Chapter 10 - nightmare

After the feast, Florã made her way back to the modest hut she had been calling home since her arrival in the village. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze, and the air carried a lingering warmth from the evening's celebrations. Pushing open the wooden door, she stepped inside, the faint creak of the hinges echoing softly in the stillness.

The hut was simple—a single room with walls made of rough-hewn timber and a roof patched together with straw and thatch. A small cot rested in one corner, its mattress thin but sufficient, and beside it stood a crude wooden table with a lone candle flickering weakly. Her twin swords leaned against the wall where she had placed them earlier, their faint glow providing a subtle contrast to the rustic interior.

Florã let out a quiet sigh as she removed her cloak, draping it over the back of a rickety chair. She ran a hand through her dark hair, her mind already racing despite the exhaustion weighing on her body. Sitting on the edge of the cot, she gazed at the dimly lit room, her thoughts consumed by the challenges ahead.

The bandits won't wait long before striking again, she thought, her brow furrowing. They'll see the village's growing strength as a threat. If we're not prepared, they'll tear everything apart. Her gaze fell to the rough wooden floor as she began to plan. I need to organize defenses—set up watch rotations, teach the villagers how to handle weapons, and prepare for the worst. But that's not enough. These huts are barely holding together. If the bandits don't destroy them, the next storm might.

She leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands clasped tightly together. I'll need to contact builders from outside the village, people who can help reinforce these homes and make them safer. But how can I convince them to help? And who can I trust to handle negotiations while I stay here?

The weight of her responsibilities pressed down on her, and for a moment, Florã felt a pang of doubt. Can I do this? Can I protect them all? But the doubt was fleeting, quickly replaced by the quiet determination that had always driven her.

Pushing herself upright, she reached for the candle on the table, intending to snuff it out. Her hand paused as another thought struck her. The villagers rely on me, but I need to show them they can rely on themselves too. If I can teach them to fight, to defend what's theirs, they'll have a strength no one can take away.

As her thoughts continued to swirl, her body finally began to give in to exhaustion. She leaned back onto the cot, her head resting against the coarse pillow. Her eyes, heavy with fatigue, drifted to the faint glow of her swords in the corner. Their silent presence was a reminder of her strength and purpose.

There's so much to do... so much to fix, she thought, her eyelids fluttering shut. Tomorrow, I'll start. I'll build a future for them.

Before she could think any further, sleep claimed her. The flickering candle on the table burned low, casting soft shadows across the walls of the humble hut. Outside, the village slept soundly, unaware of the sacrifices and plans being formed by their quiet protector. For now, Florã could rest, though her resolve remained as unshakable as ever..

Florã stood in the endless void, an oppressive darkness stretching in every direction. Her boots echoed faintly against an invisible ground as she walked, her heart steady despite the eerie silence surrounding her. The further she ventured, the more the darkness seemed to press against her, suffocating yet strangely alive.

She reached for her twin swords, their comforting weight a reminder of her strength. But as she swung them, they slipped from her grip and flew into the void. The crimson and shadowy blades spiraled into the air, casting an eerie glow before vanishing completely. From where they disappeared, a figure emerged—a shadowy, indistinct form, its presence both menacing and oddly familiar.

"You have a strong will," the shadow said, its voice low and resonant, echoing in the emptiness. "You are perfect for what is to come."

Florã narrowed her eyes, her body tensing. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What are you talking about? Where am I?"

The shadow did not answer. Its form flickered and twisted, as if it were both part of the darkness and separate from it.

Anger flared within her. Without hesitation, she rushed toward the figure, her fists clenched. "Answer me!" she shouted, swinging with all her might. Her strikes cut through the air, but each blow passed harmlessly through the shadow. Undeterred, she struck again and again, her frustration growing with every failed attempt.

The shadow wavered, its form dispersing like smoke. "You will understand in time," it murmured, its voice fading as its presence dissolved completely.

"No!" Florã shouted, her voice echoing in the emptiness. She spun around, searching for any trace of the figure, but there was nothing—only the suffocating void. She started to walk again, her breaths quickening. Every step felt heavier, the darkness clawing at her resolve. It was endless, consuming.

