Waking Dream

It didn't feel great to realize that the person I looked to as a spiritual guide had only been giving me bits of the truth when it suited him. But I couldn't—or wouldn't—force more information out of him. The Elder, or Mark as he called himself, was practical in his reasoning, and I understood that. Still, from the day I was locked in this cell until now, he'd led me in nightly prayers and kept me company.

I sought comfort in him whenever the others in his group disappeared one by one. Even if, in the grand scheme of things, they were practically strangers, we shared the same situation. I told him what little I remembered about my mother—how she conceived me without ever knowing my father, making me a bastard. Those memories felt distant, but sharing them with Mark gave me a small measure of peace.

Laying my head down on the mat, I stared at the ceiling. I had a lot on my mind, and as I tried to sort it all out, I closed my eyes for just a moment.

A faint dizziness washed over me, and for a heartbeat I wondered if I was drifting into simple exhaustion—or something else.

Suddenly, I was standing on a small patch of dirt in the middle of a vast, clear-blue expanse. The ground reflected the sky, which in turn seemed to mirror the land itself. When I glanced straight down, I saw a woman gazing up at me—her eyes a deep, polished blue; her skin smooth; and her golden hair as though it had captured the sun. Her nose was perfectly aligned, and a gentle smile curved her lips. Something about her felt so familiar, it was maddening.

"Who are you?" I asked, not even realizing I'd spoken aloud.

Her mouth moved, but I heard no sound.

I tried to ask again, but when I lifted my hand, she lifted hers in perfect unison. Such a small, synchronized motion held my full attention. Slowly, I knelt, extending my right hand toward her. She did the same.

"Who are you?" I repeated.

Once more, her mouth moved while I was still speaking. Confusion etched itself across my face—across hers too. My fingertip hovered a hair's breadth away. Then I pushed forward, only for my hand to pass right through the ground—and through her.

I stood, staring down at my hand in bewilderment. Water dripped off my fingers, which now appeared almost... feminine. That made no sense; I was a man. I looked up at the figure. Wait—wasn't she a woman? Why had I assumed she was a reflection?

She watched me, and I watched her. I spread my arms wide, and she did the same. Leaning forward, determined to see every detail, I kept my eyes open as my face neared hers. The moment we collided, I tumbled through her and landed back on the island of dirt.

Now the same woman stared at me from within the reflection, encircled by a whitish flame—or was it me who was surrounded by fire? It was hard to tell. Either way, the flame inched closer.

"I'm you," a motherly, gentle voice murmured, and as she spoke, her mouth and mine moved in tandem. "And I am you." This time, the words came in my own voice. The flames advanced on her and overtook her, yet there was no pain or sadness in her expression. She looked almost pleased. When she spoke again, I didn't echo her:

"I'm glad I was able to continue the rebirth. Live well, knowing I'll always be with you."

I blinked, and suddenly she wasn't just a reflection—she stood right in front of me. A tear welled in my eye, but she lifted her hand and wiped it away, passing the fire onto me. It didn't burn; instead, a rush of warmth and gentle tingling spread through my skin, as if mending old wounds from within. I felt it soothe not just physical aches but memories too, as though it wanted to replace them with something new. She wrapped her arms around me in an embrace, and I felt safe.

"Wake up!" A loud bang on my cell door tore me from the dream and back to reality.

For a fleeting moment, my heart pounded as though I were falling, and the echo of the woman's voice lingered in my ears. I fought to steady my breathing, uncertain if I was truly awake—or if I'd left part of myself behind in that dream.

I glanced at the door, spotting the same guard as always. This time, he carried a plate of food that looked more substantial than my usual morning gruel. A bowl containing four eggs, some kind of white grain, and an assortment of root vegetables.

"Eat now. I'll be by soon to take you to the arena," he said, setting the food on the floor. Then he moved to the end of the hall and waited by the door.

I did as instructed and ate greedily, feeling as if I hadn't eaten in ages. I tried to revisit my dream in my mind, but with every passing second, the details faded further, leaving me only with a vague sense that it had been comforting.

After finishing my meal and drinking some water to wash it down, the guard led me to the arena's training area.