enter.

“I’d like a table to myself,” the man said bluntly.

“We don’t have any empty tables. You’ll have to—”

The man dropped a large purse of koin into Lorayla’s hand. “Make it happen.”

“Su…sure,” she said, astonished by the weight of the satchel in her hands. “Wait here a moment, please.” She stepped over to the counter and handed Snider the purse.

“Wow,” said Snider, shaking the purse and making the many koins inside jingle. “Is that all from porcupine-head over there? What does he want?”

“A table,” Lorayla huffed through her mouth, “all for himself.”

“And how do you plan to do that? There aren’t any available.”

“Watch and learn,” Lorayla said with a smirk. She stepped over to a table that hosted three humans in one of the tavern’s corners. The regular patrons were busy writing and had sheets of parchment scattered about the table.

“Jay’di… Dani… Dougi,” the woman said, her charming and kind demeanor completely capturing their attention. The three considered her request, communing briefly, then nodded at each other.

Snider’s jaw dropped as he watched them quickly gather their belongings and settle at another table already hosting other customers.

Lorayla waved at the newcomer. He walked over and sat down at the table. He looked at the eight green crystals inlaid and locked evenly around the table’s circular edge, then gazed down at the one closest to him and laid a hand on it.

“So, how does this work?” asked the man.

“You’ve never done this before?” Lorayla asked, surprised.

“Should I have?”

Lorayla took a deep breath, remembering her father’s advice about being patient with customers. “Close your eyes and begin to daydream about whatever it is you want. I do my part by putting you in a dream state with full control of your dream,” she explained.

“No one is going to pickpocket me while I’m dreaming?”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Well then,” the man said, shifting his eyes, “let’s begin. I want to get my koin’s worth.” The man closed his eyes and got comfortable in his chair.

“Very well. But before we start, tell me your name,” said Lorayla.

“Why does that matter? You’re getting your koins!”

“Because to leave your dream, you must say your name—your real name.”

The man looked up at the ceiling and bit his lip. “Thoron,” he managed between clenched teeth.

“Right,” said Lorayla. “Close your eyes again and daydream.” She waited until the man’s eyes were closed before reaching out to the green crystal before him. The green crystals inlaid in her glove glowed briefly, causing the crystal before Thoron to come to life with light. Green mist materialized around it, and Lorayla used her hand to weave a misty trail to the man’s head.

“Thoron, imagine what you desire. Say your name, and your dream will expire.”

The man relaxed further in his chair as he began to dream.

Lorayla sighed and walked over to the counter where plates of hot fish and flots were waiting to be served.

“Hey, you pulled that off nicely,” Snider said in an upbeat tone.

“I guess,” replied Lorayla, picking up the plates. “Have you seen Zaniel at all tonight? It’s not like him to not show up at his usual time.”

Snider cleared his throat while receiving more plates from Athan. “We have all these customers, and you’re worried about just one?” he grumbled in a whisper, setting the plates onto the counter.

“Yes, I am,” Lorayla said sternly. “Just let me know if he slips in. He has a habit of doing that, like we’re playing a game of hide and seek.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Snider said unenthusiastically. “Oh, and when you get a chance, Ceecil here would like to dream.”

Ceecil turned and winked, nearly falling out of his chair from his dizziness.

“He’ll be okay by the time you return,” Snider reassured her.

Lorayla shook her head and went on with her work, serving the tavern’s customers throughout the night until very late. When it came time for closing, only Ceecil and Thoron were left.

“I’m going to take manzle-fairy upstairs and put him in a room,” said Snider, looking down at the passed out fymph he carried in one hand. Ceecil had drunk too much cider too quickly and, after passing out, resumed his normal small size. “I’ll cover the tab for his room.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll just put it on his tab. It’s not like he never pays,” said Lorayla. “Zaniel didn’t show up, did he?”

“No,” Snider said, suppressing the satisfied smile that threatened to spread across his lips.  “He was probably caught up in that business of his.”

“Yeah, probably,” sighed Lorayla. “Anyway, what about him?” She nodded in Thoron’s direction.

“I don’t know, this has never happened before. Wake him, I guess, and ask him to leave.”

“But if I do that, I risk invading his privacy.”

“We’re closed,” Snider said emphatically while stepping up the creaky, wooden staircase.

Lorayla tip-toed closer to Thoron, placing her hand just above his face. The crystals on her glove lit up with power. “Thoron,” she said uncomfortably, looking away. Visions entered her mind of a kingdom of wyrms ruled by a person that looked like Thoron.

The man suddenly woke and jumped from his chair. “What happened? Why am I back already?”

“It’s closing time, sir,” Lorayla said matter-of-factly. “You didn’t hear my voice? I gave you several messages.”

“Ah, yes. In my dream, one of my subjects spoke like you do, but I didn’t pay them any attention.”

“Your subjects? You mean one of those dragon-looking things?”

“You…You saw?” Thoron said with a tinge of anger.

“Only a glimpse when I woke you,” the woman said, stepping back a few paces.

“I thought what I dreamed would be private!” Thoron said heatedly.

Athan, still wearing his cooking apron, came up behind his daughter and put an arm around her. “It’s time for you to be going, sir,” he said calmly. “You paid a hefty sum for our services. Therefore, you can return tomorrow and continue your dream at no cost. We’ll even throw in a plate of fish and flots, if you like.”

“Bah!” grumbled the silver-haired man, replacing the hood over his head and storming out the door.

Lorayla sighed in relief. “Thank you, Pappi.”

“Don’t mention it, Dolli,” the man said, dropping his arm from around her. “I’m going to wash the dishes now. You go ahead and get cleaned up and rest. You’re going to need your strength—we’re doing this all again tomorrow. And I can’t wait, because I get to do it with you.”

Lorayla bear-hugged her father before he returned to the kitchen. She began to walk away from Thoron’s table, but a glimmer caught her attention. There, resting on his chair, was a thin purple object. Looking closer, she discovered it was a purple crystal. She had heard rumors of such crystals and that death followed them. Yet, she had always been curious of their potential, especially since she had heard whispers from many of her patrons about their power helping a magic user advance quickly in their skills. She was intrigued, to say the least, about how these purple crystals might enhance her own skill.