Zake stared at his shimmering palm as he held it beneath the warm rays of the afternoon sun. He lay beneath the shade of a large tree, his loyal dog resting quietly beside him.
For as long as he could remember, Zake had wandered the streets alone.
He couldn't recall who he really was.
He didn't even know how he had ended up living this way.
Suddenly, his stomach growled.
"I'm starving..." he muttered.
People often offered him food out of pity, but none of it ever appealed to him.
His body craved something else.
Sometimes, whenever his eyes drifted to the necks of people passing by, he found himself swallowing unconsciously, overwhelmed by an urge he couldn't understand.
He slowly closed his eyes.
What is happening to me?.
.
.
....
At the bar...
"Thank you very much," Blake said with a bright smile.
He counted the money the bar manager had just handed him.
"Finally... I can buy that guitar."
Tucking the money safely into his pocket, he left the bar.
It was morning and the bar was still closed, he just went there to get his salary.
Blake performed there every night. It was how he earned enough to support himself.
"You're an incredible musician, young man."
Blake stopped walking and turned toward the voice.
An elderly man was smiling warmly at him.
"T-Thank you, sir," Blake replied shyly, scratching the back of his head.
"You know," the old man continued, "listening to you reminds me of a famous band from my younger days. They were every bit as talented as you."
Blake simply smiled politely before continuing on his way.
Yet...
The old man's words awakened something buried deep inside his mind.
That dream again.
In it, he always found himself watching a band performing inside a crowded bar.
He shook his head.
"Come on, Blake... just forget about it," he whispered to himself.
.
.
.....
"Alright, bro. I'm heading home first," Tomas said.
Xylon nodded.
A few minutes after Tomas left, Xylon stepped out of the classroom.
To his surprise, Stephen was waiting outside.
"Hi," Xylon greeted.
Stephen handed him a thick, worn-out book. "Here. It's about dreams. I completely forgot I had it until I found it last night."
A smile spread across Xylon's face. "Thanks."
The two walked together across the campus.
.
They sat down on a bench beneath the shade of a tree.
Xylon opened the book and flipped through its aged pages.
"The things written here are surprisingly profound," he remarked.
Stephen nodded.
"According to that book, every dream has a meaning. If you keep having the same dream over and over again, it usually means it's trying to tell you something."
Xylon stopped at one page and began reading aloud.
"When a dream repeats itself, it generally has two possible meanings. Either it is a memory of something that has already happened... or a glimpse of something that has yet to occur," his eyes moved to the next sentence. "It may also be a memory from one's previous life."
"A previous life?" Xylon murmured.
Stephen looked at him. "Do you believe in reincarnation? The idea that after death, a person can be reborn into another life... another world... another identity?"
Xylon fell silent.
"I don't know if I believe in things like that," he gently closed the book.
"You know..." Stephen said quietly. "We're actually the same."
Xylon looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"I've been having the same recurring dream too," Stephen revealed.
"Really? What kind of dream?" Xylon asked.
"It's about alchemy... and a palace," Stephen answered.
Xylon's eyes widened. "A palace? Mine has a palace too."
Stephen hesitated before speaking again. "Would you believe me if I told you... I saw you in my dream?"
Xylon stared at him in disbelief. "Seriously?"
"I don't know why you were there," Stephen replied. "But everyone at the banquet bowed whenever they saw you. Honestly... it was kind of annoying to watch."
Xylon awkwardly scratched his head. "That's exactly what happens in my dream too."
He paused. "Do you think... we're connected somehow?"
"You mean... we've known each other for a long time?" Stephen asked.
"I don't know," Xylon said in confusion.
Stephen lowered his gaze. "I want to find the answer."
"But how are we supposed to do that?" Xylon asked.
Stephen had no response.
He wanted answers just as badly.
But he had no idea where to begin.
.
.
.....
Zander sighed.
"Why are we even fighting each other?" he complained.
He and Heberlin were now sitting on a bench in the park.
"Search me," Heberlin replied as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
Both of them were covered in bruises, cuts, and torn clothes after their brutal fight.
Yet...
Neither of them felt any pain.
"Isn't that weird?" Heberlin said. "You beat me half to death, but I don't feel a thing."
"Same here," Zander answered. "It's seriously creepy."
Heberlin frowned. "And another thing... why are we sitting here together and actually having a conversation?"
Zander shrugged. "How should I know? You're the one who followed me here."
"Bullshit. I was already planning to come here," Heberlin said.
Zander sighed. "What the hell is happening to us?"
Neither of them had an answer.
.
.
Xenon sat quietly in the back seat of his car as it drove through the city.
He absentmindedly watched the people walking through the park outside his window.
Then his eyes landed on two men sitting together on a bench.
His heart suddenly skipped a beat.
"Stop the car!" he ordered.
The driver immediately hit the brakes.
As soon as the car stopped, Xenon lowered the window and stared at the two strangers.
They looked...
Familiar.
As if he had met them before.
As if they had once been an important part of his life.
But no matter how hard he searched his memories...
He couldn't remember where.
"Sir... is something wrong?" the driver asked nervously.
"N-No..." Xenon slowly leaned back into his seat. "Let's go."
The car pulled away.
Xenon let out a long, troubled sigh.
What... is happening to me?