Ren blinked open his eyes, finding himself in an otherworldly landscape—a realm where the very fabric of nature seemed to be woven from ivory and crystal. Everything was white. The ground, the grass, the rocks, and even the trees—all bathed in an eerie, crystalline glow. From the mountains towering above to the clouds drifting lazily in the sky, it all shimmered as if sculpted from glass, a fragile beauty on the verge of breaking.
And then—there was blood.
A grotesque scene unfolded before him. The once-pristine crystal trees stood shattered, their branches snapped like brittle bones. Craters pocked the ground, rivers of blood snaking through the land, mingling with the remains of countless bodies scattered across the battlefield. Corpses littered the ground in every direction, some split open like broken toys, others stabbed, mangled, torn asunder, or burned beyond recognition. These weren't just humans.
Monstrous creatures lay among them, their grotesque forms etched into Ren's memory. Dragons, phoenixes, and griffins—beasts of legend. Others, strange and unfamiliar, like the three-headed snake coiled in the distance or the massive white lion resting lifeless beside a herd of four-horned bulls. A pack of green birds with two sets of wings lay crumpled like fallen leaves, their feathers dull with death. There were demons and angels, giants and elves, minotaurs and orcs, humans with animalistic traits. The battlefield was a graveyard for beings of myth and nightmare, extending as far as the eye could see.
Ren looked down at himself, realizing he was clad in armor, a suit of white crystal now slick with red, dripping with the blood of the fallen. His hands gripped a long sword in one, and a towering scythe in the other, its crystal handle as tall as he was, both stained crimson from untold lives taken. But there was no time to reflect, for his attention was drawn upward.
A figure, shrouded in blinding light, descended from the sky, walking on air as if it were solid ground. Under normal circumstances, Ren would have been terrified, his heart pounding with fear. But instead, he rose calmly from the pool of blood that had gathered around him—likely his own doing—and faced the glowing entity.
As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the faintest smile on the figure's face.
It spoke, its voice slow and deliberate, each word heavy with meaning. "You have proven your worth. You've passed every trial, every obstacle. You didn't fail me."
The figure raised its hand, and wings unfurled behind it, vast and radiant, casting shadows across the battlefield. Its booming voice echoed across the ruined landscape for miles, shaking the very air. "You shall become my heir! I crown you the Prince of Salt!"
Something in Ren stirred—a primal instinct. His grip tightened on his weapons as the announcement reverberated through him. The world itself seemed to shift, as if the laws of reality had bent in his favor. The land around him responded to his presence, almost bowing, as though eager to please its new prince.
From the figure's outstretched hand, a beam of light shot forth, enveloping Ren and melding with him, fusing into the very core of his being. He closed his eyes, feeling it settle deep within, transforming him in ways he could not yet understand. When he opened his eyes again, the figure's smile had widened, becoming almost… wicked.
"Go now," the figure intoned, its voice dripping with finality. "It's time."
Ren's eyes sharpened, a flicker of bloodlust rising unbidden.
The figure's grin twisted into something darker. "Make me proud, my heir."
And with a snap of its fingers, Ren's body turned to salt, crumbling away into the wind, his armor and weapons scattering like dust across the battlefield, leaving behind the gory ruin of his dream.
---
A figure shot up from his bed, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. His heart raced, beating like a drum in his chest as the remnants of the dream faded away.
"Damn it, this stupid dream again," he muttered under his breath, wiping his brow. His eyes scanned the familiar surroundings—the same bed, the same walls, reading table, chairs, curtains, and cupboard. No battlefield, no corpses, no collapsing planets or bizarre creatures. Just the quiet, normal room he had slept in for the better part of twelve years.
A boy, also about twelve, stirred awake from the other bed, rubbing his eyes. "Yawn… big bro, what time is it? Another nightmare?" he asked, his words slurred by a lazy yawn.
The boy was strikingly handsome for his age, with blue eyes and blonde hair cut neatly, his body already showing hints of defined muscle. He had the innocent charm of youth, yet something about him hinted at more to come.
Sighing, the other boy replied, "Yeah, Xander. Just the stupid nightmare again. It's 2 AM. Go back to sleep. We've got an early morning, remember?"
"Aww, can't we skip tomorrow?" Xander groaned, rolling over. "I mean, look at me. My body's already in great shape. I don't think I need more training."
"No excuses, Xander," the boy said firmly. "I probably won't make it into the academy, but you should."
"I'm not going to any academy that doesn't have you in it," Xander declared, his tone defiant.
"Stop talking nonsense." The boy reached over and gave him a light knock on the head.
"Ouch!" Xander protested, but with a snort, he rolled back over and drifted into sleep again.
The boy watched him for a moment before heaving a heavy sigh. He stood up and walked to the mirror, gazing at his reflection as though searching for answers in the glass. His long black hair, streaked with silver, fell softly around his face. Dark purple eyes, framed by lashes that seemed too long for a boy, stared back at him. His figure, lean but unexpectedly well-formed for someone his age, carried an androgynous beauty—both handsome and delicate, his skin smooth as porcelain.
He frowned at the sight. Despite his age, he looked almost too perfect, too otherworldly, a blend of strength and fragility.
"These dreams are getting annoying," he whispered to his reflection. "There's no Ren. Only Sirius."
With that, he returned to bed, closing his eyes, trying to let sleep take him again. As his body relaxed, the name Ren—the name that once defined him—slipped further away, buried under the weight of this new life as Sirius.
Ren, now Sirius, had forgotten the trials and tribulations of his past. Reborn into the life of an ordinary boy, he had hoped for normalcy. But fate had other plans, and the peaceful life he yearned for was slipping beyond his grasp. His true journey, with all its perils and adventures, had only just begun.