"Asha, do you remember the first time we came to these gardens? We met a fairy, and her little friends." The fire-haired young girl spoke to a brilliant phoenix perching on the dry benches on the top ring of the Hanging Gardens. The young dream-walker was lying on her back in the grassy meadow, eyes watching the lanterns drift upward towards the sky. Naija had never seen the place before, and so Gale led her friend to the incredible floating structure that stood as a testament of a man's love. The dream of this place–it was such a sad yet beautiful one. In the time she stayed with the bard, she had learned many things. The story of the gardens that never touched the ground was one like many others she had heard of love and loss. Sometimes, love was so bright and pure that it radiated through one's entire being. Yet even such a wondrous love could be denied. And like an ember, it would dwindle until it was snuffed out. Was that the pain of love unaccepted?

She couldn't imagine how that would feel. In all her life, in all the dreams she had walked through and seen, she had never truly grasped the form of that kind of love. A love that was like a precious gift meant for one, a gift that was hard to take back if the one who received it did not want it. Why would denying such a gift hurt so much? When she first asked Asha what love was, the phoenix was puzzled. When she explained more, the firebird gently urged her to ask her friend Naija. "This sort of thing is better understood by humans than us beasts. If you wish to know about the love of humans, then should you not ask one?" Asha's words rang true. Perhaps Naija would know better. Recalling the time she first saw the Gardens' dream, she had more questions forming than answers. Dreams flow and change as the seasons do, and many have visited this place since it was created. Yet the original dream had lingered for so long that the dreams of others left it unchanged. Closing her eyes, she began to drift off into sleep.

Once again she was within the dream. It was as beautiful as she remembered, with the same shimmering lights and dancing colors. There was that same sadness as well, still here even as the waking world changed around it. The people dancing and laughing together faded away and the music began to disappear as she let the dream take her in. Time seemed to stop and stand still here, but the longer she stayed the more it began to shift. At first Gale thought it was from the thoughts of the people in the waking world, but soon she witnessed another being taking shape within the changes. A person, made of color. It was a rich blue with royal purple intermingled. There was a quiet sorrow floating about it, causing pools of water to form into a vastly-expanding pond. Large water lilies the size of boats came from below, opening their buds into wide platforms of flowers.

The being was not facing her, and it too had a lily flower appear underneath it. But as soon as the flower's petals touched the person, their vibrant colors began to take on the same hues as the being itself. Thin mist began to cloud the pond, and from a cloudless sky it began to rain. Covering herself with her arms, she formed a large leaf to keep away the raindrops. The drops themselves added splashes of blues and purple to the pond's landscape. It was a wistful longing, a deep longing that had no end. This feeling, it almost reminded her of…

It was more beautiful than she could imagine! What a pity she hadn't seen the Hanging Gardens sooner, especially since it was so close to Abed. With Sidra's help, she and Gale were able to reach the lowest level and they progressed upward. The colors, the sights, the sounds–all of these were new and novel ideas she would love to put into song. With so many things to start with, the most difficult part was choosing one. "I remember seeing these orchids in Mamlak! My, their patterns are striking! It never ceases to amaze me how a simple flower could have such perfect symmetry." Orchids came in thousands of patterns, color combinations, shapes, and styles. Some were the round-lobed variety most associated with the tropical plants, and others were more pointed like an amaryllis. To thrive so well up in this altitude, the world truly was full of amazing wonders! She could spot a few plants from her homeland, but what soon held her attention were the lotuses. 

Sitting by the bubbling waters, she watched the flowers sit quietly on the surface. Lotus flowers, a well-known subject of all kinds of art had captivated the hearts and minds of philosophers and minstrels alike. Her mother's favorites were the golden ones, rare in comparison to the pink and white. When Priya was born, 'Padma' was one of the names their mother had considered for her. The bright pink blush on her cheeks when she laughed reminded them all of the gentle blush of the common lotus. Ah, even so she still missed home. Her family was doing well, they sent letters often. Abed had recovered from the disturbance on the seas and life was flourishing once more. Ariesha was excelling as a dancer and performed with Priyasha as a pair. With the new relations between the Sister Continents with Onnen, trading of rare an unusual items had brought a new spark to the Blessed City. 

