The Endless Dream

The woods around me felt stifling, their shadows alive and whispering words I couldn't understand. My body was heavy; each step a fight, every breath a curse. The oak tree where I finally collapsed seemed to wrap itself around me, its roots weaving into my flesh. I closed my eyes and just let the darkness take me.

But the darkness was not an end-it was a beginning.

I was awake, I thought, the warm sun on my skin, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. I was walking through a meadow-a place that somehow felt both familiar and alien. Birds sang in the distance, their melodies so pure they made my chest ache.

And then I saw her-my mother. She stood beside a stream, leaning down to scoop her cupped hands and drink the water. Her hair sparkled like silver in the light of the sun.

"Mother!" my voice caught with desperation as I called out.

She faced me then and smiled, but her eyes. not her eyes. Empty, bottomless pits reflecting back at me my own countenance.

"Kael," she said, the words layered into a whisper. "Why did you let me burn?"

The meadow faded, replaced by the inside of a small hut. I sat at a table, carving a piece of wood into the shape of a bird. A child's laughter filled the room.

"Papa, look!" a small girl said, holding up a poorly carved animal.

I smiled at her, my heart full. "You'll get better," I said. "One day, you'll carve better than me."

The door burst open. Men stormed in, swords gleaming, their faces twisted with rage. The girl screamed, and I moved to shield her.

Steel bit into my back, and I fell, blood pooling beneath me. My daughter's screams were the last thing I heard.

I came back to consciousness in another body.

A merchant haggling over spices in a bustling marketplace.

A hunter tracking prey through a snow-covered forest.

A thief running down narrow alleys with gold in my hands.

With each life, I died. Stabbed. Shot. Starved. Drowned.

Each death was a weight, a hurt that lingered long after I had slithered into another form. The faces of the people I loved and lost all swirled together until no distinction lay among them.

"What is this?" I whispered into the void. "Why am I here?"

"You are here because you must be," a voice said, echoing from the shadows of my mind.

"Must be? For what?"

"To understand."

"Understand what?" I demanded.

The voice didn't answer. Instead, it hurled me into another life.

This time, I was a king. My throne was cold, my crown heavy. Before me, a line of prisoners knelt, their heads bowed in fear.

"The traitors must be executed," my advisor whispered in my ear.

I nodded, raising my hand to give the order. The prisoners were dragged off, screaming, down the halls.

As I stood to leave, I caught my reflection in a mirror. It wasn't my face. It was the face of the raider who had killed my family, the man who had burned my home.

"No!" I screamed, slamming my fist into the mirror. The shards rained down around me, slicing into my skin.

"Do you see now?" the voice asked.

I dropped to my knees, the shattered lives of so many others whirling around me like a storm. Every face stared at me, accusing, pleading, hating.

"I'm not them," I whispered, clutching my head. "I'm not them!"

"But you are," the voice replied. "You are all of them. Every choice, every death, every sin—they are yours."

"No," I said, my voice hoarse. "This is just a dream. This isn't real."

That voice laughed then-a sound sending rills down my spine. "Does it matter, Kael? Reality and dreams are all the same. You cannot run from truth."

I tried to wake up, clawing at the edges of the dream, but the world refused to let me go. The lives went on, every one of them a thread within some endless web.

A child left to starve.

A mother who betrayed her own.

A warrior who sacrificed his friends for glory.

Each death added weight to my soul until I felt as though I would be crushed beneath it.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I screamed into the void.

"Because you must remember," the voice said.

I found myself back in the forest, the oak tree towering over me. Its roots were twisted into a shape I recognized—a symbol that had haunted my dreams. It glowed faintly, pulsating like a heartbeat.

"What is this?" I asked, reaching out to touch it.

The moment my fingers brushed the bark, fire erupted around me. The forest burned, the flames consuming everything in their path. I screamed, but the fire didn't touch me.

In the distance, I saw her-my mother, standing amidst the flames, her hollow eyes staring into mine.

"You must wake up, Kael," she said. "You must break the cycle."

The fire paled, and I was beyond it, alone in the dark once more. I could not say whether I was alive or dead, dreaming or awake. The lives I had seen were seared into my soul, their pain and suffering my own.

But one thing was clear: I couldn't escape. Not yet.

The voice returned, softer this time. "Do you see now, Kael? This is your curse. This is your truth."

"I don't want it," I said, my voice shaking.

"Then fight it," the voice whispered.

Thus I stood-torn, yet determined-against whatever was to come. The dream was nowhere near over.