Shaynen always burned bright. He was the exact embodiment of confidence. It was that confidence that carried him through the intensive training of the Temple of Dreams.

He’d been handed over to the monastery as a young elven child and though he hardly spoke of where he’d come from or who brought him there, he was always the first to volunteer. To work until exhaustion. He was happy to absorb everything the monastery had to teach.

Talk of the spirit realm would have his crystal blue eyes sparkling. His face would go blank as his mind carried him away. Creating his own apparitions as to what the spirit realm was like and what his spirit would present itself as.

Every day was strictly structured. The sound of the chimes would wake the temple’s inhabitants as the sky turned from night to day. Before even leaving the dorms, there would be an hour of meditation. Then to the courtyard where all acolytes would find a place to breathe during morning yoga. Then into the first wave of physical training. Mental training. Faith-based classes of what exactly was a spirit and where they resided. Then back to physical and mental training. Finishing out the day with more meditation.

It was less a series of days that turned to years as it was one long day with small rest periods. All leading to the Ceremony of Dreams. Where, when an acolyte went from adolescence to adulthood, they would enter the last room of the temple where they would meet their spirit…

Fifteen years.

From child left on the steps to now.

Shaynen felt his chest still. The doorway of the final shrine to the spirits loomed over him. Looking down and asking if he was ready. And he was. He didn’t look at the masters that were watching over the ceremony, instead striding to the door. The cold stone made his head spin. He pushed the doors open. Warm air sighed past him. Moving his sun-colored hair out of his face.

“All unnecessary items must be removed prior.” Elven master Ayre said. Shaynen couldn’t tear his eyes away, he turned toward Ayre and made the smallest motion, interpreted as a nod. Ayre walked close to Shaynen. Nearly three times Shaynen’s age and twice his height, Ayre leaned close.

“Whatever you may see. Have faith,” Ayre whispered. He left Shaynen’s side. Shaynen’s chest ached from how hard his heart was beating. He took a deep breath and walked into the darkness.

The heavy doors closed behind him and he was left in the warmth of the void. He listened to the sounds of the temple as he waited for his eyes to adjust. There was the heavy sound of a single large drop of water, the smell of new rain on old stone. The hushed whispers of water flowing. His eyes opened to see the room.

In the middle of the vast room was an octagonal pool. A steady drop of water falling to its center. Pushing a ripple out into the lines of flowing water along irrigations in the floor. There was a table of stone just ahead of the pool; on the right half was a small porcelain cup.

The sound of Shaynen’s bare feet against the stone joined the imposing choir of the water. He untied the white cloth from his chest and pulled off the black undershirt beneath. He took off the small dreamcatcher that emulated the symbols of the monastery from his waist. He paused at his loose pants, trying to guess if they counted as unnecessary. He took out his hair so that the blonde curls dropped around his shoulders.

Inside the cup was some kind of thick liquid that was heavy with too many scents to identify. Shaynen downed the contents of the cup without tasting it, though it’s bitterness tried to linger. He walked around the table to the pool. The room began to spin before he took his first step into the water.

Shaynen walked to the center of the pool as his head got heavy. He swayed, causing the water to overflow from the pool. The ends of his grey pants were heavy as they soaked in the water. He sat fully in the center of the pool. It wasn’t deep enough to rise above his waist, nor was it of any temperature. Shaynen saw nothing as he tilted his head back. The heavy bead of water touching the center of his forehead. That drop of water was the last thing he remembered.

When he awoke he was still in the pool. The first thing he realized was that he was lying on his back. The water was perfectly still around him. Shaynen’s eyes shut tight as pain exploded in his head. His guts knotted deeply inside and threatened him. He groaned and sat up to hold his head as the world tipped around. This was no environment for thought.

But a single thought did break through.

Shaynen jolted upright, ignoring the new wave of pain that sent tremors through his body. He moved frantically resetting himself in the center of the pool. Had he done it wrong? He closed his eyes and waited. It would come. It had to.

He felt his stomach lurch as he went cold from the inside out. He flinched at the water falling onto his face. Shattering the small amount of concentration he could achieve. But he wouldn’t stop. He held the fabric of his pants in tight fists. He couldn’t stop.

“Shaynen?” Master Ayre called softly. The stone doors made no sound as they opened. The older monk saw the boy huddled in the pool and sighed in relief.

“Shaynen it’s late,” Ayre said. He walked into the room and to the side of the pool. Shaynen was curled up into a ball. His legs pulled up to his chest and his face shoved in his knees. Ayre sat down on the edge quietly.

“What did you see?” He whispered.

“Nothing,” Shaynen said.

“You can tell me,” Ayre said. He put a warm hand on Shaynen’s shoulder.

“I saw NOTHING!” Shaynen threw Ayre’s hand off of him and huddled back up. “There was nothing. I saw nothing.” Ayre folded his hands into his lap.

“That’s all right. It just means you aren’t ready yet.” Ayre said.

“But I’ve done everything! I’m over a hundred now, I’ve been the first to learn and complete all the tasks set! There’s nothing more!” Shaynen peeked out from his ball. Eyes red and swollen. His grey pants were mostly dry, but there was a large dark spot where he’d been hiding his face.

“Sometimes we may call upon the spirits, sometimes the spirits will call upon us.” Ayre said. “Perhaps yours is not ready to reveal itself yet, perhaps still, it is something you cannot recognize.” Shaynen buried his face back into his knees with a watery sigh.

“Come on. It’s past time for bed,” Ayre held out a hand. Shaynen took it lethargically. Staring into nothing as he was ushered towards his dorm and to bed.