the dream [6]

Lif opened his eyes to mist.

Not just any mist—this one shimmered faintly with strange colors, whispering like voices through the trees. The forest was impossibly still. No birdsong. No wind. Just soft, dreamlike light that glowed in shifting hues of blue, green, and violet. It felt like stepping into the breath of the world itself.

He blinked slowly, disoriented, and sat up. A dull ache rested in his chest. His hand instinctively brushed over the shape hidden inside his tunic—the sword. Cold, silent, deadly. The one he'd taken from the elven soldier.

He didn't draw it. He didn't need to. Its weight reminded him of everything.

The screams. His parents. The flames. the blood. The blood-soaked ground of a life that no longer existed.

Then—he heard it.

A woman's voice, soft and worn with age.

"Hello, child."

It echoed through the trees like a breeze that had learned to speak. It wasn't threatening. It was warm. Ancient. Sad.

"Who… who are you?" Lif called out, spinning around. "Where am I?"

"You died," the voice replied gently. "WHAT!?" Lif yelped, heart pounding like a war drum. A chuckle followed, warm and teasing. "I'm just kidding, little one," the voice said. "Would you like to walk with me?"

Lif hesitated. The mist shifted around him, glittering like stars had been stirred into the air. Then, cautiously, he stepped forward. And again. His boots made no sound.

Around him, strange creatures emerged.

A bird with translucent feathers and six lidless eyes soared overhead in complete silence.

A fox-like creature, its body carved from glowing bark, watched him from the underbrush.

An antelope walked past him, petal-like horns unfurling in slow motion, steam curling off its back.

"…Okay," Lif muttered. "This is definitely a dream."

But he walked on.

The Voice returned, now walking invisibly beside him.

"What's your name?" it asked.

"Lif Ellis."

"How old are you, child?"

"Twelve."

"How tall?"

"159 centimeters," he replied flatly.

A soft hum.

"Any siblings?"

Lif stopped.

He didn't answer right away. His eyes dropped to the misty ground.

"…No," he whispered.

"Are you close with your parents?"

His lips parted.

"…I was," he said. "We were."

A long pause followed. The voice seemed gentler now, slower.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said, but it wasn't.

They walked in silence after that, mist swirling like quiet memories.

Eventually, they arrived.

Lif's eyes widened in awe as he saw it—the tree.

Far taller than anything he'd ever seen. Its bark shimmered with silver veins that pulsed like a heartbeat. Its roots twisted deep into the earth, ancient and alive. Magical creatures surrounded it, resting in its shadow, but none touched it. They didn't dare.

Lif stared, eyes wide. "What… is this?"

"Just an old piece of wood," the voice replied with a smile in its tone.

But Lif could feel it. This tree was important. Sacred. More than that—it was alive.

He stepped forward. He was reaching to touch it—

Then

A cold breeze. Sharp and sudden.

He felt her before he saw her.

A presence so cold, so ancient, that even the light around them seemed to dim.

She walked beside him—tall, elegant, her feet seemed to not even touch the grass. Her robe flowed like liquid snow, woven with blue and silver threads that caught the light. Her long white hair trailed behind her, shifting like frost in the wind.

Lif looked up at her slowly.

Her face was distant at first—expressionless, cold and pale. Her very existence felt old, frozen.

But then she turned to him.

Their eyes met.

And suddenly, the cold faded.

Her lips curled gently into a soft smile. Warm. Loving. Pure. Like sunshine breaking through winter clouds.

Lif's chest tightened.

He didn't understand it but he felt it.

A strange, deep comfort. Like he'd always known her.

"I…" he began to say something—but the voice interrupted.

"LIF! Touch the tree!" it called out urgently.

He blinked, confused, but before he could move—

The woman stepped forward.

She turned her gaze to the tree.

And reached out.

Her hand touched the bark.

Frost erupted.

It wasn't violent—it was beautiful. Crystalline patterns raced over the bark like lightning turned to ice. Roots shimmered with frozen light. The air thickened. The magical creatures scattered.

Mist froze in the air like diamonds.

The ground cracked.

Lif stumbled backward. "Wait—what's happening?!"

The ice touched his boots. Spread over the soil. Crawled up his legs slowly.

But it didn't hurt.

It felt… right.

The cold wasn't cruel—it was warm? Familiar even.

The trees all around him froze in slow, spiraling webs of white and silver. The world itself seemed to stop.

His legs wouldn't move.

The ice rose to his chest.

Then—

She turned back to him.

That same loving smile still on her face. No malice. No fear.

She walked toward him slowly, gracefully, as though the frost obeyed her every step.

Her hand lifted.

She reached for his head—gently, as if to brush the hair from his brow.

Lif didn't flinch.

He just stood there, frozen in awe.

Her fingers were inches away.

And then—

He gasped.

His eyes snapped open.

The forest was gone.

Firelight flickered above him. Shadows danced on the trees. The smell of smoke and ash filled the air.

Rael sat nearby, quietly tending the flames.

Sela stirred beside him, already awake, watching.

"You okay?" she whispered.

Lif stared at the sky.

His heart was racing. The memory of that smile, that frost, still burned in his chest like a second heartbeat.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Just a weird dream."

But it didn't feel like one. Not at all.