Zehron lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his body aching but his mind restless. The events of the day replayed in his head, the wild brawl, Vaelen throwing himself in front of punches, Orien laughing even while dodging blows, and finally, the way he had stood tall at the end, feeling something awaken within him.
Yet, despite that small triumph, a nagging sense of dissatisfaction clawed at him. It wasn't enough.
His thoughts drifted to that day, the day the Solea Household's soldiers struck him down so effortlessly. The memory burned in his mind, their precise, practiced movements so vastly different from the uncoordinated swings of today's opponents. There was a difference. A gap. And it was massive.
He clenched his fist, feeling the bruises throb. If he truly wanted to fight in the underground battles, if he wanted to survive, if he wanted to be strong enough to never be knocked down like that again... this wasn't enough.
His mother's warm presence had comforted him for a moment, but now, alone in his room, all he could think about was how far he still had to go.
He lay on his bed, his body heavy with exhaustion, but his heart even heavier with the ache of helplessness. Elvienne. The name echoed in his mind like a plea, a whisper that refused to fade. He clenched his jaw, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. He was weak. He couldn't do anything for her.
The memory of her smile, the warmth of her presence, so close yet unreachable, made his chest tighten painfully. He had to see her. Even if only in a dream.
With a deep breath, he forced himself to concentrate. He had done this before, slipping into dreams, reaching for her across the veil of sleep. But tonight, his body fought him. Fatigue gnawed at him, trying to pull him into unconsciousness. No. He needed to do this. He had to see her.
Slowly, he let his mind drift, picturing her—the softness of her voice, the light in her eyes, the home she belonged to.
And then, he saw it.
A golden-glowed thread, floating in the darkness. His heart pounded as he reached for it. The moment he grasped it, he was pulled forward by an unknown force, and suddenly, he stood before the portal once more.
The sight of it filled him with an odd mix of relief and longing. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, entering the dreamworld....
The Everveil Tree stood tall in the center, its radiant branches swaying gently, as if alive. Around it, countless fivris—tiny glowing spirits—danced in the air like fireflies. And there, beneath its sprawling limbs, sat Elvienne.
She was plucking the velvety flowers, her fingers delicate as she wove them into a wreath. The tree itself moved, lowering its branches toward her so she could reach the blossoms with ease. When she finally completed the wreath, a soft chuckle escaped her lips.
Zehron's breath hitched. Her smile. It was so pure, so radiant, it made his heart ache in a way he couldn't describe.
The fivris, sensing her happiness, swirled around her in excitement, their golden light flickering in delight.
And then, her eyes found him.
She paused, tilting her head slightly, as if just realizing he was there. Then, with a warm, teasing smile, she said, "Zehron, why are you standing there like a statue? Come closer."
His legs moved before he could think, closing the distance between them. Each step felt surreal. She was right in front of him. Even if it was just a dream, just an illusion, he didn't care.
Her presence alone filled a void in his heart he hadn't even realized was so deep.
But before he could speak, she noticed something—his eyes.
A flicker of concern crossed her face as she looked at him. "Zehron… are you sad?"
He hesitated, then shook his head with a soft chuckle. "No. I'm not sad. I'm happy."
And before she could say another word, he pulled her into a tight embrace.
His arms wrapped around her, holding her as if afraid she would disappear. She was warm, real, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling, trying to engrave it into his soul. Because deep down, he knew—this was fleeting.
And he wasn't ready to wake up yet.
Elvienne gently pulled away from the embrace, her warm hands cupping Zehron's face. Her black eyes searched his, filled with tenderness, before she leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips.
The world around them stilled, as if time itself had paused for that fleeting moment.
Then, suddenly, she giggled and pulled away, taking the wreath with her as she turned on her heels and dashed away. "Catch me if you can!" she called out playfully, her voice light with laughter.
Zehron stood there for a second, stunned by the kiss, his lips tingling from her touch. Then, snapping out of it, he bolted forward, chasing after her.
