The sky stretched endlessly in its serene blue, and the grass beneath me swayed like a living sea of green.
Before me stood a deity, her presence immense and otherworldly, as though the very essence of the grasslands had taken shape.
She had smooth, earthen-brown skin, her complexion glowing softly like sunlit bark.
Long, flowing hair the color of autumn leaves cascaded down her back, intertwining with delicate strands of silver that shimmered like moonlight.
Sprouting from her head were elegant antlers, their curves intricate and natural, as though sculpted by the hands of the forest itself.
Her eyes were captivating—wide and dark, reminiscent of a doe's, yet within them lay an unfathomable depth, as if they held the weight of eternity.
Every glance from her seemed to pierce the soul, tender yet unyielding.
She wore robes that merged simplicity and divinity: layers of white cloth draped over black silken garments, their edges trailing like wisps of mist.
Strands of delicate fabric floated around her, moving as if guided by a gentle breeze that only she could summon.
Her face bore an expression of serene wisdom, an unshakable peace that seemed to quiet the storm within me, if only for a moment.
"You are so lost, my little deer," she said, her voice soft yet vast, encompassing the entire expanse of the grasslands. "Do you find solace in despair?"
Her words resonated like the wind through the trees, her voice both a melody and a truth that reached deep into the heart.
Everything about her—her antlers, her eyes, her presence—felt infinite and pure, an embodiment of the very land she seemed to watch over.
"Lost? I do not think I am lost," I said, my voice steady but tinged with confusion. "In fact, I think it's you who is lost. After all, this is my dream."
She chuckled softly, a sound like rustling leaves in a quiet forest.
Her size was that of a mountain, and as her finger reached down and gently graced me, I felt a surge of mana, as if she were forged from the Song itself.
"What is this place? Though I'm still certain it's my dream, it feels... wrong to assume," I said, trying to make sense of the strange yet serene world.
She smiled, her voice a soothing balm. "To be exact, this is a world carved from your soul—a Soul Land."
I opened my mouth to speak again, but she raised her hand, silencing me with a gentle yet commanding gesture. "And I am the one who watches over you, a deity forged from this world, chosen to protect its savior."
With that, she reached forward, her finger piercing my chest like a blade of light. My breath hitched as a flood of energy surged through me—and then, in an instant, I woke.
I gasped, sitting upright in the quiet warmth of the tavern.
My breath was heavy, my heart racing, but the familiar scent of the room grounded me.
Soft and golden sunlight filtered through the window, as if the world itself had softened in the light of morning.
Shaking off the remnants of the dream, I rose from the simple cot, muscles stiff but ready.
The memory of her voice lingered in my mind like an echo, and with each passing moment, the clarity of her words began to fade, leaving only the profound weight of her presence.
After a quick bath in the small washroom upstairs, I donned my travel clothes and strapped my sword to my side.
The cool water had done little to dispel the strange unease growing within me, but it was enough to steady my resolve.
Downstairs, Virtue was cleaning a table, and Mora sat by the hearth, idly humming as she played with a small, makeshift doll.
"You're heading out again," Virtue said without looking up, her voice soft but knowing.
I nodded, stepping closer. "I have to. There's something calling me, though I don't fully understand it yet."
Virtue straightened and met my gaze, her expression calm yet tinged with something I couldn't quite place. "You've done enough for now, Kaelith. Don't let the world take everything from you before you've even had a chance to live."
I offered her a faint smile. "I'll be back, Virtue. Take care of Mora for me."
The little girl looked up, her wide eyes meeting mine. She smiled faintly but said nothing, her quiet acceptance a weight on my chest.
With that, I stepped outside into the cool morning air, the streets of the town slowly coming alive as merchants set up their stalls and children darted between the alleys.
I walked for hours, letting the town fade behind me until the forest enveloped me in its familiar embrace.
The trees stretched tall and proud, their branches intertwining to form a natural cathedral.
At last, I reached the clearing—a place of quiet solitude where the world seemed to hold its breath.
In the center stood a weathered rock, its surface smooth from time and rain.
I unsheathed my sword, its edge gleaming faintly in the dappled sunlight, and rested it against the stone as I sat down.
I came here for one thing—to pull this old, rusted sword from the stone.
It felt fitting, considering I was leaving this place for a good amount of time.
I wasn't sure when I'd see Virtue or Mora again, so leaving a gift felt right—a parting gesture for those who had given me so much.
I sighed, turning to face the weathered rock and the sword embedded in its heart.
Placing my hand on the hilt, a sudden flood of memories overwhelmed me—a cascade of cruel, heartless images I had long tried to bury.
