Somewhat old wintery layout!
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So yeah. There's this thing called Writer's Conference at my school that I do each year. Basically, we get authors to come and talk to us about writing. We also discuss each others entries.

This one is mine. There is a word limit (2500, I missed that and hit 2600 instead but oh well). Feedback would be nice.

A forewarning, the story switches back and forth between two "threads". Switches are indicated with a -----

============== Ritual ==============

Morning

The pale glow of early sunlight peeked through my bedroom window, illuminating the dark corners and removing any trace of night that may have lingered. The light slowly inched up the length of my bed until it fell upon my still-closed eyes, eroding the blanket of dreamless sleep that I rested under. As my consciousness returned I yawned and groggily sat up in bed, scratching the side of my neck and stretching various body parts in order to get the circulation going again. Finally ready to move I threw the blankets off of me and shifted my legs over the side of the bed, letting one last yawn escape before finally standing up. I trudged across the room (which is rather large, furnished with various bookshelves, desks, tapestries, wall mountings, and everything else in between) and grabbed a deep blue bath robe hanging on the wall. Shaking my head of the last remnants of sleep, I opened the door next to me and walked through it, sighing slightly before closing it shut with a swish of my tail.

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I should probably explain a few things about myself before I get into the rest of my story. My name is Sine Ferlong. I am 18 years old, or what would be considered a rough equivalent in ‘human years’. By the way, I’m not human; I’m a Draconid – a kind of dragon-like creature without wings. The whole concept is sort of difficult to explain in full really. Anyway, I come from a long line of Dracos dating back into the years before the Great Shift – that event is also a story for another day. My bloodline stems from a special breed of Draconid called ‘dream walkers’. In a nutshell, being a dream walker constitutes the ability to ‘travel’ the dream realm. Every being - that means humans, Dracos, and all other intelligent species - enters the dream realm when they fall asleep. The only major difference is that dream walkers have full access to the entirety of the dream realm, giving them the power to traverse between the dreams of those currently dreaming. Hence the name “dream walker”. This power is truly great, as therein lay the potential to help heal, but also the potential to inflict harm. Indeed with the ability to traverse dreams, one can have immense influence over the mental state of another.

The problems with this ability are probably already apparent. Just like any other society, not everyone is born with the greatest intentions. Furthermore those who are born as dream walkers cannot have their power stripped from them. This gift is also unable to be transferred, even if someone were to infuse themselves with the blood of a ‘Gifted’.

It was shortly after the time of the Great Shift that the entire species fell into disarray. Things slowly turned for the worse, and my race entered a time of great corruption. Gifted began using their power for the harm of Draconid-kind; corrupted ones kidnapping Gifted and threatening them and their kin in order to achieve their twisted goals. Unspeakable things occurred during that dark time. It was in this time that the High-Council, a temporary group who attempted to act as a ruling power, was formed. But even they proved unable to do anything about the crisis.

Many months passed. Finally, the uncorrupted took a stand and collaborated with the Council. Through their combined efforts, they discovered a way to “lock” the power of a Gifted. It would not remove the power; merely constrain the Gifted to his or her own mind, preventing access to the rest of the dream realm. From then, the tides of the war turned, and the corrupted were slowly imprisoned, both physically and in the dream realm. The world would return to peace, or so it seemed for a while.

-----

I turned the running water off and felt its enveloping warmth dissipate from around my blue-scaled body. I lingered in the steam for a few moments and inhaled deeply, feeling a calming effect wash over me. Finally with the steam disappearing, I grabbed a fluffy towel and dried off. Once finished drying, I exited the shower and wrapped myself in the bathrobe I brought in earlier. My foot claws clicked against the tiled floor as I moved to the sink where other various items laid scattered about. After a few more minutes of completing my remaining hygienic tasks, I left the bathroom walked over to the rather large bay windows facing the rising sun. I sighed and sat down in a ruby red armchair positioned near the windows, gazing out at the horizon.

