Throbbing!!!
The pain in my head felt like a thousand hammers striking my skull. As I opened my eyes, my blurry vision slowly began to clear. Leaning against a dark, worn wooden wall, an unexpected feeling of comfort enveloped me, as if this were the first moment of true rest I had experienced since arriving in this grim place. Looking around, a mix of curiosity and despair hit me. I was surrounded by other prisoners, lost souls like myself. Some wore expressions of profound despair, while others seemed on the brink of death, life seeping from their battered bodies.
The men and women were bound, their faces marked by defeat. Some had their torsos exposed, revealing whip scars and bruises that told stories of pain and suffering. The air was thick with the nauseating smell of decay, and large rodents, shadows in motion, roamed the basement, daring death as they attempted to gnaw at the feet of the unconscious. A wave of nausea rose within me, accompanied by the swaying and slow movement around me, causing my stomach to churn. With a jolt, I realized the cruel reality: I was trapped in a cursed ship's hold, surrounded by invisible enemies who delighted in my suffering.
Then, a whistle cut through the heavy silence, drawing my attention. I turned my face and spotted the man known as Half-Ear, casually sitting on a barrel. His eyes gleamed with a sadistic light.
— Finally awake, 'girl'? — the strong disdain evident in his voice. — I really thought the blow had killed you!
I maintained my act, letting a look of confusion and fear wash over my face, like that of a lost child in the world.
— Grandma!! — my voice echoed through the hold, loud and desperate, intensifying my role as the innocent. Half-Ear seemed to enjoy the scene, his laughter resounding like an explosion, waking up those who were lost in nightmares.
— Calling for the old woman? — he asked, sarcastically, moving closer to me. His hand quickly extended to my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. His wicked gaze betrayed pleasure in my suffering. — We're far from the Vale now, sailing for quite some time... Your grandmother traded you for a few coins, little one!
It was vital to maintain the guise of innocence.Before taking any action, I needed to make them keep their guard down... These idiots who seemed to delight in other people's suffering, as if pain were a spectacle for their cruel eyes. A spark of hope ignited within me; perhaps this was a divine opportunity to change my fate, as I was weary of living under the oppressive shadow of this cruel land.
My brief silence, however, only fueled his amusement.
— Speechless, huh? — he joked, wrinkling his nose mockingly. His tone was almost musical in its malice. — Come on, cry and scream! Show us what you got, boy... Cry or scream!
Before his taunting could escalate, the sound of footsteps resounded in the space, like distant drumbeats, and soon I saw a familiar figure emerge from the depths of the basement. As he approached, the dim light from the scattered candles illuminated his face, revealing features that I recognized well.
It was Broken-Nose, approaching Half-Ear, deliberative decision on his face. Confirmation of what I suspected solidified in my mind: he was responsible for keeping his friend in line. "The head between the two?", I thought, observing the firm look that Broken-Nose directed at Half-Ear.
— Stop scaring the boy! — he ordered, his tone resonating like an echo of distant thunder. — It will take days and nights to get there. I hope the old man is satisfied with this. It's not easy making this trip back and forth to Qohor... So, no injuries, understood?!
I looked at Broken-Nose with a mix of relief and apprehension; he seemed to be the more sensible of the two. "Qohor..." The name echoed in my mind like a strange melody, a distant echo of something I couldn't identify. I didn't recall any region in Westeros by that name, and the book I had read mentioned nothing like it. However, the reactions of the others were even more intriguing. Some, upon hearing that word, visibly shuddered, while others, like me, showed a growing confusion.
Half-Ear sighed, loosening his grip on my shoulder, making way for his friend to come closer. When Broken-Nose reached me, his hand rested on my shoulder, mimicking his friend's gesture. His penetrating gaze seemed to probe my soul while the pressure of his hand became a reminder of his dominance.
— You need to be obedient, boy. The more obedient you are, the smoother the journey will be. — he said, his eyes sharpening like knives. Half-Ear flashed a wicked smile in the background. — So, don't make the time here longer than it already is!
I nodded slowly, hiding the tumultuous thoughts swirling in my mind. He squeezed my shoulder lightly, like a predator marking its prey.
— Yes, sir. — I replied, my voice low and submissive, which seemed to please him, satisfied with my peaceful demeanor.
With a nod of approval, he finally released my shoulder.
— That's better! — he exclaimed before stepping away, heading toward the stairs.
Half-Ear threw me one last glance, a mix of disappointment and disdain, clearly unhappy with my docile behavior.
