Chapter 4: The Earth’s Voice

The dream came without warning, pulling me under like a riptide. One moment, I was lying in my bed, staring at the cracked ceiling of my small apartment, the faint hum of the city outside my window. The next, I was standing on a vast, desolate plain, the sky above me a swirling mass of black and red, like a storm frozen in time.

The ground beneath my feet was cracked and barren, the air thick with the scent of ash and decay. I turned in a slow circle, my heart pounding in my chest, though I knew this wasn't real. It couldn't be. And yet, it felt more real than anything I'd experienced in centuries.

"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice swallowed by the emptiness around me.

There was no answer, only the wind, carrying with it the faint sound of whispers—voices I couldn't quite make out, words I couldn't understand. I took a step forward, the ground crunching beneath my boots, and felt a strange warmth beneath my feet. The cracks in the earth began to glow faintly, a soft, golden light that spread outward like veins.

I knelt, brushing my fingers over the ground, and felt a faint vibration, like a heartbeat. The light grew brighter, and the air around me began to shift, the whispers growing louder, more urgent. I closed my eyes, trying to block it out, but the sound was inside my head, echoing in my mind like a thousand voices speaking at once.

"Stop," I whispered, clutching my head. "Please, stop."

The voices didn't stop. They grew louder, more insistent, until I could feel them in my bones, a low, steady thrum that seemed to echo through the very fabric of my being. And then, suddenly, they stopped.

The silence was deafening.

I opened my eyes and found myself standing in a field of flowers, the sky above me a brilliant blue, the air filled with the scent of blooming roses and fresh rain. The ground beneath my feet was soft, the grass swaying gently in the breeze. It was beautiful, peaceful, but there was something… off about it. Something that made my skin prickle with unease.

"Aurelia."

The voice was deep and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder. I turned, but there was no one there. Only the wind, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and rain.

"Who's there?" I called, my voice trembling.

"You are the key," the voice said, its tone calm, almost gentle. "The bridge between what was and what will be."

I shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest. "I don't understand."

"You will," the voice replied. "In time."

I took a step forward, my gaze sweeping over the field. "What do you want from me?"

There was a pause, and then the voice spoke again, its tone softer now, almost… sad. "I want you to remember."

"Remember what?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Who you are," the voice replied. "What you are."

I felt a surge of frustration, my hands curling into fists at my sides. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The voice didn't respond, but I felt a sudden warmth spread through me, like sunlight breaking through the clouds. The ground beneath my feet began to glow, the light spreading outward, enveloping me in its warmth. I closed my eyes, letting it wash over me, and felt a strange sense of… relief. Like a weight I hadn't even realized I was carrying had been lifted.

And then, I remembered.

The memories came in flashes, disjointed and fragmented, like pieces of a puzzle I had long since forgotten. I saw myself standing on a battlefield, the sky above me filled with fire and smoke, the ground beneath my feet littered with the bodies of the fallen. I saw myself kneeling before a throne, a crown of thorns pressed into my brow, my hands stained with blood. I saw myself standing on the edge of a cliff, the wind whipping through my hair, the sea below me churning with fury.

And then, I saw myself… fading. My power, my essence, being ripped away from me, leaving me hollow, empty.

I gasped, my eyes snapping open, and found myself back in my apartment, the faint hum of the city outside my window. I was lying in my bed, my heart pounding in my chest, my skin slick with sweat.

I sat up, my hands trembling, and looked down at them. They looked the same as they always had—pale, unmarked, ordinary. But I could feel it now, the power that had been stolen from me, the essence that had been ripped away. It was still there, buried deep within me, waiting to be awakened.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart, and felt a strange sense of… calm. The dream had been unsettling, yes, but it had also given me something I hadn't realized I was missing. Clarity. Purpose.

I was the key. The bridge between what was and what will be.

And I was ready to remember.