"Kael," the woman called softly, her voice as gentle as a breeze through spring petals, beckoning Greg closer with a gesture full of warmth.
Greg—no, Kael—felt his legs move without his conscious will. His body walked forward like a child returning to his mother's arms after lifetimes apart. Only when he was a meter away did his steps stop.
He stood still, stunned, speechless, unsure whether to speak or remain silent.
"Sit," she instructed kindly.
Without hesitation, a chair made of living flowers bloomed behind him—vines weaving together, petals blooming in a soft floral sigh. Greg sat, obedient, as though under a spell. He wasn't afraid. The sensation was... comfort. A feeling he'd long forgotten.
"You can speak now. I'll hear you," she said. "Even though this is your dream, I'm fully capable of conversing with you."
"How...?" Greg began.