— This isn't fun... — he murmured in complaint. — It was unexpected this time! — he whispered to his friend as they moved away, their voices fading into the darkness.
I bit my lip, fighting to contain the urge to respond and maintain the facade of vulnerability.
"It will be... Just wait!" I murmured in thought, the flame of determination burning silently within me as the world around me became a trap of intrigue and secrets.
I let my mind wander, allowing my thoughts to flow like a calm river. "Qohor..."I let my mind wander, allowing my thoughts to flow like a calm river. "Qohor..." I muttered again, trying to situate myself on the vast and interesting continent of Westeros.Although I didn't know all its corners, I knew that the mention of the sea meant I was far away. And from what I'd heard, the journey there would require long nights of travel. "Maybe I should focus on the mana around me..." I reflected, searching for a thread of hope in the darkness that surrounded me.
Time seemed to drag as I remained imprisoned in the basement, surrounded by an unbearable stench emanating from the souls packed around me. What exhausted me the most, though, were the incessant taunts from Half-Ear, who delighted in mocking the others. My sustenance consisted of moldy bread crumbs and a bit of water, courtesy of Broken-Nose, who reluctantly offered me this due to my obedience. The supplies they had stored were generous, but meant only for them, while I was deprived even of the basics.
As I waited, I listened to the conversations around me, trying to absorb fragments of information. At first, everything seemed chaotic, but soon I noticed that some voices stood out. A woman, with a grave and low tone, spoke to the other prisoners, her voice overflowing with despair and anger.
— Qohor... — she said, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. — No one wants to go there. The city's reputation isn't good, you know? We're just mere goods; we're just numbers to be sold. Slaver's Bay is a common destination. But Qohor? Oh, there they seek something more... special. The sorcerers!!
My interest was piqued, and the woman continued, ignoring the disdainful looks from some prisoners.
— You must have heard the stories about the sorcerers of Qohor. They say they have the power to manipulate life and death itself, and that if you cross their path, you may never return.
The environment around me seemed to fall silent as I absorbed her words. I had no ambition to visit Qohor; with my vast knowledge of magic, I knew that place didn't hold any good surprises for me. But the stories echoed in my mind, provoking a mix of fascination and repulsion.
Realizing she had the attention of a few, the woman pressed on.
— They also speak of a trade in souls. You become a piece on a much larger chessboard. What are you now? A slave? A toy for these monsters? That's what awaits us. — the anger in her voice grew, palpable in the air.
Meanwhile, other prisoners exchanged nervous glances, the tension becoming almost tangible. I observed the despair in their faces, and for a brief moment, I reflected on the irony: I, who had reincarnated with memories and abilities, was now treated like a mere object, just like them.
A man, listening with a sarcastic smile, didn't miss the chance to mock her.
— How dramatic! Do you really think the stories of Qohor are true? There's no escape, and we all know it. Just like you, they'll sell us off like meat!
The woman ignored his mockery and turned to me, her eyes burning with an unexpected intensity.
— Don't be fooled. You're different. They'll want you. Some special ability, perhaps? — the question hung in the air, and I wondered if she could sense the mana pulsing inside me, just as I felt it.
From that point on, the conversations became a cacophony of voices, intertwining doubts and fears. The basement was turning into a cauldron of anguish and hope, and every fragment of information I managed to grasp was a piece of the puzzle that would help me plan my next move.
My thoughts wandered once again, reminding me that what awaited me in Qohor wasn't the allure of sorcery, but the weight of a destiny I hadn't chosen. The desire to escape grew in my chest, like a flame ready to turn into a wildfire.
As the sound of the crew preparing for another night of revelry and indulgence echoed above us, I realized that, no matter what came next, I had a chance to change my fate. All it would take was a moment of bravery, a flicker of opportunity, and everything could shift.
Then, the heavy sound of footsteps descending the basement stairs interrupted my thoughts. It was Half-Ear, returning to watch over me, his irritation evident, clearly tired of being stuck on a ship for days. It was obvious that he hated this; a guy like him was more the type to prefer brawling than being trapped at sea.
— You've been quieter than a rat in a trap, haven't you? — Half-Ear said, in a provocative tone, trying to pull me into his web as always. — No escape attempts yet? — he seemed eager to draw a reaction from me.
I ignored his dull words, fixing my gaze on my own feet, as if a deep interest in them could somehow save me from the situation. The charged silence only seemed to irritate him more. Without warning, he leaned over me, his heavy hand gripping my chin, forcing me to face him.
