Trenton remembered this place somehow, a spirit town they called it. When the monsters were first created, the spirits feared they were no longer safe in nature. Gone were the days they could dwell peacefully within solemn lakes of gently flowing water, gone the days of resting atop soft hills beneath skies of rolling white. They retreated into new spaces of their own makings, memories of the old world before the monsters with these little towns, hidden in dreams, the only bridge between the two worlds. But that left the question, why did the spirit's hate humans so much? What had happened? No matter how hard he thought, the answer wouldn’t come, the memories foggy.

  The crane set down atop a flat roofed building, the spirit hoard pulling Trenton, as well as Avardis and Karfice, through the town and up towards the grand tower at the center of the little village. Even from a ways away, the city bell was easy to see, its gargantuan mass swinging almost over the edge of the tower as it swayed back and forth, propelled by large wind spirits hovering outside.

  It was a day to celebrate, all must know, all must see. He’d returned to them, returned after all these years. Those were the words they whispered excitedly amongst each other, the words they bathed upon Trenton. Although with so much noise, beautiful and whole as it was, streaming from every direction, Trenton couldn’t make much else of what they spoke, any individual’s noise lost within the lot as they dragged the human visitors up the great bell tower and towards the great bell.

  “The humans said you were dead dead dead! But we never gave up hope, we never believed it! We knew you’d come back, no matter how long it took! Come come! The queen is waiting,” an air spirit spoke to him, hovering upside down inches from Trenton’s face.

  She grabbed either of his hands by his fingertips, gently prying him up and away from the other spirits, lofting him into the air with a gentle and warm upwind. Her smile was radiant, the joy in her presence flooding Trenton’s own, almost bringing a smile to his face. Together, they danced, as was custom in spirit culture. A single’s joy could not be swallowed, it must be shared, given as a gift to all that would hear it. And today, there were many gifts to be given, many to be received, a collective held by all.

  They spiraled through the air, setting down at the edge of the tower just before the great bell, where a gathering of spirits circled, arms linked, singing a familiar song and kicking out their feet. Trenton recognized this form, partly from Wyrm’s perch and partly from the depths of an old memory. This was a spirit dance, a very specific one.

  There was only one way to reach the spirit dwelling. One must be invited, taken there hand in hand by a spirit. For the only way the door would ever open, was to be a friend of the spirits. But all who bore that title were thought to be dead for many, many years, until today, when one finally, finally returned.

  Trenton, Avardis, and Karfice melded into the spirit circle, their friends close at hand, joining the sacred spirit dance as best they could, Trenton guiding the others in their step. And when the spirits said to close their eyes, they did. When the spirits said to smile, they did. When the spirits said to be happy, they were. And when the bell rang for the final time, they allowed themselves to drift slowly, ever so slowly, to sleep.

  .

  .

  .

  The sounds of bird song filled Trenton’s ears, delicate little twits which floated carefree through the air, soft pinpricks of lush, green grasses at his back. Trenton was no longer in the little spirit town, nor atop the great plateau of the spirit dwelling. He lay beneath a simple oak tree on a large grassy hill, sunlight filtering through the full green leaves above him, caressing his face with its motherly glow. A gentle breeze wandered around him, lifting at his cheek, holding him in its embrace, then moving on, other places to be.

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  “Hey hey hey! Took you oh so long to wake!”

  A spirit jutted out of the tree a little above him, his torso hanging out of the wooded mass with his arms crossed proudly across his chest. Unlike the other spirits, he was not smiling, but neither did he look particularly displeased. The slight arch to his brow and purse of his lips spoke to Trenton as a little of intrigue, curiosity. He wasn’t one of the spirits in the town, of that much Trenton was certain.

  “Is this the Spirit Dwelling?” Trenton asked, sitting up and turning to face the spirit proper, words in the foreign tongue flowing from him like silk from the tongue.

  The spirit nodded, “Yup yup, although you’ve been out a whiiiiilllllleeee. I wanted to stay, stay with you, but I got bored. Had to roll the hills to keep myself nice and sane. But enough of me. I want to hear of you! What made you decide to come back now of all times? Can’t say I was around when you last were, but I’ve heard the stories.”

  “I’m not…I don’t…” Trenton clutched his head, wincing.

  “Woah woah, careful friend! Don’t overwork yourself. This may be a dream, but you are no dreamer. That body is as real as real is. I’d treat it with ‘uns and care.”

  “...why did the others greet us so happily? I thought spirits hated humans.”

  “They do they do, but not you. The mortal shell may trick the godlings eyes, but not ours. We can see you for what you truly are, and that is what they celebrate. It’s been millenia since you were last here.”

  “And by me do you mean…”

  “Atlas, of course.”

  “Right…what exactly…who exactly is Atlas?”

  “Sorry friend, but that’s not a question I can well answer. You would know no worse than me, and certainly far better. I know you were our friend, I know you were our creator, but I know no else.”

  “Your…creator?”

  The spirit nodded, “Yes yes, although not you alone. There were others, I’m told, but I know not their names, only you.”

  Trenton sat in silence for a moment, the spirit staring him down the whole while, waiting patiently, more or less, for his next question, “...could you tell me your name? You seem calmer than the others.”

  The spirit shook his head dismissively, “None to you, but the others call me Orketh.”

  Trenton nodded, “Trenton. Thank you, Orketh, for looking over me. Do you know where my allies are?”

  “I didn’t ask, but I suppose you’re well to give. I do not know where your friends are, but I wager wager they aren’t very far. Maybe the queen would know, your question would be wise for her,” the spirit gestured with his head behind Trenton.

  About a half mile away, Trenton saw a very familiar sight, a grassy knoll standing just before a vast crystalline lake, whose surface glittered with the sun's brilliance. It was the very same place the two great spirits had shared all those months ago, which also meant this was exactly where he was meant to be.

  “Go friend, she waits for you,” Orketh said, disappearing back within the thick tree’s bark without another word.

  Trenton trotted calmly across the hills, enjoying the nice weather and peace, all the while keeping on his guard. No matter where he went, it seemed his mind was never free of worry. Even in the Spirit Dwelling, a little part at the back of Trenton’s mind warned him of danger, warned him to be careful. It was absurd, surely, but a warning he was well to heed.

  Trenton stopped before the great lake, standing atop the grassy knoll just as he had in the vision, looking out at the vast waters with a sense of heavy foreboding within his heart. He didn’t really know what he was doing here, nor why he’d been drawn to this place, but something about it, despite how wonderful it seemed, really put him off. Something just didn’t feel right. But before he could figure out what it was, the waters started to tumble.