Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I rolled out of bed. Arfred, my dog, was sitting up next to my bed looking at me the way I looked at him whenever he'd leap out of bed and sprint into a wall.
"It was an intense dream," I said, realizing that I was completely drenched in sweat. Then smiling at the mutt, I sneered, "At least I didn't go banging into walls."
He yipped, but I knew he didn't understand me.
Today was a school day, and my alarm was going off. It should've woke me at six thirty, but it was nearly seven already, so I hurried to shower and get ready then made my way down the stairs for breakfast.
Mom, dad, and my little sister Mirina were already sitting at the table.
"Sam, honey... is something wrong?" Mom asked.
I did feel a bit dizzy, but I shook my head no. My plate was already set so I joined them and hurriedly scarfed down my food. I was starving despite having had a large dinner and several snacks before bed. It felt like I hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Excited for your tournament tomorrow?" Dad asked between bites.
I nodded even though I really wasn't. Training was fine, it helped me blow off steam and gave me confidence that I'd never be in a situation I couldn't get out of. The tournaments were just a hassle though. It seemed like everyone was slower and weaker than me; I could beat most of them blindfolded.
One year I had even asked to fight blindfolded, but was told that would violate the rules. The referee even made some snarky comment about overconfidence then said something about me probably going down in the first round. I won every match without letting my opponents touch me once.
After that year, I started deliberately slowing down and trying to match my opponents pace. I still won every match but it fueled suspicions that I had somehow cheated in previous tournaments.
At this point I wanted to drop fighting all together, but Dad refused to allow it.
"I can't hold it anymore!" Mirina shouted. "Mom and dad wanted it to be a surprise, but I just have to tell you. The tournament got canceled, but there's a new fair in town called fantasy land, it's all VR but they have the place set up so you can walk around a mythical village and it's like you're really there."
"Really where?" I asked.
"In the fantasy world!"
"Oh, that's cool. So what's the surprise?"
Mom sighed then went and pulled something out of a drawer.
"Happy birthday, Sam." She smiled as she slid four tickets across the table. "I know how much you like those east sock eye—"
"Isekai," I corrected with a chortle.
"Whatever, you know what I mean."
"Yea mom. Thanks, and you too dad. It sounds like it'll be fun."
Mirina bounced in her seat. "I told you he'd love it! How could he not!" She declared.
I was beginning to think she might be more excited about it than I was.
After finishing the last of my breakfast, I headed out the door. It wasn't until I got to school and saw Clair at her desk that I realized what had been bothering me all morning. It was my dream. Vorlin, the top combat instructor in Faerelle, looked exactly like my dad—if he was an elf with pointy ears, brown hair, and green eyes. In the dream, Clair had white hair, but aside from that and being an elf, the dream version of her was nearly identical to how she really looked, but younger.
It was unsettling given how real the dream felt, but it was just a dream. Reasoning that most dreams mix reality and fiction, I pushed the thoughts aside and tried to focus.
Most of the school day went as usual. I listened to the teacher's lectures, did my classwork, and tried to pay attention. I tried, but instead I found myself doodling mindlessly as I daydreamed about a magical forest city.
Just then, a tap on the shoulder jolted me out of my seat. I hit my knee on my desk as I jumped up.
"Shi—mmm." I stopped short of cursing.
As I rubbed my sore knee, Clair giggled beside me.
My heart skipped a beat when I realized it was Clair trying to get my attention.
"Hey, do you want to hang out after school today?" she asked, giving a smile that dazzled me into a stupor.
She shifted her weight from foot to foot and turned her face slightly away from me, but not enough to break eye contact. "So...do you want to chill or what?"
My face felt hot with the realization I was taking too long to answer. I probably looked goofy staring at her while I tried to process what was happening. I tried to play it off with a casual, "Yeah, sure." But the words came out too eager.
"Great, we can leave together after the final bell," she said before going back to her desk.
I tried to focus on my studies for the rest of the period, but I had a new distraction to deal with. I'd had a crush on Clair for years. I had fantasized about being alone with her, and on three separate occasions, I even convinced myself I'd ask her out. I never dreamed she'd eventually be the one to approach me and I couldn't help but wonder what she had in mind.
Was this going to be like a date, or was she just wanting to copy my notes?
When the final bell rang, my heart raced with anticipation. My palms were sweaty, and sore from gripping the edges of my desk. My stomach started flipping like an Olympic diver as it fell like a rock through the floor and all the way down to the planet's core.