— Come on, brat, say something! Your future owner won't like you looking like a dead fish! — his face twisted in a malicious grin, as if the idea of humiliating me amused him.
But before I could open my mouth, a sharp sound echoed through the room. It was Broken Nose, who had appeared and delivered a well-placed slap to the back of Half-Ear's head.
— Leave the boy alone! — He said firmly, a tone that, surprisingly, seemed to finally have an effect. — Let's go drink wine and have fun with the girls upstairs.
Half-Ear turned, indignant, disbelief written across his face.
— What the hell was that? — He grumbled, rubbing the spot where he'd been hit.
Broken Nose shot him a glare that could cut stone.
— Enough with the games. What are you going to gain by making the kid feel like a prisoner? Come on, we've got wine and pleasures waiting.
Watching the dynamic between the two, I realized that Half-Ear's frustration was growing. And Broken Nose had a rather dark expression, and I caught a few words escaping his lips, words that seemed to carry great weight: "Jorah Mormont... that damned noble was captured by Eddard Stark. He always thought he could escape the Northern director's clutches, but he ended up getting burned."
The name "Jorah Mormont" echoed in my mind, intriguing me. Though I didn't know exactly who he was, the mention of the "the Northern director's" sparked curiosity within me. From the books Mrs. Darla lent me, some of which were about the lords of the North, memories came to the surface.
Half-Ear seemed frustrated, but chose not to press the matter further. He turned, his feet firm on the ground, and along with Broken Nose, left, leaving me lost in a sea of questions and reflections. And as they finally disappeared, Half-Ear muttered: — No one escapes a wolf, without scratches.
That small shift in attention had changed something within me, as if every word exchanged had opened my mind to a new curiosity.
***
Thud! Thud!
Thump! Thump!
Thump!! Thump!!
My feet burned, aching after hours of being dragged through the forest, the ropes around my wrists tightening like shackles. The vegetation around us grew denser, a massive tapestry of deep greens and impenetrable shadows. As we continued forward, the murmurs of Half-Ear and Broken-Nose filled the air, creating a cacophony of voices. Half-Ear was visibly nervous, his eyes darting impatiently, while the boredom of the journey weighed on him like a suffocating cloak. Broken-Nose, despite his tired expression, seemed resigned to the situation.
As I stepped foot in Essos, a singular sensation enveloped me, completely distinct from anything I had experienced in Westeros. On my first day, an unexpected joy took hold of me as I realized a strategic advantage. After days and nights wandering through unknown lands, riding a horse and walking through dusty streets, I encountered eccentric places and even more peculiar people. The language spoken was a riddle, a dance of sounds that escaped me, like a river slipping through my fingers. The diversity of the people was so vast I couldn't count them, even if I used both hands.
However, a growing anxiety brewed within me, the sense that there was still much to discover about this new continent. I knew that once I freed myself from Broken-Nose and Half-Ear, I would need to stay here for quite some time, and the events of the past days left me hopeful that handling it wouldn't be as challenging as I had feared.
As for the horses, I had found a clever way to buy time and sow discord among them. I admit it was a real delight! The look of surprise and frustration on their faces as they argued with each other after I loosened the ropes was undeniably satisfying. They had irritated me for days, and repaying them with a bit of chaos seemed fair. It was a smart strategy to buy time, but it had its downsides. After all, I was trapped in the body of a child, and the pains started to accumulate; each step became torture, without a pair of boots or proper protection for my feet.
— I hate this forest! — Half-Ear grumbled, leaning against a majestic tree whose leaves whispered in the wind, while he yanked me along by the rope as if I were a sack of potatoes. He dropped his bag, which looked more like an arsenal of supplies, at the base of the tree. — We've been walking nonstop, and it feels like Qohor gets further with every step!
Broken-Nose let out an exhausted sigh, his pale face reflecting shared frustration. He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the treetops as if expecting them to turn into magical portals to whisk him away from this torture.
— It's true! — he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically. — I'm so tired I could lie down on the ground and let the squirrels take care of me! All we see are these damn trees!
In a fit of irritation, Half-Ear pointed a trembling finger at Broken-Nose, his face twisting as if he had bitten into a lemon.
— It's all your fault! — he shouted, his voice rough and full of reproach. —We should've sold the boy in Slaver's Bay! It would've been so much easier! With your knack for bargaining, we'd still be sitting in a tavern, drinking mead and telling stories!
