Quinn found himself onstage.
He stood in an amphitheater. In a massive half-circle before him stood one hundred thousand audience members. Most were men and women, but he saw cyclopes and dragons as well. He stared at them in awe.
Perform for us, fool! someone whispered in his mind.
Quinn looked for the source. There, nestled among the human audience, sat coiled the dragon from his previous vision. Its scales seemed darker than before. Quinn smiled at the serpent and waved.
Sing, fool! said the dragon. Your audience is holding their breath.
"They’re all here to see me?" asked Quinn.
The dragon smiled.
Quinn took a deep breath, looked around at the crowd, and threw his hands into the air. The multitude cheered. He began to sing.
He sang a song he did not know; a song he had never heard or sang. It flowed out of him like water, unbidden. It told a tale of warriors far from home, seeking a treasure they would never find. It hit all the right notes: camaraderie, purpose, betrayal, madness, and sorrow. When it ended, the crowd stood silent for a second before bursting with applause.
Quinn’s whole face lit up. He sang more songs from nowhere: love songs, comical songs, uplifting songs. He danced, juggled, and did feats of acrobatics. He went on for two hours before he remembered: always leave them wanting more. He came back for only two encores.
It was during the first encore that something clicked in his mind. He focused his will, and every person in the audience saw visions of star folk dancing around him and above them. The crowd gasped with awe.
The dragon whispered to him, See how easy it is?
At the end of the second encore, He looked over at the dream-dragon and said, "I could get used to this!"
You will.