Skye is the Limit by Phenomenal Pen (best time to read books txt) 📕
Omni Systems, the world’s largest tech company, has discovered a way to combine lucid dreaming with the experience of RPG and virtual communities. They select five young adults from across the globe to take part in the trial run of the revolutionary technology, SKYE.
A backpacker, a pro gamer, a veterinary student, a fitness motivator, and a brittle bone disease survivor; these five individuals must learn to harness their imaginations and innate mana, which take the guise of guardian spirits called Anima. The Imagineers, as they’re fondly dubbed by the press, will journey through the highly unpredictable environment of their collective dream to meet a mystical character known as Atom the God of Creation.
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- Author: Phenomenal Pen
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“You don’t need to worry about that, Blacksmith,” Elf said. “After slaying the dragon, all our health meters have been replenished. I can assure you that all of them are full right now.”
“Our what now?” Warrior asked.
Elf couldn’t answer because she wasn’t sure how she knew such a thing. Somehow, she was able to keep track of everyone’s health status and even felt it was her responsibility to nurse everyone if ever the need arose.
“Elf is correct, Blacksmith,” Mage said. “What you are experiencing is merely phantom hunger. In this world, our physical forms do not require nourishment or rest. This also addresses Elf’s misgivings with regards to our shared accommodation.”
“How about peeing?” Blacksmith asked sarcastically. “Am I forbidden from doing that too?”
“You do know what happens when you pee in dream state, don’t you?” Ranger asked.
“No, I don’t. Why? Is this one of those water-flushes-down-the-toilet-clockwise-or-counter-clockwise factoid?”
Ranger didn’t answer and just looked at Blacksmith as though he was incredibly naïve.
“What? I’ve never done it so how would I know?”
<Any baggage?> Hordo the Innkeeper asked. <Horses to take to the stable?>
<No, we travel light,> Mage answered.
<Would you like the River Naiad or Woodland Dryad view?>
<Woodland!> Blacksmith jumped in. Then he explained: “If I’m not supposed to pee on this quest then I better avoid thinking about flowing, rushing, gushing and splashing things.”
<We are interested in purchasing some wine,> Mage informed Hordo. <May we request a private tasting?>
<Ah! A true connoisseur!> Hordo’s eyes gleamed. <We would forthwith to the vaults if I did not fear the dampness would make you ill.>
<Thank you for your concern but we shall manage. We pray thee lead the way.>
<As you wish,> Hordo said with a conspirational smile.
They walked past the kitchen door from which wafted many exotic and curious odors. The door was the type that separated into two halves and at the moment the upper section was open. The Dreamwalkers glimpsed a hag with tentacles clutching a struggling fish, a cleaver, a trencher, a ladle, a wooden spoon, a mortar and pestle, and a flesh hook. Various meats hung from metal hooks and a set of shelves bore jars, ceramic bowls, plates and goblets.
Blacksmith was fascinated by the mishmash of odors. In a remote part of his brain, he recognized this as the newest dimension of immersive VR tech and pictured smell-emitting nozzles fitted in sim-chairs. Elf, who knew about food sanitation from her dusty memories of the surface world, felt her stomach doing somersaults.
But Hordo’s real destination was the large and heavy chest next to the door. Turning his back to his customers to hide his next actions, Hordo opened one of the middle drawers with a key hanging around his neck and then, instead of picking up the piles of pewter dishes inside, turned them certain ways and degrees. The chest was like the medieval version of a combination lock.
The effect was reflected not on the chest but all the way across the room, on the fireplace even, whose flames sputtered and turned blue before a dark maw gaped behind them.
<Shall we?> Hordo gestured after locking the drawer again. The Dreamwalkers looked hesitant as they all approached the fireplace.
<’Tis quite all right. These flames were crafted by the Salamanders themselves. They’re perfectly harmless. Hither, permit me to show you.>
Without the slightest hesitation, the innkeeper bent over and entered the fireplace, stepping right on top of the smoldering logs, which shrugged off blue sparks upon contact. Although he was wearing boots and made an effort to hitch up the skirt of his robe away from the ashes, he didn’t cry out in pain nor did his fur catch fire. He tucked his head into the back of the firebox and disappeared.
“Remember, Dreamwalkers,” Mage said as encouragement, “everything in this realm is merely an illusion.” He then followed Hordo without looking back.
“Yeah, right,” Blacksmith said. “Everything is just an illusion but illusions can still leave a mark.” Then a puzzled look dawned on his face because he couldn’t remember where he had heard the idea before.
“Oh, quit pussyfooting around,” Ranger said and walked over to step on the fire himself. “If the illusions get too hot, you could always pee on them.”
His parting shot elicited giggles from Elf and Warrior.
Miffed, Blacksmith put aside his apprehension and faced the challenge. Gingerly walking on the blue fire, he too was soon swallowed by the darkness.
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