I was on the ground amidst five blurry images. These images came together, engulfing the world I had come to know and cherish in unquantifiable danger. Dread poured into me, making my heart throb with overwhelming pain and anguish. As they walked toward me, their blurry figures became more awe-stricken. Suddenly, I felt the urge to laugh. It wasn't that my situation was funny; it was just inevitable. I laughed crazily as tears streamed slowly down my cheeks. I cried for the people I cherished, for all my unachieved goals and desires, and finally for myself. This laughter marked the onset of loneliness as I began to accept my fate, and then I felt a tranquil peace...

Opening my eyes slowly, I recalled the dream I had just experienced with surprising clarity. The details were as vivid and enthralling as reality, and I made a conscious effort to push them to the back of my mind. As I took in my surroundings, I noticed the termite-infested wooden ceiling, with patches of rust-colored paint barely visible. I strained my tired body to sit upright on the bed. This feeling of weakness was becoming all too familiar, a consequence of my recurring dream that left me feeling as if I had spent an entire day working in the fields, though I had never experienced such before.

I looked around the unfamiliar yet fairly furnished room. A wooden table stood in front of me, and across the room hung a human-sized mirror. When I first saw it, I was awestruck by this large object. Although I had seen mirrors before, none had been of such magnitude. I can't even begin to imagine how it was made however, after a few days of living here, I had grown accustomed to its presence.

We, humans, are funny creatures; we adapt to most situations that we are in. Remembering what happened just a few days ago, I walked towards the window where I saw the usual sight of strongly built men toiling the soil and caring for the crops; few women were out of their homes at this time of the day, the ones that wer putting their clothes on the line, hoping the sun would say the entire day. I shift my gaze from the surroundings, and far into the distance. There, I spot a huge, round-shaped, gargantuan wall towering over everything else in this beautiful land with lush trees and breathtaking plants.

New unpleasant thoughts began to bubble up in my mind like I was drowning in cold water. I fell to the ground panting in pain as I began clenching my chest. These painful thoughts caused me to be in deep turmoil, but in time, I accepted it and cherished its cold embrace. Olav was gone; the towering walls that would inevitably catch anyone's eye in this strange place were my home, at least it was. What could I have done better? Would things have gone better if I said different words and taken different actions? These were the questions that I have been asking myself these past couple of days. I already knew the answer to these questions. There was nothing I could have done that would have made a difference.

Why did he betray me? Is this because of his unyielding sense of inferiority? Ahhh! The beautiful, the charismatic, the loved Viessa. Could his actions have been influenced by her? Having the girl he had loved all his life to not only reject your feelings but to be crazy over your brother instead. That shouldn't be it; at least, that is what I think. A lot of people my age and older were known to be smitten by her, after all, she was a peerless beauty. Was it because he could sense the indifference I felt towards her, or did he think that I was pitying him by not chasing after her? After all, he isn't one to behave rationally.

I immediately forced myself to stop this line of thought. Thinking that others were stupid and constantly lying to myself was what led me to my current situation. I knew that shouldn't have been his breaking point; what occurred between us in that place couldn't have happened because of petty reasons like that or am I giving him too much credit? I immediately stopped my thoughts once again; I realized I was deceiving myself after all he told me himself. The hatred he harbored for me was far too great. It was inevitable.

Gathered my thoughts, I picked myself up from the ground; I walked towards the human-sized window. There I saw him, familiar yet foreign. I have always considered myself better-looking than most, but the reflection before me was inhumanly beautiful to the point of being terrifyingly ugly. Adding insult to injury, not only my face had changed, but also my hair. It transformed from a greyish-black to pure white, like fresh snow. Then I noticed my eyes—the distinct light green eyes typical of people from Olav had vanished, replaced by deep black pupils that swirled relentlessly. If it weren't for the barely visible sword marks and a large reddish-brown patch on the left side of my abdomen by Felix, I wouldn't have been recognized myself anymore. I should be lucky to still be alive, but what is the point of it all without him? These past events have completely altered my sense of reality. Deciding to leave my room, I picked up the shirt given to me by that woman.

As I walked down the stairs, stained with a reddish-brown hue, each step made the damp wood feel as though it might collapse beneath me. The handrails, crafted with a crude design compared to those in other buildings, would have been considered unique in Olav. I had been intrigued by them when I first saw them.

Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I entered the living room. A metallic table was surrounded by two chairs, one more rugged than the other. Across the room, an armchair sat, all barely large enough to accommodate a person comfortably, and yet it fit the old but agile woman perfectly. Upon noticing me enter the room, she gave me a gleaming smile. I responded by forcing another back at her, after all, staying around her feels uncomfortable. For the past couple of days, I have been preying on her by eating her food, wearing her dead son's clothes, and sleeping comfortably in her home. I manage the guilt by telling myself how much I need a place to stay, and how bad she would feel when I tell her that I am not her son, not that it works all that well. The least I can do is to help out around the house and run errands, which I was just about to do.

Moving towards the table, I see a bunch of clothes clumped together, both belonging to the woman and I. After going through the clothes, I picked out a pair of socks, which gave me an intense struggle to put on; after all, wearing socks while standing without support isn't easy. Slipping her son's shoes on, I walk towards the door. "I'll get the food from the kitchen," I said casually while trying to hurry out, not wanting a reply. "Don't forget to wear your gloves; after all, today is a bit chilly," she said, not glancing up from her magazine. Awkwardly, I went back to the clothes pile, and after going through it once again, I took out a pair of thick white gloves and stepped out of the house.

