The remains of a once-thriving civilization lay sprawled around Yeaia, bathed in the dimming light of the setting sun. The ruins whispered with the wind, telling stories of long-forgotten inhabitants, of dreams that had faded into nothingness. Yeaia sat atop a crumbling stone, eyes fixed on the ship anchored near the distant shore.
They hadn't dared to approach yet.
Should I go?
There were too many unknowns. If Gehrman Sparrow and Anderson Hood were aboard, then perhaps this was an opportunity. But if they weren't? What if the ship was crewed by someone—or something—else entirely?
Yeaia ran a hand through their black-and-white hair, feeling the ember-like red highlights shift faintly, as if alive. Their mismatched eyes—one silver, one red—reflected the last remnants of daylight.
What are the pros and cons?
Pros:
If Gehrman Sparrow and Anderson were there, they might provide answers.
A chance to get off this island.
Perhaps… a direction forward.
Cons:
If the ship belonged to pirates, they might not be friendly.
If the crew was hostile, they would have to escape or fight.
If they revealed themselves too soon, they might not be able to retreat.
'Thinking this hard makes me want to just lay down and relax... probably the effect of being a beyonder from the Dreamer Pathway...'
Yeaia exhaled. It was risky. But hesitation wouldn't grant them anything.
Before taking that step, though, there was something they needed to do.
---
Testing the Dreamer's Power
Yeaia moved away from the ruins to an open space where the wind brushed against the tall grass. Taking a deep breath, they closed their eyes.
They were a Sequence 5 of the Dreamer Pathway, the memories told them so, but they had barely explored what that meant.
A thought drifted through their mind: What do I want to test first?
'Based on my memories...'
Their powers, like dreams, felt fluid—elusive yet potent. Perhaps the most fundamental ability was the manipulation of dreams themselves.
Yeaia reached out.
The air shimmered, and reality bent ever so slightly. It was as if the world had paused, like a dream lingering on the edge of wakefulness. The wind carried a faint hum, almost as if whispering secrets from another realm.
Then—shadows flickered.
The ruins around them twisted, reshaped. For a fleeting moment, Yeaia was standing in a city that no longer existed, seeing what had once been—a marketplace, children running through cobbled streets, a tower rising in the distance.
Then the vision faded.
They exhaled sharply.
Lingering Dreams. The ability to leave behind traces of what once was.
Another test.
They reached out again, this time focusing on themselves. What if they blurred the line between dream and reality?
Yeaia took a step forward, and their body flickered—half-existing, half-not.
A shift. A displacement.
They stood a few feet away from where they had been.
This wasn't teleportation—it was Dreamer's Drift. A movement that wasn't quite real, wasn't quite physical. It was like stepping through the in-between spaces of consciousness.
The air settled, and Yeaia felt a newfound confidence.
'Though I haven't tested all of my powers since I don't have much time...I can sense that it's decent enough to protect my self from danger.'
They weren't powerless.
And now, they have made their decision.
---
The night crept in, different from the night when the dream comes, the sky now a canvas of deep indigo. Yeaia moved toward the shore, staying in the shadows, hidden from view. The ship was anchored just ahead, its form outlined against the starlit sea.
Rather than reveal themselves immediately, they observed.
The ship was well-maintained, with a design that suggested it belonged to an organized crew rather than mere pirates. Lanterns cast a warm glow on the deck, illuminating figures moving about.
Then—familiar voices.
Yeaia's mismatched eyes widened slightly.
Gehrman Sparrow. Anderson Hood.
They were here.
---
At the Gangplank – Gehrman Sparrow & Anderson Hood's POV
Anderson Hood stretched his arms above his head, exhaling as he walked alongside Klein.
"Finally," he muttered. "I'm looking forward to a good meal, maybe a drink."
Klein Moretti—Gehrman Sparrow—remained silent. His trench coat barely shifted in the night breeze, and his footsteps were soundless against the wooden gangplank leading up to The Future.
As they neared the ship, he felt it.
A gaze.
Hesitant. Unfamiliar.
Yet… strangely expectant.
Klein's body tensed slightly, his spiritual intuition sharpening.
Anderson, sensing the change, turned his head slightly. "What is it?"
Klein didn't answer immediately. He just looked—not directly, but at the periphery of where the presence lingered.
"There's someone watching us," he finally said, voice quiet but certain.
Anderson frowned, then followed Klein's gaze. A moment later, his expression shifted to one of mild amusement. "Oh? A little stalker?"
Klein said nothing. The gaze wasn't hostile, but it wasn't exactly open either.
Anderson took a step forward and grinned. "Hey! If you're just gonna stand there lurking, you might as well come out. Or are you too shy?"
Silence.
Klein narrowed his eyes, his fingers twitching slightly toward the grip of his revolver.
Still no response.
Anderson let out a dramatic sigh. "Alright, mystery person, I get it. You're thinking about it. But if you keep hesitating, we're just going to board the ship and leave you behind—"
Soft footsteps.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
Yeaia Nolas.
Their hair, streaked black and white, caught the glow of the lantern light. Their mismatched eyes—red and silver—glimmered faintly as they took in both men.
Klein's expression remained unreadable, but his mind worked quickly.
They're real. This isn't just a dream.
Anderson raised an eyebrow. "Well, well. You again."
Yeaia's voice was quiet, hesitant but steady.
"Where are you going?"
Klein stayed silent, looking calm.
Anderson glanced at Gehrman before answering. "We're boarding The Future."
Yeaia's gaze flickered toward the ship. Their hesitation was almost tangible.
Anderson, never one for subtlety, smirked. "Wanna come along? Or are you going to keep standing there like some tragic, mysterious figure?"
Klein shot him a look, but to his surprise, Yeaia exhaled softly—as if resigning to fate.
"Alright," they said. 'I don't know where to go...and since I'm acquainted with them already...maybe I can go with them first?' Yeaia thought.
Klein observed them closely. There was something about this person that wasn't quite ordinary.
But for now, he chose not to pry.
---
Aboard The Future
The ship's deck was bustling with activity, crew members adjusting sails and preparing for departure. Amidst them stood a woman of commanding presence—deep violet hair, glasses reflecting the moonlight.
Cattleya, the Admiral of Stars.
She turned her gaze to Klein first, then to Anderson, and finally to Yeaia.
"This is the one?" she asked, tone neutral.
Klein paused and gave a slight nod.
Anderson flashed a grin. "Yep. Found them lurking."
Cattleya observed Yeaia for a long moment, then simply said, "We leave at dawn."
No further questions. No immediate rejection.
Yeaia stepped toward the railing, looking back at the ruins where they had been stranded.
The past was behind them.
For the first time in a long while, they weren't alone.
They had taken a step forward.
And something told them—there was no turning back.