-----

The High-Council was praised for their action – those ignorant fools who gave them that praise – and thusly life returned to resemble something like it once was. With the Order now permanently in power, many thought that the Draconid race would enter a golden age. But the real corruption had only begun. Armed with this newfound power over dream walkers, and with fear still simmering in the public, the High-Council embarked on a secret crusade targeting those unfound Gifted. Men, women, and children were rounded up, regardless of social status, power, or influence. Their abilities were sealed away for the rest of their lives. It was during this period that the Council refined the so-called ‘art’ of locking power away. Their efforts led them to more effective techniques – perhaps too effective.

The first time it happened the public was outraged. Something had apparently gone wrong with the locking process, and the Gifted became completely unresponsive, almost as if in a deep sleep. The conclusion was that the subject had been locked within the confines of his own mind, trapped in the dream realm as well as devoid of all related powers. The probability of recovery was non-existent. It was a fate deemed worse than death, and even those still in fear were in agreement that the Order had gone too far. With the bout of disproval, the Council backed down from its escapade, but this aversion did not last long. A group of Gifted – or so the myth says – eventually found a way to reverse the process. With the original victim supposedly cured, the old, cruel ways of the government slowly resurfaced. With the ability to lock people away for good – not just a Gifted, mind you – the Order had an undeniably powerful judicial weapon at their disposal. Prisons were no longer a necessity to house corrupted; their own heads would make for a rather ironic end.

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Midday

The sun was now high in the sky, beating down upon the barren landscape that surrounded the towering mansion. In every direction, the desolate wasteland could be seen spreading to the horizon. Fragments of chaos appeared and disappeared like minute thoughts. I brushed a random silver-blue hair from out of my eyes – yes, some Draconids do have hair – and threw a glance out the window. However, something caught my eye and sat up at attention, eyes peeled. A solitary tree stood in the middle of nowhere, thriving with life, surrounded by a small patch of green grass. “That wasn’t there yesterday…maybe…” but my thought was cut off as a loud cracking sound erupted from outside. A violently orange and purple chaos fragment had appeared inside of the tree, splitting it in two. The surrounding patch of grass instantly showed signs of wilting. I sighed mentally and went back to my inactive state in the armchair, absentmindedly pushing a lock of hair behind my large, pointed ear.

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So where do I fit into this story? Why have I bothered to give you an entire explanation of my ancestry? The reasons are many, but I hope with this knowledge you may come to better understand my story.
As I said, before, I am a dream walker, and was born into a prestigious family of dream walkers: one-eighth bloodline on my mother’s side, and one-fourth bloodline on my father’s side. I grew up a curious child, always getting into mischief, but my mother and father loved me very much. It wasn’t until the human equivalent of my fourteenth year that my true self began to emerge.

Or should I say my true selves. It is a rare condition in Draconids - I believe humans call it “Split personality disorder”. But essentially, I was one body housing two minds. My dominant personality happened to be the curious, fun-loving, adventurous little Draco, one that appeared “normal” to the outside world. The other side of my personality is completely devoid of all of those qualities. Vicious, loathing, unfeeling, and even dangerous, my second personality is quite literally my ‘evil twin’.

The first time my recessed side escaped, my parents took it as a childhood outburst. They thought nothing of it; I was a young Draco growing up with the problems that everyone faced: education, peer pressure, stress. But the outbursts continued to occur, the time between growing short and the length of the outbursts growing longer. My elders finally took me to the village Sayer – a sort of doctor for the race. Using his knowledge, we were able to quell my secondary personality. The outbursts never surfaced again, and my life returned to what most would call normal. There was, however, another unforeseen problem that would prove to be much greater than anyone could have ever anticipated.

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Afternoon

The sun was now inching downwards from the sky, its light casting an eerie glow on the wasteland outside my window. I had long since left the armchair, instead choosing to unravel a piece of canvas and alleviate my boredom through the visual arts. As I shaded a section of my sketch in progress, my mind drifted back to the tree in the middle of the barren environment. Putting my tools down and my colors aside, I crossed the room suddenly struck with an idea. Gazing out at the lifeless stump, I touched a claw to my head, and channeled my thoughts toward the dead plant. I imagined it growing tall and green, swaying in a cool spring breeze, various creatures playing around it. Suddenly, it was as if time reversed itself. The remains of the plant were surrounded with a bright blue glow, and in almost an instant, the tree was standing again, completely devoid of all damage. Content with the results of my ‘experiment’ I moved back to the canvas in order to finish my creation

