The nightmare consumed me before I could even fight it.
I was back on Jeongdo Island, the cool breeze carrying the scent of the sea, mingling with the warmth of the fire we had made. Alexios sat beside me, his voice soft yet steady.
"We'll find a way," he said, his gaze fixed on the stars scattered across the night sky. "No matter what it takes, Amira, I'll keep you safe."
His words, so filled with hope and conviction, warmed me, anchoring me in that fleeting moment of peace. But as quickly as it came, the warmth was ripped away. The stars dimmed, the light fading into suffocating darkness.
The scene shifted violently.
The once tranquil night transformed into chaos. Shadows blurred into faceless figures, their movements swift and deliberate. The dagger glinted in their hands before plunging into my side, searing pain exploding through me. I stumbled back, choking on the metallic taste of blood, my vision blurring as the world tilted.
Then she appeared—Theia, radiant and commanding, her presence cutting through the chaos. Her voice, calm yet tinged with urgency, filled the chamber.
"The power within her… it's divine, yet suppressed. Only Adira could have sealed it."
Alexios's desperate voice followed, grounding me once more. "Do it! Please—save her. I'll bring her back, no matter what it takes."
The portal swirled into existence, blinding light filling the space. Theia's final words echoed in my mind as the portal's pull enveloped me: "Her soul must travel to another world, but the journey will distort her memories."
And then, I was falling—falling endlessly into the light.
I woke with a gasp, my chest heaving and my body trembling. Tears stung my eyes, hot trails running down my cheeks. The sunlight filtering through the curtains felt almost alien after the storm of memories, its warmth a harsh contrast to the lingering chill of the nightmare.
For a moment, I lay there, my breath shallow as I tried to orient myself. I wasn't in Korea. I wasn't on Jeongdo Island. I was here, in Xylos, and the nightmare was just that—a nightmare.
A soft rustle drew my attention, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned my head, and my breath caught at the sight before me.
Kazmir.
The Grand Duke of Xylos, ever composed and regal, was slumped beside my bed in the most unflattering position imaginable. His head rested awkwardly on the edge of the mattress, his usually immaculate hair sticking out at odd angles. His mouth was slightly open, and a soft snore escaped him every few seconds. Most amusingly, his hand clung to mine like a lifeline, his grip firm even in sleep.
I stared at him, a mixture of emotions swelling in my chest. Gratitude, warmth, and—though I'd never admit it to him—amusement. He looked utterly ridiculous. A small smile tugged at my lips, the first genuine one I'd managed in what felt like days.
"Even in sleep, you're impossible," I murmured under my breath.
Unable to help myself, I gently squeezed his hand. His eyes fluttered open immediately, groggy and unfocused at first, before locking onto mine. Relief washed over his face, and he sat up so quickly that the chair beneath him wobbled precariously.
"You're awake!" he exclaimed, his voice rough with sleep but brimming with concern. He leaned forward, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he wanted to check for injuries but wasn't sure where to start. "How are you feeling? Do you need water? Food? Should I call Helena? Or maybe a doctor? Wait—are you in pain?"
"Kazmir," I said softly, my voice hoarse but steady. "I'm fine."
He frowned, clearly unconvinced. "You don't look fine. You look pale. And your eyes are swollen." He paused, his brow furrowing. "Were you crying?"
The quiet observation made my chest tighten. I looked away, unwilling to let him see the cracks in my composure. "It was just a bad dream," I said, the words feeling hollow even to me. "Nothing to worry about."
Kazmir wasn't buying it. His hand tightened around mine, his touch warm and grounding. "Amira," he said firmly, his voice softer now but no less resolute, "you don't have to pretend with me. Whatever it was—whatever hurt you—I'll make sure it never touches you again. I swear it."
His words, filled with so much sincerity, sent a pang through my chest. I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him. But trust had always been a luxury I couldn't afford.
Before I could reply, a loud snort startled us both. I blinked, confused until I realized it had come from Kazmir's chair. The wobble earlier must have loosened one of the legs, and as Kazmir shifted, the poor piece of furniture finally gave up, sending him tumbling backward with an unceremonious crash.
For a moment, I froze, unsure whether to be horrified or amused. Then Kazmir groaned, his hand flopping in the air dramatically. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me," he muttered, his voice muffled by the floor. "It's not like I just risked my lifeguarding your dreams or anything."
A laugh burst from my lips before I could stop it, the sound catching me by surprise. Kazmir glanced up, his eyes widening slightly at the sound. Then he grinned, his expression boyish and full of mischief.
"Well," he said, pushing himself upright with exaggerated effort, "if that's what it takes to make you laugh, I'll fall over every chair in this palace."
"You're ridiculous," I said, my voice lighter than it had been in days.
"And yet, you're smiling," he shot back, his grin widening.
Before I could respond, the sound of a throat clearing made us both freeze. Standing in the doorway was Helena, her arms crossed and her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement.
"Your Grace," she said pointedly, "Amira is still in her nightgown."
Kazmir blinked, his gaze darting to me before realization dawned. His face turned bright red, and he scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the fallen chair in his haste.
"I—uh—I wasn't doing anything inappropriate!" he stammered, his usual eloquence abandoning him. "We were just—she was laughing! I mean, I made her laugh! Wait, no, that sounds worse—"
"Your Grace," Helena interrupted, her tone dry. "Perhaps you should wait outside while I assist the lady."
Kazmir sighed dramatically, muttering under his breath as he retreated. "Fine. But I'll be right outside, Amira. If you need anything—anything at all—just call."
As the door closed behind him, Helena turned to me, her expression softening as she placed a robe over my shoulders. "He means well," she said, shaking her head fondly. "But I swear, that man has no sense of decorum."
I chuckled, the tension in my chest easing slightly. "He doesn't."
Helena's smile widened. "No, but for you, my lady, he'd gladly toss decorum to the wind. Rest now. Whatever plagues you, it can wait until you've regained your strength."
I nodded, letting her words settle over me like a warm blanket. But even as my body relaxed, my mind remained restless, the echoes of my nightmare lingering.
Theia's voice whispered through my thoughts: "Her soul must travel to another world… but the journey will distort her memories."
Had I made the right choice? Or had I lost something too precious to ever recover?
Kazmir's words broke through the storm in my mind: "I'll make sure it never touches you again."
For the first time in a long while, I let myself believe that maybe I wasn't alone after all.