Then the umbrella comment lied. You can indeed make out that the room is totally circular; it has a diameter of about twenty feet. There are two doors -- the one you came in from, and an identical one directly across from you. The firepit is in the exact center of the room, and there's an unlit lantern a little to one side of it.

The cauldron over the fire is deep and round bottomed, made of cast iron, and it's full of some dark liquid... sea water? Blood? Tar? It's hard to tell. The firepit itself is a solid ring of smooth, white stone -- the same material as the floor. The walls and ceiling are a shiny silver blue nacre, like the inside of a shell. They are lined with narrow wooden shelves all the way around, covered with a miscellany of objects.

Mau looks up and tries to turn to see you, although he can't turn very far; he keeps his hands pressed to the sides of the cauldron like they're glued to it. He looks exhausted, drawn, and there are tears streaming down his face.

"...Josh..?"

*sad bro gets a hug, this is a reflex. not touching the cauldron, though.*

Yeah. It's me.

He leans into it, still crying soundlessly -- he feels insubstantial, weightless, and his hands stay pressed to the cauldron.

"I'm having a bad dream." His voice is just a murmur, indistinct and so very tired.

*some of that aura might be flowing into him, lending him strength*

I got that part. How do I change it?

That seems to be working. He looks up at you, and sounds stronger when he speaks again.

"From here, or... where it's happening?"

Either way. Both, maybe.

Slowly, like he's trying to remember something distant:

"Light helps, here. And... you can change what's in the cauldron, but I don't know the right pieces. Or I can send you..."

Let me see what I can do here before you send me anywhere.

*and his aura flares up to brilliance, a spark leaping from it to light the lantern*

The room lights up, bright as day. The lantern light is perfectly steady. You can see everything in the room now -- the items lined up neatly on the shelves, all manner of strange and ordinary thing. Knives, silver fish, hats, teeth, glass stars, musket balls, dried flowers, bowls of liquid and sand, feathers...

And the liquid in the cauldron. It's not just blackness. There are pictures moving in it.

*glances down at them, keeping a hand on Mau's shoulder*

You see Mau, running through the dark.

A tiny sandbar, crowded with people -- people from Aather, Mau's family, who you'll recognize from the memory of his childhood, people who came to the Nation later, dancing and laughing.

You see the island rise, cupped in hands made of darkness, and great grey wings -- they must be as big as the sky -- closing over everything.

And all the people Mau knows, caught and crushed between fingers the size of treetrunks, hands made of sea and storm and falling stone.

Selenia's face turned up willingly toward the face of death.

And Mau flinging himself at Locaha, tiny and insignificant, battering himself against those closed wings, ineffectual, but fighting, always fighting.

*thoughtful...*

I don't know if treating symptoms is going to do more good than treating the source.

"But that's me. And I can't... I stay here, doing the dreaming. It's what I do."

Not what I meant. I meant where it's happening.

He shivers.

"I can send you there... most of the way."

*hugs him tighter*

I'm not sure what else to do here. But there...I have an idea.

"It's going to be dangerous."

I kind of figured.

"I know, but I had to say it.

The thread will take you there."

Okay.

I'll be back.

*feeds a little more of his aura into him, then squeezes him a little and let go*

"Thank you. All you have to do is take the end of the spool."

He's definitely more alert than he was when you showed up, and turns to watch you go, pulling back against where his hands are planted.

Okay.

...would it help if you weren't holding that thing so tight?

He looks startled, like that's never occurred to him.

"I -- it might."

*o-oh, bro*

It's worth a try, right? Need help letting go?

He tries to pull his hands away and his whole body shudders in a spasm of pain; he cries out, a brief choked-off scream that subsides to panting.

"I can't do it myself."