It rings throughout the ages. Like an echo across time. Its meaning hasn't yet been revealed to you. It's only a matter of time. The end of one cycle and the beginning of another. Imagine a loop that can adjust and reshape itself with each turn. Deja vu, but never quite the same twice. The sand keeps pouring. The last grain will bring the truth…

Travelers using the Zaap network have been falling victim to strange incidents. After investigation, it turns out they were experiencing temporal anomalies. They're invisible because they're located at the edges of reality… but their effects are indeed visible. Their presence is disturbing the creatures of the World of Twelve. Not to mention the other consequences, like clocks running fast or slow, and Xelors' headaches. The anomalies might even cause the Continuum – the very fabric of spacetime – to collapse! Where do they come from? It's a mystery I'm trying to solve.

I am Xelor's Emissary.

They're talking about a child in Amakna…

Since falling from a Dragoturkey a few weeks ago, he apparently gained the ability to see into the future. Everything he proclaims seems to happen. The art of prophecy isn't something just anyone can do. Most of the time, it's trickery and theatrics. But nothing can be ruled out…

… Why was the stagecoach slowing down?

The driver opened a flap in the wall that separated us, letting the wind and rain inside:

"Travelers, m'lady!" he cried from under his scarf.

"So…?" I answered.
"They're waving. Should I stop so they can get on or…?"
"We don't have time!"
"Very well, m'lady."

He closed the flap right away. Brrr… It had only taken a few seconds for the cold to enter the coach! I put my hood up and buttoned my fur coat to the top before turning around. Through the back window, I could make out two figures in the drab gray landscape – a tall, red-haired Sram, soaked to the skin, who seemed to be in a bad mood (she must have been insulting me viciously); at her side, a little Xelor, motionless beneath his large dripping hat. I couldn't make out his face, but I got the impression he was smiling.


When I knocked at the door, a Masqueraider lady opened it and showed me inside her little house. Being polite, she lifted up her large tribal mask. A small, round, smiling face was hiding behind the exaggerated fixed grin.

"Follow me! Smoussy is playing in his room…"

"Thanks for having me, Mrs. Turancyd. I won't bother you for long…"
"Take your time!" the little mother assured me, easily weaving her way through a maze of poorly lit narrow corridors, where I was bumping into almost everything. "And call me Mimie! I don't often have visitors, let alone a pretty lady dressed so well… You're working on the temporal anomalies, is that right?"
"Yes, ma'am. Maybe it's got nothing to do with it, but if what they say about your son is true, it's possible that his testimony will provide additional information to the investigation."
"The village Sorcerer says he's got the som…"
"… The 'sim', you mean?"
"Yes, that's it!" Mimie Turancyd answered before giggling. "I'm sorry; I'm terrible with that kind of jargon…"
"According to a Huppermage theory, the sim is a magical storage space inside every one of us. Right here… (I pointed to my right temple, meaning my head.) A space we apparently don't use. Yet it contains an energy that they call 'light '. It's been observed in some trauma victims. It remains an unsubstantiated theory…"
"Now that you're explaining it… I understand it even less!"
"I'll send you my report." I replied, while she opened Smoussy's bedroom door.

I first saw the little boy from behind and against the light. He was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room. He must have been five or six. A warm bright light from the window seemed to be wrapped around him. Yet it had been gray and cold outside just a moment ago… The child was making a repetitive movement that I could not understand just then, but I'm certain he was whispering. His mother called his name. He immediately turned around, even slightly early, which surprised me. He was wearing a colorless and expressionless wooden mask. The doll he was combing on his lap was wearing exactly the same outfit as the child, kind of like a "mini-him". At that moment, I wondered what I had come here to do.

"This is the Xelor's Emissary I told you about, Smoussy. Be polite and take off your mask to talk to her!"

He lifted up the piece of wood covering his face, a face that reassured me as much as his mother's had done earlier. He was indeed a child! All that was left was the scary doll on his lap.

"Hello! Could you tell me what happened to you? The accident, the visions…"

"They're not visions, miss. They're reality, but… I dream it first. They're dreams that exist for real! (He then made his doll ride on a stuffed toy dragon.) I was on my way home from school on Lacto, my Dragoturkey. We were coming out of the village Zaap when she went off all crazy, as if she was feeling giddy… (He made his stuffed toy rear…) I tried to calm her down, but it didn't work. And wham! (… then made his doll crash to the floor.) At least that's what it seems… I don't remember falling. That's when I had my first dream." (He put his doll back on his lap.)

His eyes froze. He stared off into nowhere and his doll seemed to be staring at me. I jumped when a deep, guttural voice came out of little Smoussy Turancyd's mouth:


Then, he put the doll to his ear, as if it were whispering something to him. He turned its head one quarter, showing me another of the doll's faces – a wretched figure.

"I look forward to reaping what we've sown!" he said in a new voice that was nasal and mocking.

"What… What are you talking about, Smoussy?" I asked him. He blinked as if he was suddenly coming around.
"… Well, I'm talking about my first dream," he said, without realizing his absence. I saw a hooded adventurer. He was young. He reminds me of you… he seemed outside of time. Like in a loop…"
"Yeah, that's what he said in my head! That he was on the trail of a… power over which his god was no control…"
"You mean 'over which Xelor had no control'?"
"Yeah, that's what I said. After that, I had much truer dreams… Well, for me… For example, I saw Jan Mich, the village baker, letting his bread burn in his oven because he was just talking to some girls from the Treech shop. And again after that, I saw all Kuja's Dragoturkeys escaping from their paddock because he hadn't locked it properly and was too busy counting his Gobballs…"
"How did you know that it really happened?"
"Mom went to see them after I told her. And each time, well… she showed up just in time to avoid disaster. The baker and the breeder looked at her funny, she told me."
"Did you have an inexplicable dream, like the first one?"

He then brought the doll to his ear and nodded in agreement, as if he were listening to it, before turning his head again. It showed a new face, aggressive this time.

"It's time to go on the offensive!" he exclaimed with a new authoritarian voice.

Another quarter turn of the head revealed an abhorrent and corrupt face.

"There's no need to rush. We'll see the fruits of our labor soon."

He did it again. A new face and a new voice:

"They will all be my slaves!"

Each time, I felt like someone else was talking through the little Masqueraider. I could count multiple personalities. It gave me the heebie-jeebies… That's when Smoussy accidentally ripped the head off his doll, probably because he was squeezing it too hard. It was like he suddenly just… broke the connection, and he continued as if nothing had happened:

"Weird… I can't really remember my second dream. I think there was a dragon and… feathers. But… I can't remember. It's gone! It must be the voices… Sometimes, they steal dreams from me…

  • "What voices?"
  • "The ones I sometimes hear in the middle of the night and that wake me from my dreams. The ones from the closet."
  • "From the closet?"
  • "Yeah, over there!"

He showed me a door just behind me that I hadn't noticed until now. As I was crouched down to Smoussy Turancyd's height, I discovered the big white door, which was dotted with monstrous children's drawings. Before my eyes, written in red crayon, I read:


I mouthed: "Nightmare".

I opened the door… and held back a scream when a mop fell on me! Smoussy and his doll laughed. I mean… he laughed. I think.

At that moment, I decided to talk to Magus Ax about this child. I'd let him decide if we had to warn anyone else. Someone who could interpret these signs better than me.

The Master of Dreams will be waiting for you in an upcoming in-game quest in late October. Until then… sleep tight!