The snow on the peaks of Vyranth glistened like scattered diamonds under the morning sun, but Chyren hardly noticed. The mountains, the rivers, the forests—everything seemed like a shadow of the dream world he carried in his heart. The pink lake, Aurelya, her glowing eyes—all of it consumed his every thought.
Chyren had spent weeks walking beyond the familiar paths of his town. He followed trails through dense forests where sunlight barely reached the ground. He climbed hills that tested his strength, and he waded through rivers that chilled him to the bone. Every turn of the path, every whisper of the wind, he hoped it might lead him to even a trace of the pink lake from his dreams.
The villagers began to notice. Whispers followed him wherever he went.
"The boy is chasing shadows again," an old woman said as she watched him disappear into the forest.
"He walks all day, yet finds nothing," a man muttered.
Chyren ignored them. Nothing in the waking world mattered now. All he cared about was the dream—and the girl who waited there.
One evening, after days of wandering through the forest, Chyren sat by a small stream, the water moving fast over smooth stones. He removed his worn boots and let his tired feet touch the icy water. He had walked for hours, searching every valley, every clearing, every bend in the rivers. But the pink lake, the pink trees, Aurelya—none were there.
Frustration rose inside him, a heavy weight pressing on his chest. "Why am I not finding you?" he whispered to the wind, though he knew the wind could not answer. "I have walked through every forest, every hill, every river… and still, you are not here."
The forest was silent, as if holding its breath. Chyren felt the ache in his heart grow deeper, sharper. He wanted to give up, to return to the safety of his home, to the ordinary life he had once known. But the thought of Aurelya, of her pink eyes, of her gentle voice calling to him in the dream, would not let him.
He rose, shivering from the cold, and pressed on. Days became weeks, weeks became months. He learned the sounds of the forest—the rustle of leaves, the cry of distant animals, the whisper of the wind through the tall pine trees. Yet each familiar sound reminded him of what he was searching for, and how it remained just out of reach.
One night, after a long climb up a rocky hill, Chyren collapsed beside a small pool of water. The sky was painted in deep shades of violet and gold, the first stars beginning to shine. He closed his eyes, and as always, the dream came to him.
He was back at the pink lake. The trees shimmered, petals glowing softly under the pink light. Aurelya stood at the edge, her eyes searching for him. Her voice, soft and musical, reached him.
"Chyren… why do you struggle so hard?" she asked.
"I must find you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I will not stop. Even if it takes a lifetime, I will find you in the real world."
Aurelya's gaze softened. "You are brave, but do not forget—your heart is strong, yet fragile. Do not let the search break you. You must be patient. The worlds are not yet ready to meet."
Chyren wanted to step through the barrier, to hold her, but the invisible wall shimmered and pushed him back. He awoke with a gasp, chest heaving, the cold of the night air biting his skin.
For months, Chyren's days were filled with wandering. He tracked the flowing rivers, hoping to see a lake with pink water. He climbed hills, believing the glow of the setting sun might reveal the magical trees. He even ventured deep into caves, thinking that the pink light might shine through the stone. Each time, he found only ordinary rock, water, and forest.
Yet he did not lose hope. In the quiet moments, when the world slept, he would close his eyes and hum the melody Aurelya sang in his dream. The song gave him strength, guiding him like a compass in the wilderness.
Chyren's body grew leaner, stronger from months of walking and climbing. His hands were rough from clearing paths and climbing cliffs. His hair fell into his eyes, and his clothes wore thin, patched from repeated journeys. But his heart, though weary, beat with a singular purpose: to find the girl of the pink lake.
One evening, he returned home briefly. Vyranth looked familiar, yet distant, as if he were seeing it through a veil. His mother, Telya, embraced him. "Chyren, my son… where have you been? You worry us so."
"I have… been searching," he said simply. He did not speak of the pink lake, fearing they would think him mad.
Alira frowned. "All these months, you have wandered like a ghost. Will you ever rest?"
Chyren shook his head. "I cannot rest. Not until I find her."
That night, he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep did not come easily. The dream waited for him, pulling him back to the pink lake. And when it did come, it was vivid—more vivid than ever.
He stood at the edge of the glowing water, the petals of the pink trees brushing his face. Aurelya appeared, walking slowly toward him.
"You have endured much," she said, her voice carrying both admiration and sadness. "Your heart is steadfast, but soon the path will demand more than endurance. You will have to choose between your world and mine."
Chyren took a step forward, tears in his eyes. "I will choose you," he said. "I do not care about my world. I do not care about anything else. I will find you, no matter what it costs."
Aurelya's eyes softened, but she looked away. "Then the journey is beginning, Chyren. But remember, once you leave the world of men, there may be no return. Be ready to face what awaits."
Chyren woke before he could ask her what she meant. His heart pounded. The warning echoed in his mind. The path ahead was unknown, filled with magic and danger. Yet he felt no fear—only determination.
For months, he had wandered the forests, rivers, and mountains of Vyranth. He had faced hunger, cold, exhaustion, and loneliness. And still, he would continue. Every step, every breath, every heartbeat was dedicated to finding the girl of the pink lake, the one who had become the center of his soul.
He rose with the first light of dawn, gathering his worn supplies. Today, he would climb the tallest peak near the town, hoping that from its heights, he might glimpse something extraordinary. The mountains of Vyranth stretched endlessly before him, snow glittering like stars in daylight. Somewhere, hidden in the folds of the world, the pink lake waited. And beyond it, Aurelya waited for him.
Chyren took a deep breath, feeling the cold mountain air fill his lungs. He tightened his cloak around his shoulders and stepped forward, determined to face whatever the journey demanded. His heart, restless and filled with love, guided him. And in the quiet valleys, under the watchful eyes of the stars, the boy of Vyranth continued his search—for a dream, for a girl, and for a destiny written in the glow of a pink lake.