Broken-Nose rolled his eyes, not missing the chance to defend himself.
— I know, I know... — he replied, crossing his arms defensively, one eyebrow raised as his eyes locked on me, as if I were part of the problem. — But it's done! Besides, our goal is to profit more! Isn't it?!
Half-Ear remained there, frustrated, his back pressed against the imposing tree, his eyes wandering through the dense foliage that surrounded us like a cloak of mystery.
— Still, this walk is a curse! — his friend, Half-Ear complained again, his voice carrying the indignation of someone trapped. "I'm more than tired, I just want to get to Qohor now. This forest looks like an endless maze! — I'm more than tired, I just want to reach Qohor already. This forest feels like an endless maze!
— Stop whining, let's move on.... — Broken Nose replied, his gaze meeting mine, and suddenly a faint smile appeared on his face, as if he were trying to deflect the tension. — Even the boy seems to have more energy than you!
The taunt made Half-Ear grimace in irritation, as if he were being challenged.
— Whining? Me?! — Half-Ear questioned, his voice now firmer, almost a restrained roar. That doesn't change the fact that it's your fault for always wanting more money.
He swallowed hard, as if every word cost him a monumental effort.
— You only care about profit! — spitting on the floor, fury oozing from every syllable. — No matter the conditions, all that matters to you is how much you earn!
Broken Nose shook his head, an ironic smile forming on his lips.
— Of course profit is all I care about. That's the point of any business! Or did you forget?!?
His words seemed to inflame Half-Ear's anger even more. In a swift, decisive motion, he tied the rope around the tree and lunged at Broken Nose, shoving him backward forcefully, as if trying to release all the pent-up frustration.
— I'm sick of your jokes, you bastard! — his scream was loud, his voice laden with fury, echoing through the trees.
The two began to argue violently, hurling insults and taunts, their voices rising to a clamor that disturbed even the spirits of the forest. They grabbed at each other, as if ready to engage in a fierce fight.
— You and your profits, always worried about your pocket! — Half-Ear shouted, gripping the collar of Broken Nose's shirt, his hands trembling with rage.
— And you with your explosive temper, always a brute over the slightest thing! — Broken Nose shot back, resisting bravely against Half-Ear's firm grip. — If you'd simply done the job of taking care of the horses, we wouldn't be in this situation! But you can't even manage a simple task!!! So don't you dare blame me for your failures!
The tension between them hung in the air like a storm about to break, and I, caught in the middle of the chaos, felt my heart race as the reality of the forest and the harshness of their words became the backdrop to their confrontation, a spectacle I somewhat yearned to see unfold.
Half-Ear tightened his grip even more, his resentment reaching its limit, his body looming over Broken Nose as if trying to dominate not just physically, but verbally as well.
— It's your fault for trusting me to handle the horses! — once again he brandished, his voice like a sharp blade. — You should've known I'm no good at it, yet you still left me with that cursed task!
Broken Nose, struggling with all his might against his friend's grip, his face flushed with anger, responded with a rigid voice, full of irritating humor:
— So you admit you're useless, is that it? That you can't do a simple job without screwing it up?! — he let out a loud laugh, mocking Half-Ear's words. — No... Don't make me laugh, Half-Ear! You're terrible at this too!!
The two fools were so wrapped up in their heated argument that they didn't notice the rope, which had been tightly fastened around my wrists, now lay loose. Ever since leaving the ship, I'd made sure the binding was slack, manipulating it while pretending to wince in pain with each tug. They would check occasionally, but who would imagine that some random kid could pull off such a trick? Throughout the entire argument, I kept a discreet eye on them until, finally, the heat of their exchanged insults had made them completely oblivious to what was happening around them.
A faint smile spread across my face as I freed my wrists from the ropes.
"Finally!!"
From the moment I stepped into this new world, an unmistakable sensation overtook me: mana! Here, the mana was purer than in Westeros, flowing more serenely and accessibly. Although I knew it would take time to develop a mana core, the task would be considerably easier than it had been in my old home. I seized every moment I was alone, diving into the practice of manipulating the local mana, accustoming my body to its essence, even though it still contained impurities. In Westeros, any attempt at purification had been an almost insurmountable challenge; so many attempts, so many failures. But here, in Essos, the ease was almost surprising. A low chuckle escaped my lips, filling me with the certainty that luck was starting to change.
