Year 818. Empire of Zeyos.
Five years after the events that marked history, Zikron's fame had skyrocketed. His fascinating achievements captivated the public's imagination, which already saw him as a future great leader. Among the top fifteen, Zikron, Ayla, Lunar, Elyone, Ester, and Byron stood out, their names echoing across the seven empires. Some were already known, but their stars now shone brighter than ever.
Night had fallen over the Empire of Zeyos. The lights of Zeyopolis, the capital, were beginning to dim. In the streets, life carried on: residents chatted in bars, drunken individuals wandered the sidewalks, and dealers lingered in the shadows, away from prying eyes. Couples strolled in the parks, while street singers and musicians brought the evening to life with their melodies. The atmosphere was ideal, and the cool air carried a subtle hint of escape.
Meanwhile, Zikron was in his room, trapped in a strange dream.
His vision was blurry. He stood in a dark corridor, overwhelmed by a suffocating heat. "Why is it so hot when it seems to be night?" he thought. He moved slowly, unsure of where he was going, but an insistent intuition compelled him to go straight ahead. His fingers brushed against the walls, as if to confirm they were real.
"This texture… it feels familiar," he murmured. Turning his head, he noticed a window and approached it, curious.
Outside, everything was blurred. He could discern the night but nothing more. A cold, spectral moonlight pierced the shadows. The atmosphere grew heavier, and the air thinned.
Zikron remained unfazed, but his thoughts were in turmoil.
"Where am I? Why is everything so unclear?"
he murmured. Black smoke began to rise, thickening gradually.
"Smoke? Why?" Intrigued, he kept moving forward. The smoke became denser, its smell more intense. "Is something burning?" His pace quickened. Breathing became difficult, and Zikron, panting, began to control his breathing to conserve air.
"Father's training wasn't useless, it seems," he thought with a hint of irony. Memories of that harsh training made him frown. Suddenly, a distant sound broke the silence.
"What is that?" Zikron strained his ears. The sound was faint, almost imperceptible. He closed his eyes to focus. After a minute, he understood: the noise came from ahead of him. He quickened his pace, more alert than ever. The sound grew clearer: "Crying? A baby?"
His expression darkened. His heart raced, and each step made his breathing heavier. A feeling of unease rose within him.
"Why am I so worried? It's just a dream," he tried to reassure himself. But the air grew hotter and hotter. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
He abandoned walking for running, not knowing why. His body seemed to act on its own. He coughed harshly, covering his nose with his arm. Ash danced in the heavy air.
Ahead, a bright light shone at the end of the corridor.
His eyes widened. He instantly recognized what he saw: fire. A room was ablaze, and in the midst of the inferno, a child was crying. From the sound of the sobs, it seemed to be a newborn.
"No, not this!" Zikron shouted. His voice echoed through the corridor. An inexplicable sadness engulfed him, paralyzing his thoughts. The only phrase repeating in his mind was: "Please let them still be alive."
"Them? Why 'them'? There's only one child…" he thought, confused. Without hesitation, he kicked the door open. The scene before him was overwhelming. Intense flames consumed everything, rendering the room unrecognizable. In the center, two cribs stood upright, miraculously untouched by the flames.
He approached, walking through the fire. In the cribs, he saw two infants: a girl and a boy. The girl cried uncontrollably, as if she felt the weight of an imminent tragedy.
The boy, however, was calm, a single tear rolling down his cheek, as though he was ready to face the chaos ahead. Their faces were blurry, but Zikron could make out these details with uncanny clarity.
He was intrigued: the flames seemed to avoid touching the children, as if they were connected to them.
"Just in case, I have to get them out of here. Even if this is just a dream, I feel compelled to do it," he murmured. He prepared to pick them up but suddenly felt a tear roll down his left cheek. "I'm crying? Why?"
BOOM!
A violent explosion resounded. A wall shattered. Instinctively, Zikron moved to protect the children, but everything went black. His vision faded.
The dream was over.