Oneironaut

 The morning shifts always ran smoothly with Marcus around. There was a kind of unspoken magic about him, one that seemed to defuse tension before it even had the chance to take root. The number of bad customers Marcus had encountered while running the café could be counted on one hand—an impressive feat, considering the unpredictable nature of the caffeine-starved. It made The Daily Grind a haven for its regulars, a modern-day relic of calm amidst the bustle of the city. Of course, most of them had no idea what they were stepping into, oblivious to the divine threads woven through the walls of this unassuming sanctuary.

Sarah, however, was a familiar face now, a welcome fixture in the daily rhythm of the café. The regulars greeted her with warm smiles and nods, having grown fond of her cheery demeanor and quick wit. Her presence was like a soft melody that complemented Marcus's steady, grounding presence, and together, they created an atmosphere that drew people in and made them linger just a little longer.

It was during a lull between customers, the café bathed in the warm light of a late morning, that Marcus decided to speak. He glanced up from the espresso machine, his movements unhurried as he wiped down the counter. "Hey Sarah," he began casually, though there was a subtle hesitation in his tone. "Would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?"

Sarah, who had been refilling the pastry case, paused mid-motion. She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Her expression quickly shifted to one of delight, a warm smile spreading across her face. "Yes! I would love to!" she exclaimed, her voice bright and enthusiastic.

The outburst echoed through the normally quiet café, causing every customer to look up from their coffee cups and conversations. Realizing her volume, Sarah froze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She cast a sheepish glance over her shoulder at the curious patrons, who, after a moment of awkward silence, returned to their previous activities with knowing smiles.

"Sorry," she mumbled, biting her lip as she turned back to Marcus.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and warm, his amusement clear but kind. "No need to apologize," he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I'll take that as a yes, then."

Sarah nodded, the flush still lingering on her cheeks as she tried to suppress a grin. "Absolutely. Where are we going?"

Marcus's smile widened, a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. "That," he said, his tone playful, "is a surprise. Let's just say it's a place that serves more than just good food."

Intrigued, Sarah tilted her head, but she didn't press for details. She had learned by now that Marcus liked his mysteries, and she found herself looking forward to whatever he had planned. "Alright," she said with a laugh. "I guess I'll just have to wait and see."

The two shared a brief, companionable silence, the hum of the café wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. Outside, the faint bustle of the street filled the air, the chatter of pedestrians and the occasional bark of a dog blending into the background of their little world. For a moment, it was easy to forget the weight of the divine and the secrets that lingered just beneath the surface of their lives. Here, in the golden light of a quiet morning, everything felt simple. Peaceful.

The rest of the day was a breeze for everyone involved. Customers received their coffees on time, and just a single sip seemed to melt their worries away, leaving them with warm smiles and lightened shoulders. Marcus had Sarah practicing her serving skills, gently guiding her to perfect the art of blending strands of divinity into the drinks. She had taken to it quickly, though there were still moments—during the busier rushes—where Marcus had to step in and help her weave the delicate threads of magic with precision.

By the time the last customer left and the café doors were locked, the air was filled with a sense of accomplishment and contentment. Marcus and Sarah sat at one of the small wooden tables, the remains of their day's work spread out before them—inventory sheets, the ordinary logbook, and two cups of freshly brewed coffee. They joked and chatted about the more eccentric customers they'd encountered, laughing at a man who had tried to order a "triple-shot half-caff mocha with a dash of divinity," not realizing just how literal that last part was in this café.

Finally, Marcus leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile as he closed the logbook and placed it gently on the table. "Alright," he said, his tone shifting from lighthearted to focused, "it's time for tonight's practice."

Sarah straightened in her seat, setting her empty coffee cup aside as Marcus pointed to the book. "You've been doing well," he began, his voice calm but firm. "You've learned to sense and describe the feelings resonating in the moments we create here. That's no small feat, Sarah—it's a skill most mortals couldn't even comprehend. But…" He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "It's nowhere near the limit of what a Truthspeaker can do."

Sarah's brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Truth," Marcus continued, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, "is often said to be subjective. People like to believe it changes depending on perspective, that it's fluid and fickle. But the truth is… it's not. Not really. The world may wrap it in layers of illusion, but at its core, truth is constant. It's there, even when we can't see it."

He met Sarah's gaze, his dark eyes steady and unwavering. "As a Truthspeaker, you have the ability to find that truth. Not just in people, but in everything—humans, gods, magic, and even the divine itself. Your talent allows you to cut through the noise, the convolution, and uncover the reality hiding beneath it all."

Sarah's breath caught at the gravity of his words, and she leaned forward, her attention entirely on him. Marcus smiled slightly, pleased to see her focus, and continued.

"We're going to start refining that ability tonight," he said. "The first step is learning to navigate the layers of truth, to see through the veils and memories that obscure it. This step is called Oneironaut. It's the title given to those who can navigate memories—memories of others, memories of moments—as if they themselves experienced them. It's the first step to unlocking the deeper potential of your gift."

"Oneironaut…" Sarah repeated softly, the word rolling off her tongue like a whisper. "You're saying I'll be able to… relive memories? Like stepping into someone else's past?"

Marcus nodded. "Exactly. It's more than just understanding what someone tells you. You'll be able to feel it, see it, experience it as if it were your own. The truth isn't always in the words people speak—it's in the moments they live, in the fragments of memory that shape who they are."

"That sounds… incredible," Sarah admitted, though a flicker of doubt crossed her face. "But also a little overwhelming."

"It is," Marcus said, his tone empathetic. "Which is why we'll take it slow. This isn't something you rush into. The ability to navigate memories comes with risks. You'll need to learn how to discern between what's real and what's distorted, between what's yours and what belongs to someone else. It takes practice, focus, and trust in your instincts."

Sarah nodded, her apprehension giving way to determination. "Alright," she said, her voice steady. "Where do we start?"