Though it took an effort of will as great as any she had mustered before, Aurora did not retreat as Balthazar rose and approached her.  Her eyes did close, for a moment, but it seemed like she was gathering her nerve about her, for when she opened them again, she met the ancient sorceror's eyes with regal, unflinching pride.  "Dreaming?  I find that most difficult to believe.  This does not feel at all like a dream.  It seems more real to me than anything I have ever felt before.  And you cannot be Balthazar Deschain.  He is dead these hundred years or more, killed by the Daggo.  Who are you really?"<br/><br/>As she spoke, she grew in confidence, and the fluid nature of the realm reflected that new state.  The dressing gown and the girlish way her hair was braided melted away in a swirl, and were replaced.  A lush, low cut gown of fine green velvet with a plunging neck and gold embroidery covered her lithe body, revealing the creamy smoothness of her shoulders and a hint of bosom, and upon her brow was a fine silver circlet.