-----

It was only a few months after my ‘curing’ that many, apparently unconnected incidents began to occur. Seemingly at random, Draconids, humans, and other species alike were going to sleep, and failing to wake the next morning. They were not dead, at least they did not appear to be. Their bodies were still completely healthy, and still breathing, but they failed to respond to any stimuli. After two months of continued reports, the Order structured an investigation into the matter. The result of the investigation turned up the most curiously horrifying discovery made by Draconid-kind to that date. The victims had literally been murdered in the dream realm – something originally thought to be proven impossible by the Gifted centuries ago. The ‘dream death’ was deemed irreversible. The Order attempted to hide their findings, but it was no use. In no time, the discovery was leaked and the public exploded into a frenzy of fear. With an unknown “killer” apparently on the loose and nobody knowing how to stop him (or her), things seemed hopeless.

For the answer to this mystery, we turn to me. You see, when the Sayer ‘cured’ me, there was one unfortunate side-effect. The cure constituted removing the psychological ties that bound me with my alternate personality. This action would normally have locked him away in my mind, but the true problem lies with my blood. As a dream walker, this cure proved ineffective. While I slept peacefully, my second half (now unconstrained by the connection that kept him in my own mind) was free to roam through the dream realm as he so pleased. I was the catalyst for a monster that I didn’t even know existed. I remained completely unaware of my situation, until one night, almost one year later.

This is the night where my story began. That night, my second side picked the wrong target and failed his wicked deed. He retreated back into my mind, but it was no use. The victim was able to remember the identity of his attacker with great detail. It did not take long for the Order to track me down. They took me away from my family, transported me to the high-security prison, deemed me to be “highly dangerous”, and sentenced me to self-imprisonment all in the span of one hour. The ‘sealing ritual’ was performed on me that night.

…Those fools…

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Time passes.

I preoccupied myself by continuing to work my painting. Satisfied with my progress, I ventured back to the window in order to check on my ‘experiment’. The tree was surprisingly still standing strong, like an island in the middle of the ocean. My hopes soon ebbed as I saw a bright red chaos figment rapidly approaching. Reacting quickly, I focused in on the tree again, this time imagining a large wall surrounding it, almost like a fortress. The same blue glow appeared again, and then disappeared. My hope was almost lost, but what happened next surprised me. Instead of slicing through the tree, the chaos figment crashed into a sort of invisible barrier, bouncing off and dissipating into a cloud of multicolored smoke. Pleased with my latest endeavor I walked back to the canvas, grinning and swishing my tail slightly in mild excitement. It was the first smile that had appeared on my face in quite some time.

-----

The world I woke up in was very different. The sun glowed with a paler color; the field I woke up in was completely barren. Everything seemed very surreal. But most importantly, there was not another soul in sight: no family, no Order, not even an animal. I was completely alone, devoid of all knowledge of where I was or what had happened. But worst of all, I was trapped – trapped with the very source of all the turmoil.

How do I know all of this? After two years of being trapped within my own mind, I have learned much. I learned of the presence of my other half soon after my arrival. By some miracle I was able to save myself from him. This mansion I live in is the last sane corner of my mind that he cannot touch. The rest of my mind belongs to him. In time, I discovered a way to communicate with others in the dream realm. In this way I gather information from the outside world, and keep myself sane. Because of this, the mansion stands as the last remaining barrier against my less civilized side. My one and only hope is that one day, I will be the only one occupying my mind.

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Night

As the sun fell below the horizon, I returned to the window to look at my tree. It stood tall and proud surrounded by the sea of despair. As the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, I noticed that the tree shimmered with its familiar blue aura. After a few minutes I broke my gaze and walked across the room to the bathroom. I emerged in a deep-violet robe and strode over to my bed. As I curled up under the covers, my mind wandered to the discoveries I had made today. It wandered to the unfinished picture still hanging on the canvas. It wandered to the evil I knew lurked beyond in the distance.

And it wandered to the tree, standing strong in the ruins of my mind.

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FOE! FOE! FOE! FOE!