Mikel lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The shadows of the room seemed to dance in time with his heartbeat, each pulse reminding him of the terrifying dream he had just experienced. His mind felt foggy, as if the dream's unsettling images were still lingering in the corners of his thoughts, just out of reach. The woman with the hollow eyes. The whispering voice. Remember me.
He tried to shake off the unease, but it was no use. The dream felt too real, too familiar. It was as if the dream wasn't just a vision—it was a memory, something buried deep within him that he had forgotten. Mikel's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his body tense. He didn't understand why he was feeling this way. He had no memory of the woman, no reason to believe he knew her, and yet… the connection felt undeniable.
"Why?" Mikel muttered under his breath. "What was that dream? Who was she?"
A soft knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Mikel sat up quickly, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to steady his breathing. He wasn't sure if he was ready to face anyone just yet, but the knock came again, more insistent this time. Reluctantly, he swung his legs off the bed and walked to the door.
When he opened it, he found Naira standing in the hallway, her expression unreadable. She had changed into a long, dark robe, and her hair was pulled back in a loose braid, though a few strands still framed her face. There was something in her eyes—something distant, as though she had seen too much and was carrying it with her wherever she went.
"Are you well?" Naira asked, her voice soft but carrying an edge of concern.
Mikel nodded, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. "I'm fine. Just a… bad dream."
Naira's gaze softened, though she didn't seem surprised. "The dream always comes. But some dreams are not just dreams, Mikel. Some of them are memories we are not yet ready to face."
Her words struck a chord deep within him, and Mikel felt a chill run down his spine. "You know about the dream?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Naira nodded, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him feel like she was looking straight into his soul. "I have seen it too," she said quietly. "And I know the feeling—the way it pulls at you, making you question everything. But the dream is just the beginning. The inn will show you what you need to see, not what you want to see."
Mikel swallowed hard. "What do you mean? What does it want from me?"
"The inn doesn't ask for anything," Naira replied. "It simply reveals truths. But those truths can be difficult to bear. You must be prepared, Mikel. For whatever is to come."
Her words were cryptic, but there was something about her tone that made Mikel feel like she was trying to warn him. He felt the pull of something deep within him, a sense of destiny he couldn't escape. The dream had stirred something inside of him, and it was as though the inn had been waiting for him, guiding him toward whatever it was that awaited him.
"Come," Naira said, turning toward the hallway. "There is someone who might help you understand more. He is one of the oldest guests here. Perhaps he can explain the dream, or at least give you some direction."
Mikel followed her down the long corridor, his mind racing. He had no idea what to expect from this mysterious guest, but at this point, he was willing to try anything. The inn was making it clear that it had a plan for him, and he had no choice but to follow it—whether he liked it or not.
After what seemed like an eternity of winding hallways, Naira stopped in front of a large door near the end of the hall. The wood was dark, worn with age, and the brass handle was cold to the touch. She knocked twice, the sound echoing through the silence.
"Come in," a voice called from inside, deep and gravelly, with a kind of authority that immediately commanded Mikel's attention.
Naira opened the door, and Mikel stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a few chairs, a desk, and a massive bookshelf that stretched from floor to ceiling. There was a large man sitting behind the desk, his face obscured by the shadows. His graying hair and long beard were tangled, and his clothes were simple, though they carried an air of authority.
"This is Dorian," Naira said, gesturing to the man. "He is the one who can help you."
Dorian looked up, his eyes piercing despite the dim light. He studied Mikel for a long moment, as if assessing him, before he finally spoke.
"I've been waiting for you, boy," Dorian said, his voice like gravel grinding beneath the weight of years. "I knew you'd come sooner or later. The inn doesn't make mistakes."
Mikel felt a cold shiver run through him at the mention of the inn. "You know about me? About the dream?"
Dorian chuckled, though there was no warmth in the sound. "I know much more than that. I know what the inn wants from you. I know what you've forgotten."
Mikel felt a knot tighten in his stomach. "What have I forgotten? What is this place? Why am I here?"
Dorian's gaze softened, just slightly, and he motioned for Mikel to sit. "The inn has a way of drawing in those who are lost, those who need something—whether they know it or not. It brings people here because they have unfinished business. The dream is only the beginning, Mikel. It's the first step in remembering who you truly are."
Mikel's pulse quickened. "Who I am? What do you mean?"
Dorian leaned forward, his eyes never leaving Mikel's. "The woman in your dream," he began, his voice low and deliberate. "She is no stranger to you. You've seen her before, long ago. You've forgotten her, yes, but that does not mean she is gone. The inn has a way of making you face the things you've buried deep inside, things you've tried to forget. And the woman in your dream… she is part of that."
Mikel's mind raced, but before he could ask another question, Dorian held up a hand.
"Not yet," Dorian said, his voice firm. "You are not ready to hear the full truth. But you will be. In time, the inn will show you what you need to know. Trust in it, and trust in yourself."
Naira stepped forward, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and hope. "The truth will come, Mikel. But remember—there is no going back. Once you begin this path, you must see it through to the end."
Mikel took a deep breath, the weight of Dorian's words settling on his shoulders. He didn't understand it all, not yet, but one thing was clear: the inn had chosen him for something, something he couldn't escape.
And the truth—whatever it was—was waiting for him