The roads were clean and wide, with tall trees lining the sides, separating the footpaths from the main road. Most travelers were using carriages or sleek magic cars, their enchanted wheels humming softly as they moved.
The fanciest carriages were guarded by royal guards, their presence commanding attention.
These guards weren't necessarily there to protect the travelers; they were ensuring the safety of the roads, a symbol of the kingdom's stability.
Alec and his companions weren't the only ones still riding horses. Many young adventurers, eager to retain a sense of tradition and freedom, chose horses over magic cars or carriages.
It gave them a certain rugged charm, a connection to the land and to the old ways of travel.
The trio finally arrived at the towering gates of Lymhurst, feeling a sense of relief wash over them.
The city was bustling with life, its grand architecture casting long shadows in the early afternoon light.
Now, all they wanted was to find a comfortable inn where they could rest, recovering from their adventurous and precarious journey.
The guards at the gate gave them a brief glance, but seeing nothing unusual, they allowed them through without any questions.
Once inside the city, the trio looked around, taking in the sight of cobbled streets, busy markets, and people going about their daily lives.
Alec led the way, scanning for a suitable place where they could lay low for a while and regroup.
Lymhurst, as grand as it was, could not help but feel somewhat lacking in comparison to Somnia Terra, the capital of the Artesia Empire.
The trio had seen the awe-inspiring splendor of Somnia Terra, where the streets seemed to gleam with magic and every corner was adorned with advanced architecture and technology.
Here in Lymhurst, though the city stood tall with its rich history and importance, there was a noticeable difference in its atmosphere.
The streets were clean and well-maintained, the buildings sturdy and elegant, but it didn't have the cutting-edge advancements or the overwhelming sense of grandeur that Somnia Terra exuded.
Alec, Harry, and Sasha couldn't help but feel that contrast as they navigated through the bustling roads, still appreciating the beauty of Lymhurst but remembering the marvels of the empire they left behind.
Whatever memories they had of Somnia Terra, they have to leave it behind for now; it is no longer their home.
Outcasted and labeled as traitors, returning would be as dangerous as drinking from Kertia's poisonous river. With that heavy truth in mind, the trio shook off their overthinking and focused on the present.
They asked a random stranger for directions and soon found an inn near Moon's Library.
The inn had a modest yet welcoming appearance, with wooden beams and warm lights glowing from within. Deciding that they needed rest more than anything, they checked in.
Visiting the famed Moon's Library could wait until they had recovered their strength after the long and precarious journey. For now, rest is their priority.
By the time they arrived at the inn, the evening sky was already deepening into twilight. Exhausted from their long journey, the trio hurriedly ate their dinner, barely paying attention to their surroundings.
They fell into a deep sleep as soon as they hit their beds.
From their room, the Grand Moon's Library was visible in the distance. Though called a library, it resembled more of a temple, with towering, magnificent structures that dominated the skyline.
The tallest tower bore a breathtaking statue of the Moon Goddess, gracefully holding a glowing moon aloft with one hand.
The entire scene radiated majesty, particularly at night when the moonlight shone upon it.
In those moments, the moon in the goddess's hand absorbed the light, radiating a soft glow that illuminated the surrounding area, casting an otherworldly beauty over the landscape.
Even on moonless nights, the goddess's statue would shine, providing light and hope to all near it. It was a sight to behold—one that the trio would soon explore once their weary bodies were rested.
The moonlight, gentle and serene, couldn't pierce the darkness of the nightmare Alec found himself trapped in.
In his dream, he was running through a desolate landscape, mountains looming around him, with a river of red flowing ominously beside the path.
The air was thick with an intoxicating scent that made him feel dizzy; his mind was clouded as if drugged.
Each step became a struggle, his feet growing heavier as the red liquid seeped into his shoes, sticking him to the ground like a viscous trap.
As he drew closer to the mountains, a horrifying realization struck him—they were not made of stone but of corpses, stacked together in a grotesque monument to death.
