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Memories of my encounters with the gargoyle rushed back. “That, Grace, is the first defense. It may look inert now, but believe me, it’s far from that.”
She raised an eyebrow, her hand unconsciously finding mine. “What does it do?”
“Well,” I began, recalling the intimidating moments I’d faced at this very threshold, “its stone eyes turn real, and it fixes its gaze upon me, paralyzing me in place. Then, in a voice that rumbles like a faraway storm, it posed a riddle.”
Grace’s grip tightened on my hand. “A riddle?”
A smile tugged at my lips. “The riddle it poses aren’t your everyday conundrums. They’re deeply introspective, designed to peer into one’s soul and challenge the very essence of who you are.”
She looked at me, her face illuminated by the ambient glow of the realm, eyes filled with intrigue. “Do you remember the riddle it asked you?”
A sigh escaped me. “I wish I could, Grace. I remember the feelings it invoked, the mental gymnastics I had to undergo to find the answer. I remember the weight of the words, the depth they held. The exact phrasing eludes me.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re keeping it from me intentionally,” she teased.
I chuckled, the sound echoing softly in the void. “It took me five attempts. And each time I got it wrong, the gargoyle would emit this chilling laugh, reverberating through the realm, before sending me right back to the start.”
“That sounds… terrifying,” Grace admitted. “You eventually got it right?”
I nodded. “Yes, but not without delving deep into my fears, regrets, and sorrows. The riddle was less about intelligence and more about introspection.”
Grace seemed lost in thought for a moment. “And the answer?”
Drawing her close, the warmth of her body against mine a comforting sensation amidst the dream’s chill, I whispered:
“Guilty.”
Her eyes widened in realization. “So, the riddle was about something personal? About a feeling that weighs us down?”
“Exactly. It wasn’t about deciphering a tricky set of words but about confronting what haunts us.”
Grace leaned her head on my shoulder, taking in the gargoyle’s stony visage. “Guilt… It’s a powerful emotion. One that can imprison us in our own minds. In a way, it’s a perfect answer for a defense mechanism in a dream.”
I pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “It was a reminder, Grace. No matter how far we venture, no matter what realms we explore, we can’t run from our own feelings, our own conscience.”
Together, we continued along the pathway, leaving behind the stone gate and its guardian but carrying with us the lessons it had imparted.
* * *
As we continued our trek on the suspended path, the floating debris and fragments around us started shifting into a more ordered pattern.
Planks of wood, stones, and random scraps converged, locking into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, creating walls and structures of a fragmented building around us.
Above, other items hung suspended, some swirling like small planets while others seemed to be part of an intricate machine slowly taking form.
“The dream is reconstructing itself,” Grace whispered, her eyes darting around, trying to make sense of the changing environment.
I nodded, my fingers brushing a floating shard of glass, feeling its cold, smooth surface. “The deeper we go, the more personal and intense Uhah’s memories become.”
Ahead, we spotted another door, much like the first one, but instead of a gargoyle perched atop, there was a grand, ornate grandfather clock stationed beside it.
The clock stood tall and regal, its intricate woodwork glowing softly in the dim light.
However, where one would expect to see the hour and minute hands moving rhythmically, there was nothing but an empty clock face.
“Another puzzle?” Grace asked, her curiosity evident in her sparkling eyes.
I smiled, the memory of my numerous interactions with the clock still fresh in my mind. “Yes. Uhah seems to be a fan of them. The clock face is always blank. Timeless. It took me a while to understand its significance.”
