The world was heavy with anticipation. From the highest towers of the cities to the quietest corners of the countryside, a sense of unease had settled in the air. News broadcasts echoed the same message: something ancient and powerful had been unearthed. Miners had stumbled upon a mysterious relic, buried deep within a mountain, wrapped in layers of earth that had concealed it for centuries. It was a sword, blackened with age, and inscribed with symbols that no scholar could decipher—a weapon from another time, another life.
Snowy sat on the couch, his eyes half-focused on the TV as the camera panned over the relic. His sister Miya was glued to the screen, her excitement palpable as she bounced around the room.
"This is amazing!" Miya exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. "They say it could be from an ancient warrior, someone who fought for the realms. Can you imagine? If I had something like that, I'd be an elite warrior too, just like the heroes in the stories!"
Snowy smirked, his mind drifting. The idea of becoming powerful simply by holding a relic seemed naive to him. "If it were that easy, Miya, I'd have reached godhood by now," he muttered, half-joking, half-lost in thought. But the sight of the sword tugged at something deep within him—a strange, inexplicable familiarity that he couldn't quite place. He shrugged it off, burying the unsettling feeling beneath layers of indifference.
As the night drew on, Snowy found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts kept returning to the relic, though he couldn't understand why. Sleep eventually claimed him, pulling him into a restless slumber.
---
Dreams were supposed to be peaceful, but tonight, Snowy's mind was a battlefield. He found himself hurtling through the skies, the wind roaring in his ears as he soared over a vast landscape. The dream flickered, and suddenly, he was on solid ground, amidst a crowd of heavily armored warriors, their faces hidden behind helmets that gleamed under a blood-red sky. Swords clashed, and battle cries filled the air.
The scene shifted back and forth—a dizzying dance between flight and fight, sky and earth, freedom and fury. He was flying again, the clouds parting before him, the world beneath him a blur of speed. Then back to the battle: warriors bracing themselves against an unseen enemy, their armor splattered with mud and blood.
And there, amidst the chaos, Snowy saw him. A figure, half-hidden behind a massive rock, standing tall as if the weight of the world was his alone to bear. The figure's presence was commanding, a beacon of strength amidst the storm of battle. The armored warriors turned, and a collective cheer rose from their ranks.
"Bow to the First—" the voices were distant, their words garbled as though spoken through water. Snowy squinted, trying to make sense of the sounds, but they were faint, as if carried by a wind that refused to reveal its secrets. The figure moved closer, the lines of his face still blurred, but there was no mistaking the power in his stance, the weight of command that radiated from him.
"The Eternal Sentinel." The words were whispered, faint and cryptic, but Snowy heard them echo in his bones. They were not a command, but a declaration—a title, an acknowledgment of someone who had stood through the ages, unbroken.
"All bow to the warrior who rises, to the shadow and the flame, the bearer of a forgotten name."
The cheers grew louder, almost deafening, but as Snowy strained to hear more, the dream flickered again, and he was back in the sky, hurtling forward without control. The wind screamed past him, drowning out everything but the rush of air and the thud of his own heartbeat.
Then the battlefield returned, but this time, it was different. Snowy could see flashes of light, the clash of steel against steel, the roar of unseen beasts. The voices of the warriors rose again, this time clear and unyielding, like a chant carried through time.
"We bow to the forgotten, to the ghost of the realms, to the storm in the quiet, the light in the dark."
Snowy's mind was spinning. He could feel the weight of the words pressing down on him, pulling him closer to the figure behind the rock. He wanted to see, to know, to remember. But just as the dream started to sharpen into focus, everything shattered into blinding light, and the world around him fell away.
---
Snowy's eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint rustling of curtains in the early morning breeze. But the echoes of the dream lingered, clinging to him like a shadow he couldn't shake. Before he could gather his thoughts, Miya burst into his room, her energy as boundless as ever.
"Snowy! Wake up!" she yelled, jumping onto his bed and landing squarely on his stomach. He let out a groan, his body jolting back into reality.
"It's already day, sleepyhead! Come on, you promised we'd train today!" Miya's voice was bright, untroubled, as if the world outside wasn't teetering on the edge of chaos. Snowy forced a smile, pushing the remnants of the dream to the back of his mind.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm up," he mumbled, ruffling Miya's hair. But as he got dressed, the flickering images of the dream refused to fade completely. The figure, the battle, the voices that spoke of things lost to time.
They were nothing more than fragments, pieces of a puzzle he didn't yet know how to solve.
But something was clear—there was more to his life than he understood, something buried deep within the echoes of his dreams. And as the day began, Snowy couldn't help but feel that whatever it was, it was only just beginning to surface.