Her pace quickened, then faltered, her surroundings unchanging. She began to shout, her voice hoarse with desperation. "Where am I? What is this?"

Suddenly, her eyes flew open, and she found herself in her cot, drenched in sweat. The dim light of early dawn filtered through the cracks in the hut's wooden walls. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she realized it had all been a dream—a haunting, vivid nightmare.

Before she could steady herself, the sound of hurried footsteps and anxious voices broke the silence outside. A moment later, the door swung open, and Lorian barged in, followed by several villagers.

"Florien! Are you all right?" Lorian asked, his voice tinged with concern. "We heard shouting."

The villagers crowded near the doorway, their faces a mixture of worry and confusion.

Florã raised a hand to her forehead, her fingers trembling slightly as she wiped the sweat away. Forcing herself to sit upright, she met their eyes with calm resolve. "I'm fine," she said, her voice steady despite the lingering dread in her chest. "It was just a nightmare. Nothing to worry about."

Lorian studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced, but he nodded. "If you're sure."

Florã swung her legs over the side of the cot, rising to her feet. "I'll be ready shortly," she said, her tone firm. "Wait for me outside."

The villagers hesitated, exchanging glances, but they obeyed, filing out of the hut one by one. Lorian lingered for a moment longer, his brow furrowed, before stepping out as well.

As the door closed behind them, Florã stood still, her hand resting against the wooden wall. Her heart had slowed, but the weight of the dream lingered. What had the shadow meant? Why did it feel so real?

Shaking off the thought, she splashed water on her face from the small basin near the door and took a deep breath. Whatever the dream had been, she couldn't let it distract her. The villagers were depending on her, and she couldn't afford to falter now.

Florã steadied herself, taking a deep breath as she changed out of her sweat-drenched clothes. The headache lingered, a dull but persistent throb behind her temples. Determined to shake off the lingering fear from her nightmare, she stepped outside her room, hoping the fresh air would help.

To her surprise, she found Lorian waiting just outside, his face etched with concern. As soon as he saw her, he rushed forward. "Floren, are you okay now? What was that nightmare about? Tell me everything."

Florã leaned heavily against the wall, pressing a hand to her head. Her strength was waning, and the pain flared up, sharper this time. "I... I'm not feeling well," she admitted, her voice faint. Her knees buckled under her, and she sank to the floor, clutching her head as the pain became unbearable.

Panic flashed across Lorian's face. He knelt beside her, his hands hovering uncertainly, unsure of how to help. "Florã! Stand up, please. You need to rest. Let me take you back to your room."

Lorian carefully laid Florã down on her bed, tucking the blanket around her. He studied her face, pale and etched with exhaustion, and his worry deepened. "Stay here and rest," he said softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "I'll bring you something to eat. You need to regain your strength."

Florã nodded weakly, her eyes fluttering closed. She didn't have the energy to argue, her body aching and her mind still clouded with remnants of the nightmare. Lorian lingered for a moment, reluctant to leave her side, but he knew she needed sustenance.

As he walked to the kitchen, his thoughts swirled with unease. What's happening to her? he's strong—stronger than anyone I know. But this… this is different. The image of her collapsing, clutching her head in pain, haunted him. He couldn't shake the feeling that whatever she was experiencing went beyond physical exhaustion.

He quickly prepared a tray with some bread, fruit, and a warm broth, his hands moving automatically while his mind raced.

Returning to her room, Lorian found Florã still lying in the same position, her breathing steadier but her expression troubled. He set the tray down on the bedside table and gently touched her shoulder. "Florã, I brought you breakfast. You need to eat."

She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze meeting his. There was a flicker of gratitude there, though the weariness remained. "Thank you, Lorian," she murmured, her voice hoarse.

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a faint smile, sitting beside her. "You scared me earlier. I… I don't like seeing you like this."

Florã managed a faint smile in return, though it didn't reach her eyes. "I'll be fine. I just need time."

Lorian nodded, though he wasn't convinced. As she slowly began to eat, he resolved to stay close, to figure out what was happening to her—and to ensure she wouldn't have to face it alone.