A strong gale of wind made my recently outgrown curly hair, which draped over my shoulders and reached my waist, fluttering around, blocking my face entirely. Gently, I adjusted it, removing some strands that found a way to my lips and my eyes, and put them underneath my shirt. I didn't want to return to get a hairknot; avoiding a conversation with that poor woman would be worth it.

I walked absent-mindedly into a row of houses; after all, the direction of the kitchen had been engraved into me already. Several men and a few women wearing strange attires seemingly preparing to go where they trade. Children wearing identical clothing run around, excited, and without a sense of responsibility, they are going to a place of knowledge called 'school.' In Olav, we go to our various master's workplaces, where we apprentices help them out and, in return, learn their trade secrets.

These children remind me a lot of Felix. His aloof and always caring demeanor, his overly social personality, his mischievous grin and gentle smile.

Of course, not every one of these children was an extrovert, but it was nice to see that people were always the same and behaved similarly, Olav or not.

In a trance engulfed by my surroundings, a child, probably nine years of age, bumped into me. His facial features were hidden by his black curly hair, his brows furrowing in confusion as he looked up at me. His eyes widened as he tried to lock eyes with me. Unfortunately, he couldn't; he then muttered 'Pretty.' I was taken aback, not at all expecting that, but I didn't let it show. 'Pretty is probably an understatement,' I replied with a soft smile, stretching to pluck a jasmine from the ground and bent down to place it in his hair. 'After all, flowers cannot be regarded with such simple words'. Giggling, he said, 'You're funny' as he ran away towards his friends.

That sudden interaction brightened my mood. After all, these people did share the same physical features and brown completion with us from inside the walls. Not that I was that sentimental, but because there was a lot of Felix in that boy in particular. Instinctively raising my chin, I walked around with confidence. The women looked at me with lust-filled yes, the men looked at me with envy, and the children looked at me with awe; after all, I looked different from them all. All these stares didn't make me get flustered; I was used to this, so why am I feeling like this? Undoubtedly, there was a strong emotion emerging from my heart. It was a sense of accomplishment that I barely felt. I was finally free. After obsessing my whole damn life to get here, why should I feel sad, why would doubts be lingering in me? Hendrickson l didn't help me, he couldn't care less about me, and neither did I. Did he expect gratitude from me after making me his apprentice? Who would care about the floral shop? He didn't care about it either. Who would care about such useless things when your whole life has been a lie... When there is freedom in sight.

He could always leave; after all, he wasn't born there. He was only there to accomplish his twisted goals. Oh, how happy I was when I foiled his plans... I frowned a little, remembering his comeback and how devious it was. That, I guess, was the first seed of doubt planted in Felix and what made everything come apart... I gritted my teeth as I made a statement to myself 'I refuse to be held back by the past'. I started to run, tears flowing down my face. The taste of freedom is beautiful, memorable, and captivating. Ignoring the looks I got from my surroundings, I continued to quicken my pace. In the past, I wouldn't have been able to run so fast, but now I am as fast as the wind, its cool breeze ever so soft to the skin. I laughed tearing up more as I considered my potential. Ahh! What future would be in store for me? Power, knowledge, I want it all. I want to experience anything and everything. I would make that happen.

Looking at the kitchen not too far away, I slowed my steps and began walking. I gleamed realizing that I was not tired one bit as I approached the kitchen. It was huge, a building made not from wood but from material as hard as stone, they refer to it as concrete. In the kitchen, you don't need to fetch water from the lake, which is quite a distance ahead. Instead, weird cylindrical pipes do the work, and they come out from a tap that is connected and made from the same material as the pipes; how magical.

However, today, it seems that magic isn't working. I came to this conclusion because there were water droplets seemingly spilled on the ground and women were holding pales in their hands filled with water as they rushed toward the building. Looking to the left I saw where they were all coming from as women gathered around a tree where the well was positioned. Unwilling to see the people who cook my food also be burdened with heavy manual labor while I do nothing, I decided to help out.

I Walked towards the well, and that was when I noticed something strange. I stopped, my heart beating ever so slowly as my mind became blank. A girl was drawing water from the well. She wore a simple, plain dress with water drenching the fabric, which exposed her amazing figure. Her blonde and long, lustrous hair was tied, exposing her face, which looked like it was carved from the best sculptures that could have lived. The sunlight penetrated through the tree leaves shining onto her face as it reflected the light. Her pink lips were pursed as she clenched perfectly white teeth. Her thick brown and gentle face that reeked of femininity was in full concentration as she used all her strength to fetch the water.

I walked back slowly, afraid to make even a sound in such a noisy environment. My head began to spin, refusing to believe what my eyes were seeing, that was when the fear came. I ran, running faster than I ever have. Not even the monsters of the wraiths made me feel this much despair. Shit! Shit! How is she alive? Viessa should be dead. Then it hit me, Of course, she is alive; after all, she isn't from Olav. She must have been outside the walls when it happened; after all, she was the one who told me about the outside world, causing me to be fixated on leaving. What should I say when she asks about her family? What should I say when she asks of her friends, my infatuated brother, Felix. What would happen when I tell her that they are all dead because of me.