Why was I so nervous about hanging out with Clair? She was beautiful, but she was only one girl, and this wasn't even a date...or was it?
***
We didn't discuss whether it was a date, but we did agree that going to either of our houses was not a good idea.
Even if we insisted our relationship was strictly platonic, my mother would never believe it and she wouldn't leave us alone.
Clair's family was at least rational, but she wasn't allowed male visitors.
After ruling out our houses, the options were down to an arcade in the mall, an ice cream shop, or one of many local playgrounds.
The arcade was ideal, but Clair had been the one to suggest the creamery so I agreed and we went with that.
I couldn't shake my nerves. Once we left the school grounds it became harder not to focus on the fact that I was walking alone with my crush. Neither of us spoke, and for the most part I kept my eyes on the sidewalk, but when I worked up the courage to look at her, I was surprised to see her looking back at me.
She was beaming like she'd won some sort of prize, but it only lasted a moment. Her cheeks flushed red and she turned away—her excitement vanishing just as quickly. I looked back at the concrete.
A few more minutes passed, then Clair whispered, "So... What do you think of school?"
I struggled to suppress a scoff as I answered, "It's okay, I guess."
"What's your favorite subject?" she asked.
"Probably English," I replied, thinking of how I loved to read, especially fantasy novels.
There was another period of silence that felt uncomfortably long, despite lasting less than a minute.
I realized I was being too clammy, so I added, "I like reading; and writing, but I'm not so good at that."
"Really?" she said. "I bet you're better than you think. You should show me."
"Show you my stories? Absolutely not. I'd sooner burn them."
Clair stopped and glared at me. "What's the point of writing if you're just going to keep it all to yourself?" She moaned. "If you didn't want to share, you would've just kept it all in your head."
She was right, but that didn't mean I wanted her to see it. The thought alone was enough to give me a heart attack. If I showed her my scribbles and she laughed, or worse, thought it boring... I'd rather not risk finding out how much that would hurt.
"Sorry...it's not that I don't want to share, but—"
"You're scared I won't like it right? Then how about an exchange; I'll show you my art journal and you'll show me your best story."
"That's not exactly—"
"Good, it's a deal then." She declared with a determination that told me her mind was made up.
Sighing, I nodded. I might've agreed, but I hoped she wasn't planning on doing the exchange today—or any time soon. I had a story I could show her, but emotionally I just wasn't ready.
"I like reading too." Clair said as we stepped into the ice cream parlor and took our place in line.
We talked about our favorite books and authors as we waited in line and discovered that our interests aligned. We liked some of the same books, and had the same favorite genre—fantasy stories about a land of magic.
At some point, we stepped out of line without getting any ice cream and found a table, on the patio outside the shop, to continue our discussion. Before I knew it, the sun was setting.
As she tucked a strand of hair behind her hair, Clair smiled and said, "I had a great time."
"Me too," I replied. "We should do this again sometime."
"Tomorrow?" she asked, her green eyes alive with joy.
I nodded.
Then with a smile, she got up and started to walk away.
"Wait, Clair."
Reaching out, I caught her wrist. I could see the confusion in her eyes as she turned back to face me.
"Is something wrong?" She asked.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't have a reason for stopping her. I just wanted more time. If magic was real I'd find a way to stop time. Then my dream resurfaced, flooding my mind with the horrific scene of a dying dragon, but also, I recalled Clair's presence in the dream.
"Can I tell you a story?" I asked.
She nodded, so I began. "It starts with a prince, an elf; his name is Silvon. He lives in a place called Faerelle and one day, two dragons visit the realm..."
The whole time I talked, she listened intently, growing more interested with each detail. She never interrupted and when I finished, she asked, "Is there more?"
Shaking my head, I admitted, "It was actually a dream I had last night, but I'll think about it and see if I can continue the story."
Clair nodded vigorously, then she pressed both hands flat on the table. "You can't just leave Silvon like that. And what about Lumia? There's so much still unresolved."
I appreciated her encouragement, but couldn't stop myself from chuckling at her reaction. I had been expecting her to find the story disturbing, but she was actually invested.
"You're right Clair, I'll definitely work on it. As soon as it's ready I'll show it to you, but next time it'll be in written form."
"Alright," Clair said. Reaching into her bag, she withdrew a sketch book and handed it to me. "...and as we agreed, I'll show you my art."
It was a pink spiral bound notebook with a lone tree on the cover. As soon as I opened it, I found myself crying, but I couldn't say why. The first picture was of a sprawling meadow. A single tree stood at its center and thousands of flowers swayed in the breeze around it. The drawing seemed to come alive the more I studied the picture. Motes of fog crept in from the edge of the page as if trying to hide the scene from view and faces of animals I thought I saw in the background disappeared.