In one of her letters from her family, her father sent her an astrological reading he had seen in the stars. This year would be a fruitful one, for all lands. The time of war and conflict was over and peace would return. And as always, he said to keep a smile on her face and to keep herself safe. Perhaps at the end of this year she could return to see them all. Parvati rested on a branch, preening her iridescent rainbow plumage. "This place suits you wonderfully, Parvati." The minstrel said to the beautiful bird. "With all the lovely colors gathered here, do you think this was how rainbow phoenixes were created?" The phoenix cooed gently, and the woman smiled. Taking out her sitar, she strummed the strings to the melody of the running water.

Rippling and flowing, the hypnotic echoes of the instrument rolled and cascaded like the water flowing over and around the stones. A few bright notes and chords were the lotus flowers drifting on the river, surrounding the area with song. A song of the river bearing beautiful blossoms, like a princess with flowers woven into the tresses of her hair. Closing her eyes, Naija took these images and let her fingers play as they desired.

'Hello?' She spoke, wondering if the person could hear her. With her leafy cover she approached carefully. Although the ground had become a pond, that did not mean one could not walk upon it. Dreams were not bound by the same rules as the waking world. If you believed in something strongly enough, it would become so. And so, because she believed she could simply walk across–she did. The world of dreams was ever-shifting, there were no absolutes. Anything and everything could happen, things change in the blink of an eye. Yet there was no reason to fear; this was the nature of the world of dreams. The being composed of blues and purples turned to her, the colors forming what she could recognize as a face. It was very normal, nothing strange. But the way the world around it changed so drastically made Gale wonder about who they were. A single person's dreaming could not hold such power. Unless…the dream that was changing was theirs.

The shifting colors began forming clearer outlines of a man's form, still in the azure hues like before. At the sight of the young dream-walker, the colors brightened and the deep melancholy was slightly lifted. 'Ah, welcome visitor. Please forgive me, I didn't see you there. When I heard your footsteps I thought she had come back…' That deep sadness was starting to return, present in the darkening of the colors that made up his form. 'Are you searching for someone?' She asked. She could recognize that same feeling. Even after accepting the possibility of not being able to return home, it was still there, lingering like a hazy cloud above a valley. 'Yes, I am. I thought I caught a glimpse of her a moment ago, but then she was gone. Could you help me? If you are in a hurry, please don't trouble yourself for my sake. I can ask the next person who passes by.'

The girl thought long and hard, unsure if it was the right thing to intervene. Was this person too a part of the dream itself, or were they still present outside in some way? If this man was a figment just like the pond and flowers, then she would not be impeding the dream's flow. But if it were a person in the waking world asking for her help, then she must refuse. Taking a moment, she quieted her heart to feel the way the streams of consciousness were moving. Most dreams were intertwined by the stream like brooks feeding into and being fed by a river. By following this stream a dream-walker could travel across lands and cities in the waking world, as all dreams were connected. As the man waited for her answer, she found its direction, and found herself puzzled. The stream flowed in, yet did not flow out. Following its entry the stream repeated in a circle. This dream was no longer 'living'. A stagnant dream, where the dreamer was long gone yet the world continued to linger.

If Master Rushaad were with her, would he allow the actions which she would soon undertake? If this was a shadow of a dream, then perhaps the ending was already set in stone. Even if one were to hold a hand into a whirlpool of water, the course by which the water moved would continue to turn. Whether she chose to help or to decline, this would not change the outcome. In this case, she chose to step forward. Lifting her head, she looked to the man and answered: 'I will help you to the best of my ability, efendi. The lady you wish to meet, what does look like?'  The man bent down and he whispered in her ear.

Taking a rest in between her playing, she noticed some time had passed since she and her young friend had arrived. Standing from her place, she held out an arm for Parvati to perch on. "I wonder where she is? Knowing her she should be daydreaming somewhere. Shall we give her a surprise, Parvati?" Plucking one of the pink lotus flowers, she held it in her hand as she began to walk the length of the garden. There were so many people dressed in their finest, masks just like those at the end of the year in Zets'Ki. Music from strangers unseen wove their way through the dancing waves of people, lanterns like stars dotting the skies. A person brushed by her, and the bard looked up to see a man without a partner. His face was worried, a clear contrast against the joyous harmony. "Oh, pardon me." She said, and the man gave a restrained smile with a short bow. "That's quite alright, I didn't realize you were there. Excuse me…" How strange. Why was he in a hurry? "Sir? If you don't mind me asking, what is the matter?" Naija's melodious voice ringing out, causing him to turn back.