As he ran, the world around him began to shift. The lush fields of fivris faded, and tall, colossal trees emerged in their place. The air grew denser, the scent of moss and damp earth filling his lungs. Streams of crystal-clear water glided between the towering roots of ancient trees, reflecting the glimmers of golden light that flickered in the distance.
"Vienne!" he called out, but his voice was swallowed by the vast silence.
His chest tightened. She was nowhere to be seen.
Panic began to creep in. He searched frantically, weaving between the trees, looking for any trace of her. The laughter that had once filled the air was now gone. Only the distant sound of rushing water remained.
"Vienne!" he called again, his voice now laced with desperation.
No response.
He pushed forward, his feet stumbling over uneven ground. And then—the earth beneath him vanished.
His body plummeted, tumbling down a steep cliff. Rocks and dirt scraped against his skin as he rolled violently down, until finally—he crashed onto the ground below.
In the distance, he heard it.
♬ Close your eyes, my love, don't cry tonight The stars above will hold you tight.
Drift away where dreams take flight,
In golden fields of endless light.♬
♩
♫The winds will hum a melody sweet,
The rivers sing where lovers meet.
Sleep, my heart, no pain shall stay,
For love will guide you far away…♫
♩
♬Should the stars begin to fade,
I'll still find you in the shade.
Whether child or heart so free,
You'll always have a home in me.♬
♬♫♩
His breath caught in his throat. That voice.
Zehron pushed himself up, and ran towards the sound.
And then, he saw her.
Under the vast shadow of a colossal tree, its roots stretching like veins through the earth, sat Elvienne.
Blood pooled around her, staining the ground in crimson. Her once-perfect dress was soaked in it, her delicate fingers trembling as she cradled something close to her chest.
Her raven black hair, usually smooth and radiant, was disheveled, strands sticking to her pale, sweat-drenched face. Her breaths were shallow, weak.
Zehron felt the world tilt beneath him. His body moved before his mind could comprehend, and he dropped to his knees before her.
"El..vienne—" His voice was barely a whisper, his hands shaking.
She looked up at him, exhaustion evident in her eyes, but she still smiled. A small, fragile smile.
"Zehron… come closer," her voice echoed through the forest!
He inched forward, his gaze fixed on the tiny bundle in her arms.
" Isn't she beautiful?"
Zehron froze. His chest tightened painfully, disbelief washing over him like a tidal wave.
Elvienne's fingers brushed over the baby's delicate features. "She… she looks just like you," she murmured. "Her eyes… her.. nose…her lips…"
Zehron's breath hitched. His daughter.
Tears welled in his eyes as he hesitantly reached out. His hands trembled as he carefully took the baby into his arms.
She was small, so small, her tiny fingers curling slightly as if reaching for him. Her eyes. They were his eyes—his exact shade.
His throat tightened, unable to contain the overwhelming emotions crashing over him.
The baby let out a small, innocent smile.
Zehron's vision blurred. His voice broke as he whispered, "She's… she's beautiful."
Elvienne's weak fingers reached up, gently placing the wreath atop the baby's fragile body.
She closed her eyes.
Zehron gasped awake.
His body jolted up from the bed, his breath ragged, heart hammering violently against his chest. A cold sweat clung to his skin, his shirt damp as he shivered, despite the warmth of the night.
His head throbbed painfully. A sharp, splitting ache drilled into his skull, as if something inside him had been torn apart. He winced, pressing a hand against his temple, trying to steady himself.
The dream still lingered—Elvienne's smile, the warmth of the baby in his arms, the wreath resting upon the child.
His daughter.
Zehron's hands curled into the sheets, his breath uneven. His heart felt like it was caught between longing and fear.
What… was that?
The pounding in his skull grew worse, the usual side effects of entering another's dream taking their toll. He clenched his jaw, waiting for the dizziness to subside, his muscles tensed from exhaustion.
As his breathing steadied, he ran a shaky hand through his damp hair, his eyes still wide.
Even if it was just a dream…
It felt real!