///////////////////////////////////////////////
The village burned.
The acrid stench of smoke clawed at my throat as flames consumed everything—homes, fields, lives.
Screams filled the air, raw and desperate, blending with the clash of steel and guttural roars of the raiders.
Our home, nestled at the forest's edge, was supposed to be safe. My mother had always told me so. But tonight, even the trees could not protect us.
"Kaelith," she whispered urgently, pulling me close as she knelt beside me.
Her deep blue eyes, shimmering like stars, were filled with a fear she tried to hide.
Her dark skin glistened with sweat, and her long, curly brown hair was wild and disheveled.
"Stay quiet. Stay here." Her voice wavered, though she forced a small, trembling smile.
The chaos outside grew louder, and I flinched as heavy footsteps pounded against the earth, drawing closer.
My mother began to sing, her voice soft and soothing, as if her melody alone could shield me.
"Following the raindrops, they wish to see the lasting broken light,
She's not welcome, but she can cry—don't let her voice die.
Let's go to the garden, where we'll finally reach the song that has never cried.
Shattered like a tool broken by ashes, if that boy ever sang, last night.
War-torn child, war-torn... boy, will he ever see that light?
He takes a knee and falls to slumber...
Is it the last new light?"
The door shattered.
Three men barged in, their faces shadowed by helmets stained with soot and blood.
The leader—a towering figure with jagged scars carved across his cheeks—stepped forward, his sword gleaming in the firelight.
My mother rose to meet them, shielding me with her body as she continued to sing.
"Broken by water, soundless people crave, the lasting night.
He's still falling, but she welcomes the song that died.
Please don't harm him, he's my reason for living in this bare, cruel life..."
Her voice faltered as the leader thrust his blade into her chest.
Time slowed. I watched in horror as blood blossomed across her tunic, her body jerking violently.
She fell to her knees, gasping, yet even as her life slipped away, she continued to sing the song. Her trembling lips carried the final notes.
The leader's eyes met mine, cold and unfeeling. A cruel grin split his face.
"What are you going to do, boy?" he sneered. "Kill me with that dull scrap of metal?"
I hadn't even realized I was holding the sword.
It was rusted, heavy, and far too large for my small hands. But I gripped it tighter, my knuckles whitening as a burning rage consumed me.
The man turned to leave, but I lunged, swinging with all my strength. The blade caught him in the back, slicing through his armor.
He roared in pain, stumbling forward, but I didn't stop. I hacked and slashed, tears streaming down my face as his blood spattered the ground.
When it was over, I collapsed beside my mother, cradling her lifeless body in my arms.
I didn't have time to mourn. The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance—more of them were coming.
I staggered to my feet, clutching the sword, and lifted my mother's body into my arms. She felt so light, as if she were already fading from this world.
I ran.
The forest closed around me like a shroud, its shadows deep and foreboding. I stumbled over roots and rocks, my breath ragged, my legs screaming in protest.
They were still chasing me. I could hear their taunts, their laughter, as they closed the distance.
"Get the boy!" one of them shouted. "Kill him and take the body!"
I turned, panting, as the first man lunged at me. I swung the sword wildly, the blade catching him in the neck.
He fell, gurgling, but the second man was already upon me.
His axe grazed my side, and I cried out, the pain searing. Summoning the last of my strength, I drove the sword into his gut and kicked him away.
The third man hesitated, his confidence faltering as he saw his comrades fall.
That was his mistake.
I raised the sword, blood dripping from its rusted edge, and sang through gritted teeth:
"Born of fire, ashes we crave,
This cursed blade, your lives it takes.
Smoldering vengeance, justice divine,
To flames eternal, your souls consign..."
Flames erupted around me, consuming the bodies of the men I had killed.
The fire danced unnaturally, as if responding to my song, reducing them to smoldering ash.
***
Hours later, I buried my mother beneath the tallest tree in the forest.
Her grave was simple—a mound of earth marked with a single stone. I knelt beside it, spreading the ashes of her killers over the soil as a final curse.
"This place is sacred now," I murmured, my voice hoarse. "Your pain will not be forgotten."
Taking the rusted sword, I plunged it into the ground beside her grave, its hilt quivering as it came to rest.
It felt like leaving a part of myself behind—a piece of my soul embedded in the earth, bound to her forever.
///////////////////////////////////////////////
The memory faded, and I found myself back in the clearing, my hand still gripping the hilt of the sword.
It had been years since that night, but the weight of it never left me. This sword was a symbol of my past, of everything I had lost, and everything I had fought to protect.
With a steady breath, I pulled it free.