The king swung his sharp sword with brute force, cleaving through the beasts that surrounded him. They were multiple times larger than a human body and could grow as big as fully grown chaste trees. He gasped for breath, his strength waning, yet he fought on, determined to slay the hundreds of beasts eager to devour him. Though he had slain hundreds of the beasts, they kept returning, resurrected time and again.
"Impossible."
He silently wondered and asked himself why they were immortal, like him. In this world, he was the only immortal being that ever existed. He had never felt this fear before. It was as if he were protecting someone of immense importance, someone he couldn't bear to abandon, preventing him from lowering his sword and leaving that place. Someone was behind him, and desperately, he was doing his best to protect whoever was behind him. It seemed that his memories had faded, leaving only the awareness of being deep within a dark forest, slaughtering cold-blooded beasts under the cold night sky.
He fought the urge to turn and look at the person behind him, but the temptation proved too strong, and he lowered his guard. Slowly, he turned to see a woman standing behind him. Oddly, her face was blurred, and no matter how he tried to clear his vision, the blurriness persisted. She seemed to be shouting and crying, but he couldn't hear anything; none of his senses were functioning. Then, a second later, he felt the beast's fangs sink deep into his chest.
He slashed his sword again, attempting to retaliate, but he stopped when he felt something flowing from the wound where the beast's blade-like fangs were buried. His eyes widened in surprise as blood flowed down his chest. Impossible, he was immortal; immortals don't bleed. Frozen by the realization that he was bleeding and injured, he was knocked to the ground, bathing in his own blood as the beast attacked again... And again. His deep emerald eyes wide open, feeling the pain and fear in his body, looking straight at the woman he couldn't even clearly see or understand. The blurriness in his vision lingered, and he was deafened by the loud beat of his heart. His body was heavy; he couldn't move anymore, even if he refused to die, this night would be the end of his life.
"This is not right... This is not right. I can't die... I'm an immortal. I can't die..." He managed to use his remaining strength to say these words. He couldn't even hear his own words. The chilling cold air mixed with despair as he mourned his tragic defeat.
"Lysander! Wake up! Lysander!"
King Lysander opened his eyes, clutching his chest. He breathed deeply and rapidly, his face slick with sweat. His white, unbuttoned long sleeves were soaked in his sweat. Sweat dripped from his neck down to his abdomen.
His mother, Queen Riona, held his hand. "Did you have that bad dream again?"
The youthful face of the queen was painted with worry as she sat on his son's bed beside him. She was in her white sleeping gown, and her honey-colored straight hair fell down her waist. She didn't have any accessories on, yet she glimmered and shone as the light of the lamp touched her skin.
Her calm voice did not calm him even slightly. She examined her son's face with her deep turquoise eyes, and she knew he was in fear. He had been plagued by the nightmare for a long time, and it always left him with a distinct sense of fear and unease, even after realizing it was just a bad dream. He had never known fear before, but this nightmare had taught him that.
"I finally found an Oracle who can help us understand the meaning of your nightmare. This might be the key to eradicating those beasts that infest our world."
Lysander had nothing to say, and even if he did have something to say, he did not have the courage to open his mouth and say a word. His hands were still trembling. He was still feeling the beast's fangs tearing into his chest, as if it had really happened. He had never known pain before, and he couldn't believe he had experienced it in his dream. Now he knew how it felt to die. His handsome face was pale and weary, his textured, slicked-back hair messy and damp with sweat. His beautiful hazel eyes looked tired and troubled. The repetitive nightmare had changed him over the past few days.
"I'll go to bed now. Drink some water, son. We'll find a way to keep that nightmare from ever bothering you again." The queen said, pointing to the glass of water on the small wooden table beside his bed.
The queen embraced her son softly before leaving his room, hoping to offer him some comfort. He had become king when his father, King Lysander II, was killed by a beast right after he was born, at least that's what he knew and what his mother told him. Lysander carried a heavy burden; at a young age, he became the king of his world, never experiencing happiness, seeing only the suffering of his world. It had been two decades and a year since his father's death, and his world had been infested by beasts, disguising themselves as humans, devouring anyone in sight after the sun went down.
Lysander Dreyar III was the king of this dark world called Zion. Once, it had been a beautiful, magnificent fortress where people lived in peace. There were no bloodthirsty beasts bringing apocalypse, no crying, no loss, no pain—only happiness lingered in the air, not the tainted smell of innocent blood. But Lysander had never witnessed this beauty; it was just a rumor to him. He had never seen the sun show up in the sky; it was always covered by thick clouds, filling the day with darkness.
But here's what Lysander never knew.
The late King Lysander II had been obsessed with magic. Despite ruling a world with potent magic, he sought what it lacked: never-ending power, infinite life. He wandered into the dark continent to find the dark forest, seeking the powerful sorceress rumored to dwell there, hoping she would grant his desire. He found her, but the sorceress refused, warning that the consequences far outweighed the benefits of his ambition. Instead of leaving the dark forest, the king was angered, and he killed the sorceress's daughter and burned down the dark forest. Enraged as she mourned her daughter's loss, the sorceress granted the king's wish. She cursed the king's unborn child to never see the world in brightness and to live with darkness forever. That night, the wish of the king became a curse instead. And in that night, the once-bright sky of Zion was shrouded in darkness, and the beasts began their reign of terror.