The days in Vyranth passed slowly, like water moving over stones. Chyren continued his daily chores, but his heart was no longer in them. His hands tended the fields, but his mind wandered to the pink lake, to the girl whose eyes glowed like dawn. He tried to speak to Alira, his younger sister, but even her bright laughter felt distant.
Every night, the dream returned, stronger than before. The pink trees swayed as if in welcome, and the water shimmered under a sky painted with the softest hues of violet and rose. And there she was—Aurelya—standing at the edge of the lake, her hair falling like silver waterfalls over her shoulders.
"You are here again," Chyren whispered, almost afraid she might vanish if he spoke.
"I will always be here," she said softly, her voice like the gentle chime of crystal. Her pink eyes held a warmth that made Chyren's chest ache. "You come to me every night, though you cannot find me in your world."
Chyren knelt by the lake, his hands trembling. "Why do you call me? Why do you appear to me?"
Aurelya smiled faintly, tilting her head. "Because you are searching. Because your heart is ready to see what others cannot. But you are not yet ready to enter my world."
Her words filled him with longing. He wanted to cross the lake, to touch her, to tell her that he loved her. But a thin, invisible barrier kept them apart. He could feel the energy, the magic that separated their worlds.
"Every night I try," Chyren said, voice breaking. "I try to reach you, but I wake up before I can. I cannot live without knowing you."
Aurelya reached out her hand across the lake, but it did not touch him. Instead, a ripple of light spread through the water, and a soft warmth brushed his fingertips. "Patience," she said. "You will come to me, but first you must understand what you are seeking. Love is not simple, Chyren. It is a path filled with joy and sorrow, sacrifice and courage."
Chyren's eyes filled with tears. "I do not care about sorrow. I do not care about sacrifice. I only care for you."
Aurelya's gaze softened. "Then promise me this: do not let your fear guide you. Only with courage can you find the path to my world."
Night after night, Chyren returned to the dream. Each time, the pink lake grew more vivid, the air more fragrant, and Aurelya more real. She hummed songs that he began to remember even in his waking hours. He found himself singing her tunes quietly as he worked in the fields or walked along the river, unaware that villagers watched him curiously.
"Chyren, you hum more than you work," Dalen teased one afternoon, clapping him on the back. Chyren only smiled faintly, lost in thought. The melody of the dream lingered in his ears, sweet and endless.
It was during one such night that something extraordinary happened. As Chyren knelt by the lake in his dream, Aurelya stepped closer than ever before. Her eyes glimmered, and for the first time, he saw tears in them.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, reaching out as though he could bridge the distance between them.
"I cry because I see your heart," she said. "You love me deeply, more than any human has ever loved a fairy. But the worlds are separate, and the path you must take is full of danger."
Chyren's heart pounded. "I will face any danger. I will walk through fire and storms. Tell me what I must do."
Aurelya shook her head. "I cannot ask you to do this yet. Only time will show the way. But know this: your love will bring us together, though the road is long and hard. One day, you will stand before the gateway that divides our worlds."
For hours, they stayed by the lake, speaking in silence, their hearts connected in ways words could not fully capture. Chyren had never known such a feeling. It was stronger than fear, stronger than hope, stronger than anything he had ever imagined. He fell asleep there, still holding the vision of her glowing eyes in his mind.
The next morning, the waking world felt dull and gray in comparison. Even the mountains, which had once filled him with awe, seemed smaller, less alive. His mother called him for breakfast, but he barely heard her. His thoughts were consumed by Aurelya, by the pink lake, by the dream that now felt more like a memory than a figment.
Chyren began to explore beyond the usual paths of Vyranth. He walked through the forests at the edge of town, climbed rocky hills, and followed the rivers into hidden valleys, hoping—almost desperately—that he might find a trace of the pink lake in the real world.
Weeks passed. Villagers began to whisper. "The boy chases shadows," they said. "He is lost in dreams that will take nothing but his peace." But Chyren did not care. Every tree that reflected the evening sun reminded him of Aurelya's glow. Every ripple of water reminded him of her smile.
One night, the dream changed. The pink lake shimmered more brightly than before, and Aurelya's song was clearer, louder, as if calling across the veil between worlds. She stepped onto a stone platform at the edge of the lake.
"Chyren," she said softly, "you are ready. Soon, the path will open for you. But you must be certain. Once you enter the other world, there may be no turning back. Are you ready to leave everything behind for love?"
Chyren felt his chest tighten. His mind raced. Could he leave his family, his home, everything he had ever known? But when he looked into her pink eyes, glowing with trust and longing, he felt only one answer.
"Yes," he said, voice trembling. "I am ready. I will face whatever comes. I will find you."
Aurelya smiled, though her eyes held a shadow of sadness. "Then prepare, Chyren. The time will come when you must make the choice. Until then, grow stronger, hold your heart steady, and remember that love is your guide."
Chyren woke that morning with a strange sense of clarity. The dream had left him exhausted, yet full of purpose. He walked to the river, watching the sunlight dance on the water, and whispered, "I will find you, Aurelya. In dreams or in life, I will find you."
The days that followed were filled with restless energy. Chyren's search in the waking world continued, but now it was guided by a sense of destiny. Each step he took, each path he explored, seemed connected to the pink lake, to Aurelya, to the world that waited beyond the ordinary.
And every night, without fail, he returned to the dream. The girl of the lake was there, humming her song, her eyes glowing, her presence a beacon that pulled him forward. In those moments, Chyren felt that love was not just a feeling, but a force stronger than the mountains, the rivers, and even time itself.
In Vyranth, life carried on. Villagers went about their chores, mountains stood silent and watchful, and the river sparkled under the sun. But Chyren's heart had already left the world of men. It belonged to the girl of the pink lake, to a dream that promised love, danger, and a journey beyond anything he had ever known.
And in the quiet of the night, as the town slept under a blanket of stars, Chyren whispered again to the wind, "I will find you, Aurelya. I will come for you, no matter the world that separates us."
The pink lake waited, glowing softly in his dr
eams. And with it, the girl whose eyes held the dawn of his heart.