CHAPTER 19 BETWEEN DREAMS AND AWAKENINGS

In the twilight of the second day, the world remained oblivious to Terry. Worry wove a thick fog around his loved ones, while he remained lost in an endless dream. In the confines of his cell, Zahori questioned the guard with fading hope, only to be met with a silence that weighed like a sentence. As the fourth day unfurled its blanket of stars, Terry plunged into a whirlwind of feverish dreams.

It was as if he slipped between the shadows of yesterday and the whispers of now, caught in a spectral dance with the silhouettes of Zahori and Nova. Intertwined visions of the two fused and faded before his eyes, in a back and forth of memories and desires. He saw himself, dressed in strange clothes, walking beside Zahori , only to see her disappear into the mist of the road. He ran after her, his heart pounding, but as soon as his fingers brushed hope, he found himself wrapped in Nova's arms. As if in a cruel game of fate, she too slipped out of his reach, leaving him in a perpetual race to reach her.

This dream, woven with threads of longing and confusion, was a mirror of his soul, reflecting the inner struggle and invisible ties that bound him to Zahori and Nova. In this dreamlike labyrinth, Terry searched for answers, for a path to follow, but all he found was the perpetual search for something just out of reach.

And so, trapped in that endless loop of dreams and nightmares, Terry sailed on until the veil of darkness was torn with a piercing scream. It was a scream that came from deep within him, a scream that carried with it the weight of a divided love, the echo of two names that were beacons in his personal storm. Zahori ... Nova... they echoed in the silence of the room, as if they were a spell capable of breaking the curse of his eternal sleep.

With that scream, Terry emerged from the depths of his nightmare, dragging with him the pain and sweetness of those intertwined memories. The room, bathed in the first glimmers of dawn, welcomed him back to reality, a reality where the echo of his scream still vibrated in the air.

Her eyes, now open, frantically searched for some solace in the tangible world, but all they found was the emptiness of her room. Still, this awakening was a rebirth, a promise whispered between the lines of reality and dream, that though love may be divided, it never truly fades.

Terry, still panting, now understood that his heart had been the battlefield of two equally intense, but different, loves. And although the pain of the choice still throbbed within him, the clarity of dawn offered him a new perspective. Perhaps, in that liberating cry, he had found not only the way back to wakefulness, but also the first clue to reconciling the fragments of his lost mind and heart.

The scream that had pierced the silence of the early morning had not only served as a bridge between the world of dreams and that of waking life for Terry, but had also served as an alarm signal for Elara . The young woman, driven by a protective instinct, was quick to enter the room, guided by concern for her father's well-being.

There she found him, a reflection of torment and despair, his hands clutching his head as if trying to contain an unbearable pain, a pain that seemed to split his being in two. —Father,— Elara whispered , her voice as much a call to order as a balm for the soul. Gently, but firmly, she took her father's hands and gently lowered them, guiding him to lie down. Concern colored her every movement as she sought to ease the suffering she saw reflected in Terry's eyes.

Without wasting a moment, Elara made her way to a water fountain where a cloth rested, prepared for times of need such as this. Carefully, she wrung out the cloth and placed it on her father's forehead, hoping the coolness of the water would work its magic. And so it did, upon contact with the cold cloth, Terry felt a first breath of relief, a small but significant victory against the pain that threatened to consume him.

Elara 's presence and care was a beacon of hope in the storm Terry had been navigating. In that gesture of tenderness, in the simple action of placing a cool cloth on his forehead, lay all of a daughter's love and concern for her father. That moment, though small in the immensity of everything that had occurred, was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, love and compassion could find a way to shine through the darkness.

—You're finally awake, Father,— Elara said , her voice a balm to Terry's troubled soul. —We were so worried about you.

Terry tried to sit up, the weight of his body feeling like he was passing through the gravity of an unknown planet. —How many days was I unconscious?— he asked, his voice barely a thread in the vast silence of the room.

Elara replied , approaching his side with a mixture of concern and motherly care. —¿Were you able to remember your past, Father?

—Yes , not completely, but I hope that, as the days go by, my memories will settle well— Terry paused, his gaze lost in some distant point, perhaps in memories of faraway galaxies —Where are Zahori and Ashtar?

They're still in the cell. We didn't know what to do if you didn't wake up. We were going to ask them if they could do something— Elara confessed, as a hug and a kiss on the cheek sealed her relief. A tear of relief slid down her cheek, a testament to the whirlwind of emotions she had faced.

Elara 's hand —I want you to do me a favor—

—Tell me, father,— Elara replied , her gaze fixed on her father's, searching in his eyes for the reflection of the stars that she had seen so many times in those bright, sparkling eyes.

—I want you to take those two people and put them in a room. Get them out of the cell. They are my family and I cannot accept that they are treated like prisoners.

—Alright , Father. I will give the order for it to be carried out— Elara said , her voice firm and determined. She stood up and left the room, her determination cutting through the cold early morning air.

Later, in front of the cell where Zahori and Ashtar waited, Elara shared the news of her father's awakening and her will to change his fate. —My father has already awakened and ordered me to give you this and accommodate you in a more comfortable room,— she informed, handing over clean clothes and ensuring their transfer to a place where comfort and dignity would be restored to them.

Zahori said , his voice filled with deep gratitude as he received the clothes.

—I hope you can sleep well. There are two beds so you can sleep comfortably,— Elara concluded before leaving them in their new home, a small oasis of peace in the vastness of the Zalara Desert .

Night had settled over the planet Zalara like a blanket of stars, enveloping every corner in a cosmic silence.

In their new quarters, Zahori and Ashtar were reflecting on recent events, the air heavy with uncertainty, but also a glimmer of hope.

—At least he's awake now, — Ashtar commented, his voice echoing with palpable relief in the dimly lit room. —And it seems he remembers now, or at least we do.

The important thing is that he remembers. Tomorrow I will see if they will let us get close to him,— Zahori added, his tone cautious but filled with firm determination. He was aware of the ironclad loyalty that the Saharim clan and those close to Terry professed, an unbreakable bond that extended beyond simple camaraderie.

—Be careful,— Ashtar warned, his gaze serious. —These men and women, not counting his family here, are loyal to Terry in every way. They would give their lives for him.—

—Yes, I noticed that detail,— Zahori replied , his mind analyzing the complexities of the social dynamics that were woven around Terry.

Ashtar, driven by a curiosity that often led him to explore delicate emotional terrain, could not help but voice his next thought. —I would have liked to know about the mother of Terry's children. She seems to be missing; no one talks about her. Perhaps she has gone away and left them.—

—You can ask Terry himself when we go see him tomorrow,— Zahori replied , his tone tinged with annoyance. His patience with Ashtar's reckless speculation had its limits, and that comment had crossed the line.

Ashtar sensed the shift in the air, the subtle but unmistakable tension his question had generated. He opted for silence, acknowledging he had said too much. Curiosity, while a valuable tool in the vast universe, could also be a double-edged sword, especially when it meddled in the personal affairs of others.

In the silence that followed, they both gazed out the window at the starry night, the distant stars offering a perspective that somehow made their own problems and curiosities seem small. The night wore on, and with it, the promise of an uncertain tomorrow, but inevitably filled with answers.