"No, it's nothing miss. I'm sure I've just missed her in the crowds. There's no need to worry about me." The sound of hasty thoughts and uncertainty were speaking loudly in the tones of his voice. His mask was a vibrant black and blue, iridescent like the gossamer of butterfly wings. Ah, so that must be why he was so troubled. Before he disappeared back into the crowd, she asked him: "Are you looking for your lover, sir?" He stopped, and she smiled. Clasping her hands together, she then gave him the blushing pink blossom she had picked moments ago. "Back in my homeland, lotus blossoms were gifts given by boys to the girls they admired. Although the waters from which they grow may be deep and unclear, their buds produce the most beautiful flowers without spot or blemish. No wonder so many mothers wish to name their daughters after such a sublime blossom." 

The man took the flower carefully into his hands, his worry and unease finally breaking into a smile. "Make sure to tell her the feelings you hold for her in your heart. Whoever she is, I am sure she must be as lovely as this lotus." The minstrel said. And with that, the man left after waving goodbye. The smile he had, it was wonderful. Hesitant and anxious at first, but like a lotus bud it unfurled into something so heartfelt and sincere. A thought came to her–and she whirled around to see which way the man had went. To her surprise, he was nowhere to be found. Asking the people who were nearest to him before his departure, it appeared that no one had noticed or seen a man matching his description.

"What a pity, I was just about to ask him if he would let me come along to see her too." She was sure his overflowing sincerity and the reciprocation from his beloved would have made an excellent love ballad. Perhaps she would have to leave the second half incomplete. After all if beauty is in the eye of those who behold it, then what better way to capture the heart of the listener than to allow them to imagine what kind of woman he admired so deeply? Humming the first notes of the tune, she caressed Parvati's feathers and ascended until the verdant Terra meadow was in view. There she was–her fire-haired friend, sleeping soundly upon the carpet of grass. Sitting beside her, she took a quill from her bag and lightly brushed it by the girl's nose.

Taking the figure by the hand, they both walked side by side through the strange and changing world of his dream. She had no way of knowing how far they had gone from where they first met, nor did she know how close they were to finding the being's beloved. To others this would be distressing, worrying–but not to a dream-walker. Time, space, distance all flowed according to the dream. If the being whom this dream belonged to believed he could easily find the woman he was searching for, they would see her quickly. As time went on, Gale understood perhaps his heart held doubts about the woman he loved, though she did not know why. Looking up she smiled and encouraged him, 'I am sure we will find her soon. I will stay with you until she comes, I promise.' It wasn't usual for her to give promises in dreams, but she knew this one had already reached its end long ago. It was a sad thing, but if she could give the dreamer a small spark of comfort despite the conclusion being affixed by fate, she would not hold back.

The world was shifting again, the path becoming clearer and more defined. Without saying a word she felt as if they were reaching the dream's end. The loop of this lingering dream closed when he found the one he sought, but because the wish of this dream went unfulfilled it would simply repeat again. Again, and again in hopes of something that would and could never happen. But a dream-walker must see each dream through, no matter the result. To bravely face the worst and embrace the best–that was what her master had taught her to do. The colors around the person they intended to find were a vibrant green, and the azure figure she was standing with had its hues brighten into a pale lavender.

'It's her! She's here, she really came…' Gale felt a small sting of sadness, already knowing what would happen next. But she kept her smile, and didn't shed a tear. Sometimes, love was not always reciprocated. Sometimes not all gifts were happily received. She stood where she was as she watched the man approach the woman, his ethereal form glowing. She didn't hear the words spoken between them, but the way the green figure shook her head and turned her back and the sudden dimming of the man's color told Gale everything. The woman's presence then evaporated into the wind, leaving a single lone figure forlorn on an elevated ridge. His head hung low in his hands, he lifted it to look out on the endless horizon as the entire world began to drown in a torrential rain. As his feet were nearing the precipice, the young dream-walker shut her eyes and silenced her mind.

"…Gale…Gale~ Can you hear me?" A voice like music gently drew her back into the waking world and the dream realm fell away as she regained consciousness. Opening her eyes, she felt an itching under her nose as her friend stood above holding a feather. "You didn't stir when I called your name a few times. Did you have a good dream?" The minstrel smiled, sitting down next to her. The young dream-walker nodded, wiping the sleep from her eyes.