With the shackles broken and mana dancing around me, it was time to act. The tension between the two men around me pulsed in the air, and I felt like a shadow on the verge of breaking free from the past and embracing a future full of opportunities.
While the fools brawled, my childish expression abruptly vanished, giving way to a serious, impassive demeanor. My eyes locked onto them like those of a predator, ready to strike.
They, however, had yet to realize I was free from my bindings, nor did they notice the deadly aura surrounding me. I looked up, pulling air into my lungs as the chaos around me echoed through the shouts of the merchants. I sighed, and my body was enveloped in a translucent aura as I manipulated the ambient mana, enhancing my physical capabilities. Even though I couldn't form a mana core or use magic in the conventional sense, surrounding myself with mana was my limit, and I had total confidence that it would be enough. Yes, I would become strong enough to take those two down!
I fixed my gaze on Half-Ear, his back exposed. A wide grin spread across my face. In an instant, I shot forward like lightning, my feet steady on the ground as my speed propelled me toward him. My fist collided with his back in a resounding impact. Pain shot through my arm, reverberating through my slender frame.
Argh!!!
He screamed in pain, surprised by the unexpected blow, staggering as he clutched the struck area. His eyes widened, brimming with disbelief and shock.
Between Half-Ear and my fist, frustration surged within me.
"That hurt more than I expected," I thought silently. The limits of my childlike body were always clear to me. "It wasn't enough!"
Broken-Nose glanced at me, then at his companion, clearly confused about whom to focus on first. His attention wavered between us, and while he hesitated, I decided to take the opportunity. I dashed toward him, determined to take him down.
With the speed of a blur, my fist struck his stomach with a thud, making him spit blood and nearly double over in agony.
"Ugh-oooh!!"
My hand moved quickly, pulling the dagger from his waist. It was a crude blade, crafted in a makeshift fashion. His eyes were dazed and unprepared. Before he could utter a word, the blade sliced through his neck swiftly.
Blood spurted, his hands shot up in a desperate attempt to stem the red flow gushing out. Tears welled up in his eyes, rolling down his pale face, mixing with the blood as he tried to say something, but only incoherent sounds escaped his mouth. Broken-Nose trembled, collapsing to the ground with a heavy thud.
— One! — I murmured to myself, turning my face toward Half-Ear and offering him a playful smile.
— let me remember...! [...] 'come on.. Cry or scream!', wasn't it?
His expression was a vivid portrait of shock and terror; his cheeks, pale as marble, contrasted with the terrified gleam in his eyes, which widened in the face of the mortal danger. He stepped back slowly, his hands moving cautiously, as if each movement could provoke disaster. His half-open mouth trembled, struggling to form words, but all that escaped was a whisper, a timid moan that echoed through the forest's silence.
Finally, his voice broke through, fragile and hesitant, cutting the air like a scream in the midst of tranquility.
— H-how… you… W-what did you do?? — he muttered, his mind wrestling with the instinct to retreat, as if he were dancing with fear. — Monster… MONSTER! — his words trembled like leaves in the wind, reverberating in a terrified whisper, while his hand instinctively reached for the pain in his back. His terrified, lost gaze, and the other hand hesitating on the dagger's hilt, reflected his desperation like a broken mirror.
It was exactly the expression I expected from him: a mixture of disbelief and terror, as if a lost boy had just stumbled upon a monster in a fairy tale.
— Am I… am I the monster?!? — I shouted, irony dancing in my voice, as a cold, impassive gaze pierced into his soul. With slow, determined steps, I advanced toward him, sending a shiver down his spine like a wintry breath.
Half-Ear trembled, the hand that had been caressing his back now gripping the ground desperately as his body tried to crawl away from me, as if attempting to escape an inevitable fate. His face, now pale as a sheet of paper, revealed the horror consuming him, and his eyes, once full of cunning, were now brimming with fear, staring at me as if I were a demon straight out of a nightmare.
— P-please! — he stammered, pulling the dagger that quivered under the dim light filtering through the treetops. — D-don't come any closer... please... Don't hurt me...
Like an artist whose brushes were the deepest fears, my face twisted into a sinister smile, my eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction as I watched him, like a predator savoring its prey. A low, mocking laugh escaped my lips, full of disdain.
— "Please, don't hurt me"... — I mimicked, my voice laced with infectious malice. The dagger in my hand spun as if it were a toy before I pointed it directly at him. — Isn't this a hilarious situation?
Half-Ear tried to respond, but his words got stuck in his dry throat, drowned by the despair enveloping him. When he finally comprehended the madness of the moment, his eyes widened, a mixture of horror and panic.
