It had taken a lot of talking on her part to convince the family that she could help, it always seemed to take a lot of talking when she moved to a new village. Inarael wasn't sure if she was tired of it, or not, but at least she had been given her chance once again.
She spoke those words, the words she had formulated in her heart, that made sense to her, as she felt her soul melt into the mind of the sickly daughter of a pair of farmers. In terms of looks, one could have imagined that she and Inarael were the same age, though perhaps not entirely the case.

Inarael was almost a hundred years old, yet she looked no older than twenty, typical for an elf. But by their standards; she was still young, young and barely experienced int he world. Yet with almost a century and a head full of notions, she set out, to be free of their rules, their concerns.. And their fears..

The Kingdom of Aldfell had suffered in recent years. It seemed small at first, minor accidents at critical locations, occasional monster attacks, orcish rogues wandering the roads and various other manner of creature. However it wasn't until the Nightmare Plague began that the people started to take notice of their misfortunes.
The Nightmare Plague, a disease incurable by healing magics, by alchemical potions and certainly by prayer. It mattered not whom people prayed to, or why, or where, or how, the plague would not leave their victims.

They would perish, writhing their last as whatever dark dreams corrupted their minds consumed their life and left a deadened husk. It was only right to assume that something darker and more terrible was behind it, the coincidence of the monster attacks resulting in this plague gave rise to hunters, But even these brave hunting parties could find no source, only an unsettling truth; many more of the darker creatures were beginning to infest the surrounding lands, preying on villagers and wanderers of the road. Yet with the plague coming from many different creatures, it left their actual source unknown and the hunters scrambling for clues as to which monsters they should hunt the most.

Yet Inarael sought differently. With everyone so focused on the monsters, few really considered the plague itself. Few really wanted to know more about it, other than how to cure it. And she could, after a fashion.

-----------------------------------

The world formed around her, the images of the local village, the memories of static objects, the lamps on the road and the buildings. The fields and farms were cut off form one another, left scarred and torn open. But the world was dark, grey, the sky twisted and warped, unable to take form. Thorn bushes stretched across pathways, keeping those who wished to pass from continuing further.
Inarael stood beneath one of the lamps on the road, it was where she materialized,t he whole world had formed around her, she stood as a nexus for this solidified dream, the once chaotic mind forced into an appearance that could be seen, understood and recognized.

And she heard a cry in the distance, without a doubt the memory of this girl. She was being attacked. in her mind she was reliving the attack, but not only was the memory of her attacker still clear in the mind, her terrors were coming to life, creatures, monsters, much akin to the outside world, in here, the creatures were far more monstrous. Living apparitions, creations of the mind, fear and terror, all prepared to chase, hunt down and eventually kill the girl, through exhaustion and fright.

But with the way these twisted creatures worked, she had to find a way past the blocks in the girl's mind, all attempts to bury herself or hide away from the monsters, they too had to chase her and find their way until they could consume her.
Inarael walked quickly, but softly, with no more than a small harp in hand, her eyes gently seeking through the darkness. She navigated the first maze of thorns quickly and calmly until she came across a clearing that seemed almost like a forest, greater thorns arcing over the area.

Her alertness was rewarded as the apparitions of fear came to life around her, at least, some of the fears. Slender figures, sharp, tooth-filled jaws and raking claws for hands. They shambled towards her swiftly, however this was where the power of a Dreamwalker came to light.
She swung the harp towards one, however it changed form, stretching, shifting, an elongated handle, a lengthy steel blade. The first nightmare she struck was torn apart and she turned to the handful that remained.
In the real world, she could take care of herself well enough, but in the realm of dreams and nightmares; she was powerful.

She kept her poise, smiling broadly even as she struck another of the creatures overhead. His for scattered into dust whilst Inarael gently danced on her feet, thrusting the sword into the next nightmare and cutting clear out of it, again it scattered to dust and ashes whilst she turned towards the remaining few, face still gentle and smiling.
She would stop these nightmares for good and save this girl.