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"Leaving so soon, Solomon?"

The voice was familiar. Feminine. Husky. Alluring. An odd though enticing combination. He knew at once it was the stranger, though he couldn't see her. He focused on expanding the circle of light in which he moved, but no change was effected. He took a few more steps inward, toward the center of the gazebo and caught the glow of the smoldering end of a cigarette. He approached with a little more confidence. The edges of the light began to reveal the tips of a pair of pumps; next, the hem of a long black coat; soon, the figure herself. He stopped when she stood within the circle of light, though the light seemed not penetrate any farther than her clothing. Her face remained a mystery, ensconced in a dark shroud of smoky wisps.

Her eyes, however, were like fire piercing through the shroud. Solomon wondered if this was a creature of the dream, or a full-fledged demon.

"You have some skill, Solomon." She took a long drag of her cigarette, removed it from her lips, then cast it aside. "You found me with some relative ease."

Solomon fought down the urge to bolt, to find a way out before things became problematic, as in the corridor from before. Standing before her, he took a deep breath to settle his nerves.

"Is this no ordinary dream?" He faltered as he asked, fearing the answer, but committed to learning.

She smiled. He didn't know how, but he knew she smiled. Perhaps it was in the way of dreams, where something is known without needing to be seen.

"Oh you know the answer to that one," she said.

A shiver ran all the way up his spine, producing a tingling sensation across his whole body.

"I won't be trapped here this time," he said.

She laughed. It was that tinkling, musical laugh which was both condescending and infectious, though he cringed in response to it.

"My intention is not to trap you, Solomon. I intend to help you, but I fear I can only take you so far. You are not ready to be here, and yet you insist on coming so completely."

"What do you mean?"

The figure fished another cigarette from out of thin air, already lit. She stepped up to Solomon, inhaled deeply through the cigarette, then blew the smoke into Solomon's face. He flinched, expecting the noxious scent of cigarette smoke, but instead was met with odors of cinnamon, cloves, and cilantro. He returned his gaze to meet the woman, who was taking another drag.

"I mean, who. Are. YOU." She exhaled the smoke as she spoke, which broke into rings, framing his face as they flew by, the delicious scent of the herbs filling his nostrils though the smoke flew around him.

"I don't understand," he said.

"I know," she said. "Let me show you a thing."

Solomon broke into a sweat at hearing these words. He expected to be wrapped up once again in the woman's cloak and when it disappeared, to find himself in the corridor. However, no such thing happened. Instead, with the cigarette protruding from the smoky shroud--he guessed the end was held with her lips--she turned to face the surrounding darkness. Solomon stepped up next to her, curious to see what she would do, in spite of his fear. The woman placed her hands in such a way as if to separate two sliding doors and then ripped the darkness apart.

The surrounding darkness fell away, seeping into the ground all around them, revealing a brilliant and beautiful garden extending for miles. Solomon looked around, in awe of the garden's magnificence, but his attention was brought to bear on the path before him when the woman snapped her fingers in front of his face.

"Don't get distracted now, Solomon. You are not in a place designed for fun, and this is not the time for games."

Continued after the break

The path from which he came continued on the other side of the gazebo, sloping downward, surrounded by large planters akin to the dandelion patch, but with varying flora and fauna. At some distance, the path entered a large, round, hedge maze. As he peered off beyond the maze, the sky darkened, lightning crackled, and it began to rain. On exiting the maze, the path began to wind and wander, coursing through dark forests and menacing swamps. The farther he followed the path with his eyes, the more tumultuous the weather became. Wind whipped against him, pushing rain into his clothing until he was soaked and freezing. He moved to embrace himself but to no avail; he was wet and cold and the wind and rain was relentless. The path led to foothills, turning into a great mountain upon which rose a giant spire. Violent storms surged around the tower, and the wind and rain around the gazebo rose in intensity to match the horror of the vision. A light toward the top of the tower cut through the wind, rain, clouds, lightning, darkness to shine down upon Solomon. It filled him dread; his heart began racing, and stood at the edge of total terror. With a start, he dropped his gaze, and with it, the darkness returned, falling all around them to cut off the view of the path, of the garden, of the maze, of the tower.

The wind and rain died, and Solomon was surprised to find he was no longer cold, and his clothing no longer wet. He turned a confused look upon the woman.

"We are in the King's domain," she said. "All who find themselves here become entrapped. Entangled. They are first lost among the flowers, and then they are consumed by the darkness. Only a precious few remain wandering the maze."

"I still don't understand."

"Oh you will, eventually." She turned and gave him a hard stare. "You'll understand when it's too late."

The tower. The beacon. The feeling of dread. These were familiar. This was the presence.

"The King is the presence in the house." Solomon had meant to keep this to himself but said it out loud without realizing.

"He is known by many names and by many ways." The woman raised her arms and made a slow pushing gesture. The darkness receded, peeling away from them until he could see just past the hedge maze. She turned to face him. "We are all lost here because we lacked the foundation to stand firm against his influence. As do you."

Solomon shook his head and began to chuckle.

"Your arrogance will lead to your undoing, Solomon." She snapped her fingers and the familiar walls of the corridor shot up from the ground. They disappeared as quickly. "That corridor runs below us. Had you kept running, you would have made it all the way to the tower."

Solomon stopped laughing. He looked up, past the hedge maze, into the darkness, as if by doing so he could discern all he had seen beyond the maze.

"You would have made it all the way to the tower, but you failed," she said.

"I didn't fail, I was trapped."

"Failure, Solomon."

Solomon felt himself grow hot with anger and frustration.

"You locked me in a vault. The corridor was unending."

The woman threw her head back and laughed. Her laugh filled the stone gazebo and was carried by the soft breeze to the very ends of the maze. She stopped laughing and turned to face Solomon. The sound of her laughter dissipated long after she closed her mouth.

"I trapped you?" She said, her tone mocking. "You did that yourself, Solomon. You let fear stop you. And it would have consumed you completely and locked you away in this land forever had you not somehow escaped."

Solomon frowned. He felt he was being tricked, but he also felt the truth of her words. He was angry he had no retort with which to counter these claims. But it mattered not. As she finished speaking, her body began to melt, leaving only the shroud of darkness over her face afloat before him.

A loud blaring sound filled the darkness, turning it red, then purple, then back to black. Over and over the blaring sound rang. Solomon clapped his hands over his ears to attempt to reduce his experience of its intensity, but to no avail. The sound pulsed through the dark, through the maze, through his eyes and ears and bones. It was much to his surprise that he heard the woman's final words clearly over the din, before she disappeared.

"Well played, Solomon. Well played indeed. But even these tricks will not save you for long."

The garden burst into blackness, and Solomon awoke to the alarm he had set.

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