Dream of Fire and Chains
The night was quiet, but Marion's sleep was restless. He tossed in bed, pulled the blanket tighter as if it could shield him from something invisible. Eventually he slipped into a dream that felt more real than any waking day.
He stood in a forest. Fog hung heavy between the trees. And there she was: Nix. Her green hair glowed like moss in the moonlight, her eyes burning with anticipation.
"You gave me a name," she whispered. Her voice sounded childlike—and yet like an order. "You are mine, and I am yours."
Marion wanted to answer, but the world split apart. Out of the fog emerged another figure: a man in white-and-gold armor, face hard, the cross of the Church of Light on his chest.
In his hand he carried a book—the High Light Scripture.
"Marion from a foreign world," the man thundered, "you are Reborn. You have defiled the Order. You gave a beast a name." His voice rolled like thunder, every word a sentence.
Nix screamed and tried to run to him, but invisible chains tore her back. "No! He belongs to me!" She doubled over, hands bloody from the shackles—chains made of light.
"Silence, creature," the inquisitor said.
Marion tried to flee, but suddenly he was bound as well—cold iron cutting into his wrists. Men in white robes seized him, dragged him over the forest floor, and before his eyes the ground changed—into cobblestones, into a marketplace.
There stood a pyre. Charred black, as if it had already seen a thousand victims.
"No… please… no…" Marion's voice broke.
Hands shoved him up. Ropes cinched around his body. Wood cracked under his feet. He saw the crowd: classmates, teachers, villagers. All staring. Some wept. Some laughed. Katie smiled coldly. Jenny looked away. Rico stood there drenched in tears, shouting, "Let him go! He's one of us!"
The inquisitor raised a hand. "In the name of the Light: burn."
Torches dipped. Flames licked at the wood. Smoke tore into his throat. He screamed, felt skin melt, breath rip apart—fire, pain, death.
And then—darkness.
But he didn't wake.
He stood at the pyre again, bound, the inquisitor before him.
"Reborn," the man said. "Again."
Again flames. Again screams. Again death.
And again darkness.
Over and over. Every rebirth ended in the same place. No escape. No rescue. His body burned, fell apart, re-formed—only to be burned again.
"You are not human," the inquisitor's voice boomed. "You are Reborn. And Reborn are erased."
Marion wept. Tears ran down his burned face and instantly evaporated in the fire. "I want to live! Please… I just want to live…"
From the flames he heard a whisper—Nix's voice, weak, broken: "I'm with you… I am… yours…"
Then only fire again.
When he finally woke, his body was soaked with sweat, the blanket drenched. His heart raced, every breath a ragged fight. He lay in the dormitory darkness, hearing the soft breathing of his classmates. Everything was silent. Everything was normal.
But the verdict still echoed in his ears:
"You are Reborn!"
And in his chest burned the certainty that it was no lie.
Visit from the Vampire
Marion lay awake in his bed, the blanket clammy with sweat. The pyre-dream still clung to him; every flicker of candlelight in the hall made him flinch. He stared at the dark ceiling, unable to close his eyes.
Then a shadow slid across his face. A voice, soft as silk, cut through the stillness:
"My little Reborn one."
Marion jolted upright.
And there she was.
Tessa.
Beside his bed, more beautiful than anything he had ever dreamed—and crueler than any hell. Her hair shimmered blood-red in the candlelight, her eyes glowed gold. In her hand she held a book.
The book—the one he had read.
"I think," she said, smiling with a trace of mockery, "you've realized who you really are."
Marion couldn't speak. His heart hammered, his throat locked tight.
"You know, I would have liked to play with you a little longer." Her voice was gentle, almost tender, as she let the book slide through her fingers. "But Dravonel, my lord—the Demon King of Noctryis…" She spoke the name like a kiss. "…wants me to stop."
She dropped the book onto his blanket. It landed heavy on his chest—like a sentence.