"This is amazing." I said.
She remained silent.
Looking up, I discovered Clair had gone. Probably as soon as I opened the sketch book she took off. A sense of pride welled up as I realized how big a step this must've been for her. I wanted to tell her how moving the drawing was, but I'd be sure and let her know tomorrow.
***
As I entered my house, I was met with the familiar smell of my mom's cooking.
Someone was watching TV—probably dad, and for once, Mirina was silent. It was peaceful and seemed normal, but unless my family had been replaced by aliens, I knew it wouldn't last.
"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?" mom asked as I walked past the kitchen.
"It was okay," I replied, not wanting to tell her about the time I spent with Clair. I knew she'd make a big deal of it, and I just wanted to eat and go to sleep.
"Judging by that smile, I'd say that's a lie...but, I won't pry." She said with a half smile.
I could see in her eyes that she wanted to know the details, but after a moment she returned to the stove without asking further questions.
"Thanks mom, I promise I'll tell you once I sort it all out."
She smiled over her shoulder and nodded slightly, then I joined dad on the couch.
He was watching some show based on the legend of Alexander. I wasn't particularly interested in it, but I didn't have anything better to do and I was pretty sure dinner would be done soon.
"So Sam," dad called from his seat, "If you really could go to another world, what kind of world would it be?"
I took pause to think about the question. I didn't have any specific fantasies about visiting other worlds. I hadn't really thought about it, but I came to an answer easily enough. "Any of the places in fantasy stories would be cool and exciting to visit, but I think I'd prefer some place more peaceful. Somewhere with magic, but without the twisted evil maniac that wants to lord over or destroy everything."
Dad rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Well I suppose that—"
"DID YOU KNOW THEY HAVE A SIMULATED DRAGON RIDE?" Mirina shouted as she thumped down the stairs. "I HAVE TO TRY THAT!"
"Calm down Mimi, save that excitement for tomorrow," mom said as she began setting plates on the table.
All through dinner Mirina couldn't stop talking about the fair and eventually I realized it was actually an augmented reality experience and not a fully virtual event. AR was definitely a more interesting prospect than sitting inside some VR machine; by the end of dinner I was as excited if not more so than my sister.
With my built up anticipation, I wasn't sure how I was going to sleep. When I went to my room I was still imagining how fantasy land would look; and to what degree it would be virtual. I laid in bed, expecting to be up most of the night, but I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow—except, it didn't feel like sleeping. It felt more like I'd just woken up.
I was laying in a meadow, the same one from Clair's picture. Two suns were setting as a violet moon rose and sparkling stars filled the sky. A great white dragon was curled around me, her head resting next to mine as she slept.
I knew she wasn't full grown, despite already being a bit larger than a horse. Her four horns, sharp fangs, and black spines made her appear intimidating, although I knew her to be kind and gentle. Lumia was a dear friend and somehow during the events of my uncle's betrayal, we'd become bonded.
Lumia shifted, causing my head to roll off the fluffy tuft that cuffed each of her paws—or would it be more appropriate to call them claws? I wasn't sure.
Sitting up, I noticed a man in a hooded cloak walking towards us. He was sickly thin, and his skin lacked luster. If I hadn't known better, I might've thought he was some kind of zombie.
"Sam," he said in a deep grating voice—a voice I recognized.
"How are you here?" I asked as panic built in my sternum.
"I'm not, and neither are you," he said with a shrug. "You're lost. I only wish to see you home."
With a smile, he extended a hand towards me.
I didn't trust him. How could I after what he tried to do to Lumia, after he betrayed the elves and risked war with the dragons. However sincere he might seem, I could see him as nothing but a liar.
"No," I said firmly.
The man's silver eyes narrowed. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "If you're content to see her dead..." He gestured at the dragon. "...then, so am I."
I watched as he turned and left, disappearing harmlessly into the darkness.
He was gone, but his warning lingered in the air like a toxic mist. I could feel it, working its way into my lungs, choking and depriving me of oxygen. The dragon opened her eyes then, just as mine were closing.
Grass brushed against my face then there was the dusty taste of earth.
I woke up in bed with palpitations like I'd just run a marathon. I gasped to catch my breath and looked around my room. There was no sign of anything unusual. I was alone save for Arfred who was whining at the window.
"It was just a dream," I told myself. "Just a dream."