The ruins stretched endlessly before Yeaia, their crumbling silhouettes casting long shadows in the dim afternoon light. The sky above was a deep, shifting blue, blending with the distant horizon where the sea lapped gently at the fractured remnants of civilization. Despite the silence, an eerie feeling of something lingering beneath the surface never left them.
Yeaia let out a quiet sigh, brushing a hand through their black and white hair, feeling the faint warmth of the red highlights. The events of the previous night still clung to their mind like fragments of a dream half-remembered.
No—more than a dream.
The figures they had met—Anderson and the man with the gold-rimmed glasses—were real. Yeaia wasn't sure how they knew this, but their instincts screamed it. They had witnessed something, something important.
The fight with the Saint of Darkness.
The way Gehrman Sparrow—no, they still didn't know his name—had fought with such precision, as though the very fabric of the dream bowed to his will. It was unlike anything Yeaia had ever seen. And before they could act—before they could help—the dream had ended.
They frowned, glancing around the ruins. Would they see them again?
Would they get the chance to understand what was happening?
With a deep breath, Yeaia pushed those thoughts aside for now. First, they needed to focus on making sense of their surroundings.
---
Exploring the Forgotten Ruins
The ruins were ancient, worn down by time and the relentless embrace of the sea. Despite their decay, Yeaia couldn't shake the feeling that something still lingered within them—an echo of the past refusing to fade.
They ran their fingers across the stone walls, tracing the faint carvings etched into their surface. Though they couldn't read the language, the symbols seemed almost familiar, like a memory buried deep in their mind.
More whispers. More fragments of something lost.
These markings… have I seen them before?
'What is it that you're trying to tell me...?'
A cold breeze drifted through the ruins, carrying with it the scent of salt and something older, something almost metallic. Yeaia shivered, pulling their coat tighter around them.
Pushing forward, they stepped over broken pillars and uneven ground, careful not to disturb the fragile structures that still stood. Every so often, they caught glimpses of movement in the corners of their vision—shadows shifting, shapes flickering like echoes of something long gone.
They ignored them.
If I acknowledge them, they might acknowledge me too.
'Who knows...maybe my short time of being 'alive ' will be cut short once I acknowledge them...' Yeaia lampooned.
At the heart of the ruins, they found what seemed to be a small plaza, half-submerged in water. Ancient stonework peeked out from beneath the waves, the reflections making it appear as though another world lay just beneath the surface.
Yeaia crouched at the water's edge, staring into the depths.
For a moment, they swore they saw something staring back.
A ripple distorted the image.
They stood abruptly, heart pounding.
'W-What was that...? What did I see..?'
Enough of this. I need to—
Yeaia stiffened.
Then they saw it.
---
Beyond the ruins, on the nearby island across the waters, a ship rested by the shore.
Yeaia froze.
The vessel wasn't grand like the stories of the great pirate ships, nor was it a simple fishing boat. It was sturdy, well-built, and far too modern to belong to the remnants of these ruins. The dark sails shifted slightly with the breeze, and from this distance, they could barely make out movement on board.
A real ship.
A real crew.
For the first time since awakening, Yeaia felt the full weight of uncertainty settle over them.
Should they go near?
Would they be welcomed?
Or would they be seen as a threat?
A part of them wanted to move immediately, to at least confirm who these people were. But another part hesitated.
There were too many unknowns.
And besides… the night is coming soon.
'Too many things happened all at once... I'll think about it more carefully after the night ends.' Yeaia feeling quite overwhelmed, fiddled with the red ember-like highlights of their hair.
They let out a slow breath and took a seat on a nearby ruin, watching the ship in silence as the sun dipped lower into the horizon.
And as expected—
The night came.
And with it, the dream.
---
The world shifted once more, the ruins dissolving into a familiar haze. Yeaia found themselves once again in the vast, dreamlike version of the city, where the air itself seemed to hum with an unseen force.
And they weren't alone.
Anderson stood nearby, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression as casual as ever.
But this time, so was the man with the gold-rimmed glasses.
Yeaia stiffened slightly.
They had expected to see them again, but not like this. Not all at once.
For a moment, none of them spoke.
Then, with measured caution, the man with glasses—Gehrman Sparrow—took a step forward, his golden-brown eyes studying Yeaia intently.
"…Introduce yourself first."
His voice was calm but deliberate, revealing nothing.
Yeaia tilted their head slightly, narrowing their eyes. It was clear he was being cautious, unwilling to give anything away before understanding who—or what—they were.
A reasonable approach.
"…Yeaia," they finally said. "Yeaia Nolas."
Gehrman didn't react at first, simply watching them as if weighing the truth of their words.
Then, after a brief pause, he gave his own name.
"Gehrman Sparrow."
Anderson let out a low whistle. "Great, now that the introductions are over, let's—"
Before he could finish, Gehrman suddenly vanished.
Just like that.
Gone.
As if the dream had swallowed him whole.
Yeaia's breath caught in their throat. They turned to Anderson, who looked just as caught off guard.
"…Did he just—?"
Anderson frowned, his usual nonchalance slipping for a brief moment. "I… don't think he left on purpose."
Seconds passed.
Then minutes.
Yeaia and Anderson exchanged glances.
Gehrman didn't return.
The atmosphere of the dream began to feel heavier, the air thick with an unspoken tension.
Anderson muttered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. "If he's not coming back, that's bad news. Either the dream spat him out or…" He didn't finish the sentence.
Yeaia frowned, their mismatched red and silver eyes scanning the dreamscape. They weren't sure why, but something told them Gehrman wasn't truly gone.
Then—
A shift.
The dream rippled unnaturally, like the surface of a disturbed pond.
And Gehrman Sparrow appeared again.
Standing exactly where he had been, as if he had never left.
Anderson flinched. "Bloody hell, don't do that. Almost made me think I lost my mind."
But Yeaia wasn't just startled.
They were certain now.
There was something strange about Gehrman Sparrow.
Something that didn't quite fit.
They conversed a bit longer, exchanging cautious words, probing for understanding without giving away too much. But no matter how much was said, the truth remained buried beneath layers of uncertainty.
Then, as before—
The night ended.
And Yeaia woke once more.
---
Morning light spilled across the ruins, chasing away the lingering chill of the dream.
Yeaia sat up, running a hand down their face.
That had confirmed it.
Gehrman was connected to something beyond this place. And Anderson, despite his aloof attitude, wasn't normal either.
But what did it all mean?
And what did they see earlier at the water's edge?
'I have so many questions but still no answer... what am I even supposed to do in this world? My memories said I'm searching for the sequences of the Dreamer Pathway...but how? Even though the memories gave me decent information, apparently, I can only remember once I see it.' Yeaia feeling frustrated, rubbed their hair furiously.
'This is so troublesome and so annoying...:
They let out a slow breath, standing up and turning toward the distant ship still docked on the nearby island.
The decision lingered at the edge of their mind.
Should they approach?
Or should they stay hidden a little longer?
Their fingers curled slightly, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on them.
Then, finally—
They made their choice.