Dream

 Benjamin's eyes fluttered open.

He was still under the massive apple tree. Its thick branches stretched out above him, casting a cool shade over his body like a protective blanket. The sunlight was low and golden, gently painting the world as the sun dipped toward the horizon. It felt like only a second had passed since he closed his eyes, but his body felt strangely refreshed—like he'd been asleep for hours.

For a moment, everything felt peaceful. Familiar.

Then he noticed something was wrong.

Samuel—the boy—had been in the tree just moments ago. But now… he was gone. No sound. No trace. Benjamin quickly scanned the orchard, but everything looked the same. Everything, except the boy's absence.

His gaze drifted to the distance, where the dark silhouette of Centarious Castle loomed. The Blood Keep. Its towers shimmered faintly with blue and golden mana crystals. Beneath them, huge, jagged spikes rose from the earth—black and crimson thorns, covered in mist. They were the reason the castle earned its infamous name. Thousands—barbarians and soldiers—had died impaled on those bloody thorns during the reign of the first vampire king.

Yet even with all its horrors, the castle was beautiful. The most hauntingly beautiful thing Benjamin had ever seen.

One word filled his mind: Home.

He tried to hold onto that memory, to picture the castle the way he remembered it. But as he did, a sharp pain shot through his head. His vision blurred, and he stumbled.

Rubbing his forehead, he slowly stood up. The world shook around him for a moment. Then—complete blindness.

Just for a second.

And in that brief moment, Benjamin felt it—something shifting beneath reality itself. A ripple. Something he'd never experienced before, not even as a Rift Walker—someone who could bend space to his will.

Samuel.

The thought came back. Where had the boy gone?

Hadn't he already searched the tree?

Why couldn't he remember?

Is someone attacking me?

Magic? No… not normal Binders or even Variants could do this. Not even a Mind Walker could mess with my thoughts like this.

Benjamin's confusion deepened. He instinctively reached for his sword.

His hand closed around the hilt.

But that didn't make sense.

He hadn't brought a sword. He remembered clearly—he'd gone for a walk with a ten-year-old boy. No weapons.

Then… how did a sword end up in his lap?

That thought sent a chill down his spine.

Am I dreaming?

The illusion, the missing memories, the impossible sword… It all made sense now.

Still, something about it didn't feel right. Most dreams faded. This one was too real.

Benjamin stepped out from under the tree's shade.

The world changed instantly.

The ground trembled. Reality warped.

In a blink, he was standing in a land consumed by fire. Everything—fields, sky, distant hills—was burning. Flames danced like spirits, roared like beasts. The fire should have scorched him, but he felt no heat.

Only fear.

The apple tree still stood—burning, yet untouched at its core.

Benjamin couldn't make sense of it.

This isn't Blood Keep. This isn't Old Celesto.

Was this really a dream?

He tried to steady his breathing, to calm his racing thoughts. And just as he began to ground himself—

The world shifted again.

Another quake beneath his feet. Another moment of blindness.

Now he stood in an icy valley.

Mountains of frozen stone towered around him. Snow drifted lazily through the air.

He recognized this place.

The North. The land of the Ice Elves.

In the heart of it all was the apple tree—still there, somehow. As if nothing could erase it.

Then, another quake.

Another blink.

Now, he was standing in a town.

His legs trembled. His heart pounded.

This must be a dream…

But how can I tell? If I know it's a dream…, shouldn't I wake up?

No.

This wasn't his dream.

Something else was happening.

Then he heard it.

A scream.

Sharp. Piercing. A child's scream.

He turned, his body moving before his mind could catch up.

The world blurred as he ran.

And then he saw her.

A young ice elf knelt in the ruins, her silver hair messy and soaked with tears. She clutched the bodies of three others. Ash-blue skin. Lifeless eyes.

"Please," she whispered, her voice broken. "Please… help them."

"I swear they didn't steal anything… they didn't… so please…"

She sobbed, gripping their clothes like she could pull them back to life.

Benjamin's throat tightened.

She reminded him of Michael.

Helpless. Innocent. Begging.

"They're already gone," he said softly.

The girl looked up.

And something in her changed.

Her sorrow twisted into something ancient.

The flames around her brightened.

Her golden eyes burned.

"They are not the only ones," she said. Her voice echoed, layered with thousands of others. "You must save them all."

Then she collapsed, clinging to his legs.

"You're the only one who can… so please…"

Benjamin knelt, reaching for her.

But the world shook again.

The sky darkened. The ground groaned and cracked.

Then—

"Ben…"

The voice struck like lightning.

He turned.

Figures stood beyond the flames—ghostly soldiers in shattered armor.

Among them, one stepped forward.

William.

His brother.

Half of his face was burned. The other, frozen in agony. Blood leaked from wounds that would never heal.

"Please…" William whispered. "Save us, Ben."

Benjamin stumbled forward.

The girl was gone.

"William…"

The ground beneath his brother split open. Darkness slithered up, wrapping around William's legs.

"No!" Benjamin reached for him. "Tell me what to do! Tell me how to stop this!"

William opened his mouth.

But before he could speak—

The sky tore apart.

A shadow fell from the stars.

A dragon.

Its wings spread wide, blocking the heavens. Its golden eyes pierced through the smoke.

It roared.

A divine roar that shattered everything.

Flames swallowed the world.

The soldiers turned to ash, one by one.

Even William.

But before he vanished, his voice reached through the fire:

"Even gods can die, Ben…"

…

"Uncle! Uncle, wake up!"

A voice—small and urgent—dragged him from the depths.

Benjamin's eyes blinked open. His mind floated between two worlds. Dream and orchard. Fire and memory.

Was it all just a dream?

His fingers brushed his cheeks. They were wet.

He had been crying.