The Dreamer

"One always wonders: does the Collector dream?"

The witch smiled innocently at the cloaked visitor who had come to her cottage so often, that it had practically become his own house. Waiting for an answer, she picked up her kettle, and poured herself a steaming cup of tea.

"Yes, I do dream," he responded placidly, shooting the shadow encircled woman a cold glare. "I believe you..." He glanced at the unconscious young lady lying on the table. "...are showing her a copy of one of ██ past dreams, correct?" Suddenly, his tone became threatening.

"Oho, it appears that the collector has some brains after all." The witch licked her lips mischievously. "Your precious little princess...asked me to send her into your dreams."

"You-!"

"Do you doubt my words as you've come to doubt your own?"

The collector huffed, crossing his arms, and assumed an annoyed position on his chair.

"Do you accuse me of lies when I speak only the truth?"

"I would not dare," the man replies with a sigh.

"You would do well to take me for my word, if not for my past and upbringing. Your royal status does not faze me so."

"Does it not? I've lived thousands if not millions of lifetimes, yet I've only aged a few years. I've cut the demon born into my bones from my mind and soul, leaving the kingdom I created to his wretched rule. I've watched you run in circles more times than you could ever imagine, and yet...you believe that you have something over me? How foolish and naive you are."

"Are you even sure you remember your own story?" The witch smirked, the insult hitting right where she intended. "You've lived so many lifetimes, so how could you possibly remember all the details of each and every one of them?"

"I-"

The woman shushed him. "Just do your job right. When she leaves this cottage, she will begin to grow suspicious of you if she has not developed suspicions already. There is nothing you can do to prevent it. She knows █████ too well. I do not know what exactly will tip her off, but be careful. The continuation of time itself depends on you."

The collector nodded, long, silky hair falling in waves over his neck. His frosty eyes gleamed for a moment as his body reverted back to its previous state.

"You know, there's something that's been on my mind since you came in here." The witch looked the collector up and down.

"What?"

"Were you not uncomfortable sitting in that?" She gestured at the shoulder-less white and blue dress he was wearing. Gold detailing lined the edges of the sleeves and skirt. "I never took you for the cross-dressing type."

The collector smiled coldly. He gently brushed the unconscious girl's dark, obsidian locks, his cold, icy eyes thawing just a little. "I will dress how I like, witch." He carefully brushed the young girl's hair aside, giving her a light peck on the forehead. "Whatever it takes to get close to her." He was halfway out the door before he turned back.

"Whatever it takes to be with her."

***

Cleo awoke, gasping, still seated in her chair, the witch standing beside her, smiling about something only she knew.

"How was it?" the witch asked, scooping up her pool of stars and pouring the stuff into a bottle she produced from the folds of her dress. "Based on your reaction, that was your first time, I assume?"

"Wait, what?" Cleo responds, cheeks flushed redder than a tomato.

"Don't worry, dear. Nothing that happens in dreams becomes reality. That is why they are called dreams."

Cleo sighed, picking up a glass of water and taking a sip.

"But the sensations you felt were entirely real. With the way he goes about his business in his dreams, I'm surprised he manages to keep all those...hormones under control when he sees you every day."

Cleo choked, water spurting out of her mouth.

"Though I'm more surprised that...he has not done those things in real life."

Cleo covered her mouth with her sleeve to prevent herself from coughing up the rest of the water.

***

Anastasia was pacing around the tree stump when Cleo came out of the witch's cottage. Catching sight of her, Anastasia ran up to Cleo, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"That witch...she didn't do anything to you, did she?" The silver-haired girl patted Cleo down. "You're not hurt anywhere, right?"

Cleo shook her head. "I'm fine. Let's get going. We should get back to the teleportation circle before anything bad happens."

Anastasia nodded and followed her employer out of the forest.

In the original novel, the woman who resided in the depths of the dark woods, the Witch of Smoke and Silver, known to some as the Mistress of Time, had made a name for herself with her incredible magical prowess and determination. She was famous among the reader fanbase, as well as in the story itself, for being the most formidable witch in the entire universe. Even the author confirmed, at one interview, that the witch was a god-like existence in the novel, second to none.

So if she was so powerful, how did Anastasia escape her bindings?