The river was not water, but blood, endlessly pouring from the base of this macabre mountain. The sight shocked Alec to his core, his heart pounding in his chest as terror gripped him.
Every hair on his body stood on end as cold fear seeped into his bones, freezing him in place. His knees buckled under the weight of it, and he collapsed, the intoxicating aroma turning into the sickening stench of rotting flesh.
The overpowering smell threatened to overwhelm him, his vision darkening as if he were about to lose consciousness.
But then, amidst the horror, a distant call echoed through the air. It was a voice, faint yet clear, cutting through the dreadful atmosphere.
Alec forced his stiff body to turn, struggling against the fear that paralyzed him.
When he looked back, the nightmare shifted; he found himself sitting on a small boat, drifting aimlessly on a river shrouded in fog at dawn.
The eerie stillness of the scene was in stark contrast to the chaos he had just witnessed.
The fog wrapped around him like a cold, clammy blanket, muffling all sound except for the slow, rhythmic splash of the water against the boat.
The voice that had called to him was gone, leaving Alec alone in this surreal, unsettling silence. The only thing he could do was stare into the fog, unsure if the nightmare had truly ended or if this was merely another layer of the terror that had gripped him so completely.
The fog was so dense that Alec could barely see ten meters ahead of him. At first, the silence was absolute, a quiet so profound that it pressed in on him from all sides.
But then, the stillness was broken by the faint, rhythmic chirping of frogs and the eerie drone of cicadas. The sounds echoed through the mist, adding to the unsettling atmosphere, as if the very air was alive with hidden dangers.
As Alec strained to see through the fog, he noticed a disturbing change. The pure, snowy mist began to darken, slowly turning into a sinister red haze that seemed to pulse with an unnatural energy.
The once-clear water of the river beneath his boat thickened, its color shifting into a deep, viscous red—like blood.
The transformation was gradual, but it was unmistakable; the river now had a gruesome current that matched the ominous fog surrounding him.
The red mist and the blood river exuded an oppressive presence, making the air heavy with dread. It was as if the very environment was alive, breathing with malevolent intent.
Alec's heart raced as the boat drifted forward, deeper into the crimson haze. The once faint sounds of nature now seemed distorted and unnatural, amplifying the fear gnawing at his mind.
He felt trapped in a living nightmare, where every second brought him closer to an unknown terror lurking just beyond the edge of his vision.
In the midst of that eerie, unsettling atmosphere, Alec heard a voice calling to him from behind. It was faint but insistent, compelling him to turn and look.
Again, just as he shifted his gaze, his vision blurred, and the dreamscape around him changed abruptly.
He found himself standing under a tree in the middle of a vast, unending ocean, rain pouring down from a dark, stormy sky. The tree's roots barely provided enough space for him to stand, and as he teetered on the edge, he lost his balance.
Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed hold of the tree's rough bark, preventing himself from falling into the abyss below.
As he clung to the tree, Alec noticed that its leaves were beginning to fall, one by one. Each leaf, upon touching the ocean's surface, transformed into a disturbing, eerie red dye, staining the once-blue water.
The raindrops followed suit, turning into crimson ink as they splashed into the ocean, spreading the ominous color further and further.
Leaning against the tree trunk, Alec felt the bark under his fingers beginning to change. The rough texture softened, becoming slick and wet as it too started to dissolve into red ink.
The transformation was relentless, the tree slowly disintegrating into the very substance that was consuming the ocean around him.
In that surreal and terrifying moment, the first thought that came to Alec's mind was, "This pitiful tree is dying."
It was an odd, almost absurd notion given the circumstances. His own life was in immediate danger, yet his empathy extended to the tree, a silent witness to the encroaching doom.
Before he could process this strange thought further, the same voice echoed from behind him, louder and more distinct this time.
"Jaayy".
