Zenith lay on the cool stone floor, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind finally still. The ache in his muscles was dulled, replaced by a soothing warmth that radiated from within. Beside him, Erya rested peacefully, her hand lightly draped over his chest.
He let out a long breath, the tension that had clung to him for days now melted away. His eyelids fluttered as sleep began to pull him under, and for once, he didn't fight it. The fire crackled low, its glow dim but comforting, the perfect backdrop to the silence of the cave.
As he drifted off, the weight of the world seemed to fall away. It wasn't just physical rest—it was something deeper, something he hadn't allowed himself to feel in a long time.
At first, his dreams were soft and fragmented—fleeting images of things familiar and distant. The kind of dreams where the edges blur, and nothing feels quite real. Then, like a ripple in still water, the market came into focus.
He was there again, weaving through the crowded streets, the smell of spices and baked bread filling the air. The noise of merchants calling out their wares and children laughing as they played echoed around him.
And then he saw her.
She stood at the edge of the crowd, her golden hair catching the light, her green eyes locking onto his. There was something magnetic about her gaze, an unspoken challenge that compelled him to follow. She turned quickly, slipping into the throng of people, and he moved without thinking, his feet carrying him after her.
"Wait!" he shouted, his voice drowned by the chaos of the market.
He pushed past a vendor selling bright fabrics, nearly toppling a stack of crates in his haste. The girl moved like a shadow, always just out of reach. Every time he thought he'd caught up, she turned another corner, her figure disappearing behind stalls and crowds.
Finally, she led him to the library. The old building loomed before him, its once-grand facade weathered by time. Vines crept along the walls, and the massive doors stood slightly ajar, creaking as he pushed them open.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the scent of aged parchment. The dim light filtered through cracked windows, illuminating the pedestal in the center of the room. And there it was—the book.
It sat as if waiting for him, its dark leather cover inscribed with intricate symbols that seemed to pulse faintly in the gloom. He approached slowly, his steps echoing on the stone floor.
But before he could reach out, he turned, looking for her. She was standing near the doorway, her expression unreadable. There was something in her eyes—a knowing smile that felt both comforting and unsettling. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask her what this all meant, but before he could form the words, she was gone.
The memory blurred, her face lingering longer than it should have, her smile sharper and more deliberate. Her presence felt less like chance and more like a carefully placed piece in a larger puzzle.
Zenith stirred in his sleep, his brow furrowing, his body shifting as the dream dug deeper into his mind. His fingers twitched, and he let out a soft murmur, the firelight flickering faintly against his skin.
Then, as if pulled from the depths of his dream by an invisible hand, his eyes snapped open.
The cave was quiet, the embers of the fire glowing faintly in the dark. Erya was still beside him, her breathing soft and even. But Zenith couldn't shake the unease that gripped him.
"That wasn't just a dream," he whispered to himself, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. His heart still raced, and the girl's knowing smile lingered in his mind like an unanswered question.
He stared at the fire for a moment, then at Erya, her face calm and peaceful in the dim light. He didn't want to wake her. Whatever this was—dream, memory, or something else entirely—he had to face it alone for now.
Wrapping his cloak around his shoulders, he stepped outside, letting the cool night air wash over him. The stars overhead were brilliant, their light casting a faint glow over the cliffs.
Zenith leaned against the stone wall, his thoughts churning. "Was it a coincidence?" he muttered to himself. "Or was I meant to find that book? Meant to follow her?"
The questions swirled in his mind, but the night gave no answers. For now, all he could do was stand there, watching the stars and letting the beauty of the night steady his restless thoughts.