— You're a child! Just a... a damn child!!! — fear consumed him, making him look like a cornered cat, bristling in terror. — How is this possible... W-WHAT ARE YOU? WAS IT YOU?!! THE HORSES [...] AH??
I laughed again, the sound reverberating through the trees around us like the echo of distant thunder.
— A child? Yes, perhaps I look like a child on the outside, but inside... — my voice dropped to a whisper as I bent slightly, drawing closer to him. — Inside, I am something entirely different... AND YES, it was me!
My eyes locked onto his, the intensity of my gaze freezing him in place as if I had cast a spell, keeping his mind and heart captive in the presence of the true monster.
The tension in the air was palpable, like a storm on the verge of erupting. With the dagger still in his hand, Half-Ear, entangled in his own panic, realized that words wouldn't be enough to save his skin. In an instinctive move, he lunged with an attack, the blade gleaming threateningly as he tried to strike me, tilting his body toward mine. But I, quick as lightning, dodged effortlessly, a smile growing on my face as the adrenaline surged through my veins.
— If you want to know what I am... — I murmured, my voice as cold as winter's touch. — I am the reaper.
In an instant, the dagger found its way to his neck. The strike, precise and lethal, sent a jet of blood spraying forth, staining the earth with a vivid crimson as if the ground itself was feeding on his despair. Half-Ear's gaze shifted to one of disbelief, his eyes widening in a final, silent plea for mercy as he fell backward, his body writhing in agony.
He crawled across the ground, moving almost animalistically as life slipped away from him. The blood still pulsed, leaving a scarlet trail in his wake, each drag a final attempt to reach his friend, Broken-Nose. He fought against the darkness closing in, a growing shadow in his vision, seeking solace, a thread of hope that no longer existed.
— B-Broken... Nose... Hnnnnngh!! — his words came out as a whisper, punctuated by groans of pain. The world around him became a nebulous haze as he struggled to reach his friend, his only anchor in a sea of despair. He made it to Broken-Nose, whose eyes were wide open, lifeless. There, with one last breath, Half-Ear let out a tear of pain and regret, his strength fading, unable to react. Half-Ear extended a bloodstained hand toward his friend, but what remained of his strength left him before he could touch him. His glazed eyes froze in their final expression.
The scene before me was a portrait of mortality — two men who, just minutes ago, thought they could control me, now they were dead. The forest's silence was broken only by the muffled sound of the wind whispering through the leaves, as if the very environment had bowed to the violence it had just witnessed.
And, as a consequence, an unbearable weight began to settle in my body. The mana I had used to enhance my muscles and make my strike so precise and deadly now demanded its price. The vibrant energy that had once pulsed through my veins began to dissipate, each heartbeat echoing like a hammer, each breath growing harder, as if the air itself had turned to poison.
I felt the ground tremble beneath my feet, as if the earth were revolting against the scene of carnage it had just witnessed. My legs, once firm and agile, now felt weak, unable to bear the weight of what I had done. The world around me started to spin, the colors fading into a blur of shadows and light.
In an instant, reality unraveled, and I found myself collapsing backward, consciousness slipping away like sunlight retreating behind dark clouds. The last thought that crossed my mind before succumbing to the darkness was a strange mix of triumph and horror, the certainty that I had crossed an insurmountable line, a barrier that could never be undone.
Then, everything went black.
*
*
*
When you're swept away by sleep and lost in the mists of the dream realm, reality dissolves into a tapestry of desires and possibilities. But then, an unexpected alarm, a sudden call, shatters that serenity, and something deep inside you twists, a strange and confusing sensation that mixes bitter with sweet. There's an irresistible longing to return to that ethereal place, but an invisible force keeps you anchored in wakefulness. Even if your eyes close again, uncertainty stirs like shadows in a storm, promising that the dream's home may never be reached again.
And, after a long memory, I opened my eyes. The awakening was like the rising of a new sun, a renewing force enveloping me in its golden light. My mind cleared like a spring morning, and despite the exhaustion still lodged in my body, a surge of pure energy pulsed through me. It was as if the very essence of the universe danced in my veins, each beat of my heart echoing with power and potential. The sensation was exhilarating, as if I were on the verge of discovering a latent power that had until then remained dormant.
— YES! — I exclaimed, my voice resounding with fervor, filled with a determination that seemed to echo among the trees and rocks around me. — Finally!!