Chapter 2: The Dream That Wouldn't Fade
The fire was dying. Its embers glowed faintly in the hearth, like the last breaths of a weary soul. Elior curled tighter beneath his blanket, though the cold wasn't what kept him awake.
It was the dream.
It always began the same way.
A forest shrouded in silver mist. A river flowing backward, carrying stars in its current instead of water. And beyond, voices—soft, broken, yet achingly familiar.
"Elior…"
He spun in the dream, searching for faces. Shadows stretched before him, their hands reaching out, their eyes hidden in the fog. His chest ached as if he should know them, as if he had once clung to them.
"Don't forget us…"
The words sent a shiver through his bones. Every time, the dream ended with him running—toward them, toward the voices—and every time, the mist swallowed him whole.
Elior jolted awake, his breath ragged, tears streaking down his face. His fists tightened around the blanket. He hated the tears. He hated that he woke with the echo of loss for people he couldn't even remember.
The whispers of the dream clung to him even as morning broke.
---
At school, the laughter of his classmates was sharper than usual, their insults louder, though maybe it was just that Elior's mind was raw from lack of sleep.
"Still alive, ghost-boy?" one of them sneered as Elior passed.
"Careful. He'll vanish if you touch him too hard," another mocked.
Their laughter rolled through the courtyard.
Elior bit his tongue and pushed forward. He could endure their words—he always had. But today, the dream had left him frayed, each insult cutting deeper than he wanted to admit.
"Elior."
Kael's voice broke through the noise. He was leaning against the courtyard wall, arms crossed, eyes sharp. "Ignore them."
Elior shook his head, forcing a thin smile. "I'm used to it."
"That's the problem," Kael said, walking beside him. "You shouldn't have to be."
Before Elior could answer, another voice called out.
"Elior!"
He turned, and his chest eased when he saw Liora weaving through the crowd. Her golden braid caught the sunlight, her presence as steady as the morning itself. She reached him, slipping her hand into his without hesitation, as if daring anyone to laugh now.
Her touch was warm. Her eyes searched his face. "Another nightmare?"
Elior swallowed hard. He wanted to deny it, but Liora always saw through him.
"They're always the same," he admitted quietly. "Voices… calling me. I can never reach them."
Liora's brow furrowed with worry. "Maybe it's your parents."
The word hit like an arrow. Parents. He barely understood what the word felt like.
Before he could reply, the bell rang, scattering students into the schoolhouse. But even as he took his seat beside Liora and Kael, the dream weighed on him like a shadow refusing to lift.
---
That night, Elior couldn't bear the silence of the cottage. He slipped out after his uncle had gone to bed, wandering into the edge of the forest.
The moon was high, pale and watchful. The branches above knotted together like dark veins, whispering as the wind pushed through them. He closed his eyes, breathing in the night.
The dream returned—not asleep this time, but in the sway of the trees, in the hum of the wind.
"Elior…"
He opened his eyes. For a heartbeat, he thought he saw a figure standing deeper in the woods—a faint light shaped like a woman, her face blurred but beckoning.
His heart thundered. He stepped forward. One step. Another.
But then a hand seized his shoulder.
"Elior."
He spun to find his uncle, lantern in hand, face grave. "What are you doing here?"
Elior stammered, pointing into the forest. "I… I saw someone. She was—"
"There is nothing out there," his uncle cut him off, voice sharp. "Only danger. Only things you are not ready to face."
Anger surged in Elior's chest, stronger than fear. "Then tell me the truth! Stop treating me like a child. Who were they? Why do I dream of voices I don't remember?"
His uncle's expression tightened, shadows deepening across his face. For a moment, Elior thought he saw something in his eyes—a crack in the stone, a grief unspoken. But then it was gone.
"You are not ready," his uncle said coldly. "And that is the end of it."
He turned, lantern light swaying, walking back toward the house.
Elior stood frozen at the edge of the trees, his fists trembling. The whispers seemed to echo all around him now, louder, insistent.
"Don't forget us…"
He clenched his jaw, heart hammering. If his uncle would not give him the truth, then he would find it himself.
Even if it meant stepping into the realm of spirits.