Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Dream of Fülane's Memory Part One

All Souls Dorm, 2009

As night enveloped the All Souls Dorm, the soft glow of moonlight filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room. Lauren lay nestled under her warm blankets, her breathing steady and rhythmic, lost in the depths of sleep.

In the stillness of the night, the familiar sensation washed over her—a memory dream, vivid and haunting. She found herself standing in a lush, sun-drenched meadow, the scent of wildflowers filling the air. The sky above was a brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds that drifted lazily by. It felt like a scene from another time, a fragment of her past that had been tucked away, waiting to resurface.

And there, across the meadow, stood Fülane. His silhouette was framed by the vibrant colors of the landscape, making him appear almost ethereal. Lauren's heart raced as she took in his familiar features—the way his hair caught the sunlight and the warmth of his smile, which seemed to radiate even more brightly.

Then she gets deeper into the dream, lazily drifting by. It felt like a scene from another time, a fragment of her past that had been tucked away, waiting to resurface.

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Sogut, 1285

Fülane strolled through the village, her senses alive with the vibrant colors of the landscape around her.

The sun cast a golden hue over the market stalls, where fresh produce and fragrant spices beckoned her closer. She admired the vivid reds of ripe tomatoes, the deep greens of crisp lettuce, and the sunny yellows of ripe lemons stacked high, creating a feast for the eyes.

As she wandered from one stall to another, she felt a sense of nostalgia wash over her, reminiscent of stories told in her childhood about simpler times.

The villagers greeted her with warm smiles, their laughter mingling with the sounds of haggling and the occasional clink of coins. Each interaction felt like a thread weaving her deeper into the fabric of the community.

Fülane paused at a stall bursting with colorful fruits, her fingers brushing against the soft skin of peaches and plums. The sweet aroma filled her senses, and she decided to buy a few, imagining the delicious treats she could prepare later.

As Fülane savored the moment, the atmosphere shifted. A group of thugs approached the stall, their demeanor starkly contrasting the warmth that had enveloped her moments before.

Their laughter was harsh, and the smiles on their faces were anything but friendly. The vibrant colors of the fruits and the cheerful chatter of other shoppers faded into the background as an unsettling tension filled the air.

Fülane's heart raced as she instinctively stepped back, clutching the peaches and plums tightly. The thugs surrounded the stall, their eyes scanning the area, demanding attention and respect. She could feel the weight of their presence, a clear indication of the dangers that lurked even in the most familiar places.

Then, one of the thugs stepped forward, his voice low and threatening. "Hand over your money," he demanded, glaring at the stall owner, who stood frozen in fear.

The air was thick with anticipation as the owner hesitated, caught between the instinct to protect his livelihood and the instinct for self-preservation. Fülane's grip on her fruit tightened further, her mind racing with thoughts of escape while the tension escalated around her.

The stall owner looked up, his eyes wide with panic. "I-I don't have any money," he stammered, his voice trembling.

The thug's expression darkened, and he took a menacing step closer. "What do you mean you don't have any money?" He growled, his tone dripping with menace. The owner glanced nervously at the fruit in Fülane's hands, desperate for a way out.

Fülane's heart raced as she weighed her options, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on her. She could sense the thug's impatience growing, and she knew they had to act fast before things escalated further.

The stall owner said he just paid his taxes and didn't have any money left.

"Look, I don't want any trouble," the stall owner stammered, trying to defuse the situation.

Fülane took a deep breath, her mind racing as she considered how to navigate this tense confrontation. She had to think quickly—either find a way to make the thug back off or find a way to help the stall owner without putting herself in danger.

The thug leaned in closer, a menacing grin spreading across his face. "Stop playing games with me, old man. Hand over the cash, or things are going to get ugly."

The stall owner's hands trembled as he glanced nervously at Fülane, who was silently weighing her options. She could see the fear in his eyes, and it urged her to take action.

"Hey," Fülane interjected, her voice steady despite the anxiety churning in her stomach. "Why don't we all just take a breath? This isn't necessary."

The thug shifted his attention to her, his expression darkening. "And who are you to tell me what's necessary?"

Fülane swallowed hard, knowing she needed to stand her ground. "I'm just saying that you don't want to make a scene. There are other ways to handle this."

The stall owner nodded fervently, desperate for Fülane's support. "I really think we can resolve this without further escalation. Let's just talk it out and find a compromise that works for everyone." She could feel the tension in the air, hoping her words would resonate and defuse the situation before it spiraled out of control.

Then the thug grabbed Fülane's arm, pulling her closer as he glared at her.

"Then I will take you instead," he growled, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Fülane's heart raced, but she stood her ground, refusing to show fear. "You're making a mistake," she said firmly, trying to project confidence despite the danger looming over her.

The thug smirked, clearly unfazed by her bravado. "Oh, I'm not making any mistakes," he replied, his voice low and menacing. "In fact, I was just about to have some fun with you."

He tightened his grip on her arm, and she felt a surge of panic, but she pushed it down, focusing instead on maintaining her composure.

"You think you're tough, but there's more to me than meets the eye," Fülane shot back, her voice steady as she searched for a way to turn the tide.

The thug's expression faltered for a brief moment, and she seized the opportunity to wriggle free from his grasp. "You don't want to do this," she added, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins.

Then, a man behind the thug said, "I would let the lady go if I were you."

The thug's eyes darted to the newcomer, uncertainty creeping into his demeanor. "And who are you to give me orders?" He growled, but Fülane could sense the shift in the air—the balance of power was beginning to tilt in her favor.

The man stepped forward, confidence radiating from him, and said, "I'm the guy who's going to kick your butt and those of your friends if you don't back off." The thug hesitated, glancing between the man and Fülane, his bravado waning. She could see the moment he realized he was outmatched.

Then the thug regained his confidence and told his boys to teach the man a lesson. "You think you're tough?" he sneered, trying to reclaim his bravado. "Show him what happens when you mess with us!"

The air crackled with tension as the thug's friends moved in, but Fülane could feel the shift; her instinct told her the man was ready for whatever came next.

The man stood firm, a determined look on his face, and prepared to defend himself against the approaching threat.

The thugs lunged forward, their intentions clear as they surrounded the man.