Velentham caught Sanria as she fell into his arm, deep in a magically induced sleep. 'Thank the Gods,' he thought as he shuffled over to the bed and dropped her onto it. Beside her, he flopped onto the bed, his feet hanging over the end. That would be the first thing he'd enjoy about being back in his own plane - a bed that fit his long body, and a woman who wasn't asking him questions.
Sleep wound tightly around him, and Velentham found himself in a vivid dream. Both he and Sanria walked along a path, sometimes flying, sometimes using their feet, through grasslands and forests. To the north was a high mountain range capped with snow, but they were moving toward a place long forgotten. Sanria kept her arm around him, his adoring follower, as they arrived at a keep blasted under by time. They stopped at a crumbled heap of stone which Velentham moved aside, revealing a long stairway that descended into darkness. They went down into the bowels of the keep, through corridors, until they came upon a gigantic circular room. There, a portal sat, and he looked over at his adoring charge. "Here I can talk to my father from the past, and here he can tell us how to get home." He walked over to the portal and Velentham could sense the energies that merely waited for the right combination of powers to call them to convergence. He put his hands on the two crystals and shot pure energies into their glistening forms. Then he spoke the words...
Velentham sat bolt upright, breathing heavily and sweating. He looked over to his side - Sanria was still there, sleeping peacefully. Then he got up and walked to the window. Time had certainly passed, how much time he didn't know, but he at least had some semblance of his old self. His fatigue wasn't crushing, but was still present, to a minor degree. He looked back at Sanria. She wouldn't wake until he lifted her from the spell. He thought back to the dream. He could sense it had been a message. If this place was real, if he could go back in time to talk to his father, he would know how to traverse the planes, and he could take himself and his wife home.
Still, like a dragon, he stared at his prize and felt sick at the thought of leaving her unattended. He let out a deep sigh and chanted a few words. The walls of the room shimmered blue, then faded, as did Velentham's body. None could get into this space, none would even see the door. He walked to the bed and gave a deep kiss to the sleep-soft lips of his lover, then, casting invisibility, walked out into the city. He would get answers from someone - even if he had to give down to his last platinum piece. He grinned as the voice of his father spoke his own thoughts, "You're getting closer."