"If you ever come to Noctryis," she went on, "you can visit him. Maybe he'll like what he sees in you. Maybe he won't."
She leaned closer, so near he felt her breath. "And as for your little friend… Nix. Or should I say Xin? … She's still alive. Somewhere."
Marion's hands clenched in the blanket. His voice cracked, but he forced it out. "You can't just leave. Not after everything. You… you're all I have left! You killed my great love, you're… you're all that remains for me!"
For a moment she was silent.
Then she laughed—quietly, but it sliced into him like blades.
"Oh, my sweet fool. Love?" She traced his cheek with a cold fingertip. "Just name yourself some mangy cat-creature. And fuck that."
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He gasped, eyes burning with tears.
Tessa straightened and smoothed her dress. "Take better care of yourself, my little Reborn. Maybe we'll see each other again. Or one of my servants. Or one of my handmaidens." Her smile gleamed like a dagger. "Until then… sleep well."
She stepped back—and dissolved into shadow as if she had never existed.
The Next Morning
The bell rang for first period, dull and heavy like a blow to the head. Marion dragged himself into the classroom, eyes red, skin pale, hands still shaking. He had barely slept—or rather: not at all.
Tessa's face still hovered before him. Her smile. Her mockery.
"Just name yourself some cat-creature and fuck that."
The words clung to him like thorns.
He sat down and stared at the desk. The grain of the wood swam in his vision, as if it were burning. He heard his classmates' voices through cotton.
"Did you do the homework?" — "Nah, I was still outside.""Man, it still smells like smoke in here.""Jenny looks totally wrecked…"
Jenny sat two rows away, face gray with soot, hair dull from smoke. She held her head high, but her eyes betrayed exhaustion and shame. Nobody spoke to her directly, but everyone stared at her like she was a ghost. Katie sat alone. Her friend was gone—down in the dungeon—and Katie looked naked without her shadow.
"Dude, you look like you're dead." Manuel flopped into the seat beside Marion, grinning halfheartedly. "Worse than Rico. And that's saying something."
Rico sat slumped at the edge like always since Xin disappeared. He didn't speak. He only cried quietly, sometimes right in the middle of class. Today he stared into nothing, eyes swollen.
Tobia arrived with his eternal sandwich, chewing slowly. "Hey—are you okay?" he asked Marion, and for the first time it didn't sound like a throwaway line.
Marion nodded without looking up. "I'm fine." His voice was rough, lifeless.
"Fine, yeah sure." Manuel rolled his eyes. "You can totally see that."
Then Vania approached their table carefully. Her pink hair was braided, and she looked like a bright point in the gray classroom.
"Marion?" Her voice was soft, hesitant. "You… you don't look well."
A few heads turned. Jenny glanced over briefly, then quickly away. Katie rolled her eyes as if to say: Of course she's running to him again.
Marion forced a smile. "Slept badly."
"Nightmares?" Vania asked gently. "If you want to talk…" She perched half on his desk, searching for his eyes.
He avoided her gaze and stared at his notebook instead. If I tell you what I saw—that Tessa stood beside my bed, that the Demon King knows my name—you would run. Or you would betray me.
"I'm okay," he said, flipping through pages like he had notes. "I'll manage."
Vania sighed softly and slid back to her seat. But he could feel her eyes on the back of his neck for a long time.
The lesson began, but Marion heard nothing. The teacher's words bounced off him—numbers, formulas, spells. He saw only Tessa's eyes. Heard only her voice: "Maybe we'll see each other again."
Then Lukas laughed in the back because the teacher mispronounced a word. Basti roared along until half the class giggled. It was as if the world had decided to stay normal, no matter how much it burned.
Rico cried.
Jenny stared stubbornly at her notebook.
Vania tried to offer hope.
And Marion? He played the normal one again, trapped in his secret. The invisible one.
Only he knew: in his dreams he had already died a thousand deaths.
And a vampire had spit in his face.