Without thinking, Alec turned to face the source of the voice. The moment he did, everything around him—the tree, the ocean, the red ink—seemed to fade into darkness, leaving him suspended in a void of uncertainty.
Alec rubbed his eyes repeatedly, trying to make sense of the sudden change in his vision.
As his surroundings became clearer, he found himself hovering high above a majestic city, with the world spread out beneath him.
It took him a moment to realize that he was floating in the sky, looking down upon Lymhurst. The view was breathtaking—sprawling palaces, towering structures, and the grand statue of the Moon Goddess all came into view.
But amid the city's beauty, he noticed something disturbing: in one part of the city, several houses were engulfed in flames.
Despite the height, Alec felt no fear of falling. He experimented with movement and discovered that he could navigate simply by thinking.
Taking advantage of this newfound ability, he explored every corner of Lymhurst, marveling at its grandeur and feeling a deep sense of awe.
However, as he moved around certain structures, a sense of dread washed over him. It was as if something or someone might detect his presence, and a powerful, inevitable death would follow if he was caught.
Without hesitation, Alec turned his focus toward the inn where he and his companions were staying. As he neared the inn, he spotted their horses tethered outside and his own sleeping form alongside Harry and Sasha in their room.
But his attention was quickly drawn to something else—an eerie sight that sent chills down his spine.
He saw ghostly entities, shadowy and ethereal, swirling around the room, attempting to enter his body.
Each time they tried, they were repelled by an invisible golden barrier of light surrounding him. To these spectral beings, the light was a deadly force.
The weaker ghosts recoiled in terror, while the stronger, more corporeal spirits pressed against the barrier, only to have their skin burn and sizzle upon contact.
Alec observed all this from a distance, his presence unnoticed by the malevolent entities. He felt an odd mixture of relief and curiosity, but his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a sudden manifestation of a holographic screen.
It was Aria issuing a dire warning: if he didn't return to his body immediately, he risked being trapped outside it forever. The barrier was weakening, and once it failed, the ghosts would flock in.
[Enter your body swiftly or die].
In that instant, Alec felt a surge of urgency. Far off in the distance, he sensed an even greater presence—an entity far more powerful than any of the ghosts near him.
There was no time to waste. He propelled himself toward his body, passing through the barrier just as it flickered and entering his body with a rush of energy.
Alec woke up with a start, panting heavily. His heart raced, and his skin was slick with sweat.
He looked around the room, trying to find any trace of the ghostly entities that had surrounded him moments before.
To his surprise, the room was quiet, and there was no sign of the spirits. The barrier, the ghosts, the eerie presence—all of it had vanished, leaving Alec to wonder if it had been real or just another vivid, terrifying dream.
Alec strained his senses, trying to detect any trace of the ethereal entities he had just witnessed. He searched the room with his eyes and mind, but nothing seemed out of place.
It was as if the ghosts had never existed, and the entire experience was nothing more than a vivid, unsettling dream. The silence in the room was almost comforting, yet it left him with a lingering sense of unease.
As he continued to search for any sign of the spirits, a wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over him. His body felt heavy, his eyelids drooping as if they were made of lead.
The adrenaline from his earlier panic began to fade, replaced by an overwhelming drowsiness. It was as though his body was demanding rest, pulling him back into the comforting embrace of sleep.
Alec knew that he should stay alert, that he should keep watch just in case there was something more to the dream than he could understand.
But his body had other plans.
The fatigue was so intense that even the thought of the house catching fire didn't seem alarming enough to keep him awake. His head sank into his pillow, and despite his best efforts to stay conscious, sleep overtook him.
As Alec drifted off, his thoughts became muddled and incoherent, like the remnants of a dream fading into darkness.
The strange vision, the ghostly entities, and the ominous warning from Aria all seemed distant now, as if they belonged to another world—a world that would have to wait until morning to be confronted.
For now, all Alec could do was surrender to the deep, dreamless sleep that was pulling him under, letting the mysterious events of the night slip away into the back of his mind.