The dream did not feel like a dream anymore. It felt like I had been placed inside a body that did not belong to me, a hollow vessel drifting through thoughts that were not entirely mine, yet not completely чуж either. They floated around me like whispers in the wind, fragile and fleeting, and I found myself clinging to them, afraid that if I did not listen carefully, they would vanish forever.
I was walking.
For the first time… I was walking freely.
The streets stretched endlessly before me, yet nothing about them felt alive. People moved, talked, laughed, cried but to me, they looked like corpses. Empty shells wandering under the illusion that they owned their souls. Their movements had no meaning, their smiles no weight. They were simply… existing.
My hand tightened around the hilt of my sword.
It felt warmer than anything else in that world.
It felt… alive.
As if it understood me better than any of those walking bodies ever could.
I walked through them, past laughter, past meaningless chatter, past hollow joy, and all I could think was-
Why do they struggle so much to live?
If life is nothing more than a straight path written by something greater, then why do they try to bend it, decorate it, give it meaning?
Why don't they just… give up?
Days passed. Or maybe it was years. Time felt irrelevant.
I kept walking, searching for something I could not name, until one day… I saw her.
An old woman.
She stood in front of a small plant, one that looked like it had already given up on life. Its leaves were dry, its stem weak, its color fading into the dullness of death.
And yet… she watered it.
Gently.
Carefully.
As if it were something precious.
I stepped closer, unable to understand.
"Ma'am," I asked, my voice calm but hollow, "you know it's dying, don't you? Why don't you just let it die?"
She turned toward me, her eyes soft, her expression peaceful in a way I had never seen before.
"Dying?" she repeated, as if the word itself amused her. "Does it really look like it's dying to you?"
I frowned slightly.
What else could it be?
She smiled and brushed her fingers over the fragile leaves, her touch so light, as if she feared breaking something already broken.
"All I see," she continued softly, "is a little plant waiting for someone to hold onto it."
Her words made no sense.
Or maybe… I simply did not want them to.
"You see," she said, her voice flowing like a quiet stream, "it has been waiting for spring. Waiting for the wind to come and dance with it. If it dies now, it will never feel that warmth… never know what it means to live, even for a moment."
I stared at her, unable to understand.
A dying thing… waiting for a future it might never reach?
How foolish.
How pointless.
And yet…
Something in her voice lingered.
I turned away without another word and continued walking, leaving her behind, leaving her meaningless thoughts behind.
Or at least… I thought I did.
Because no matter how far I walked, her voice stayed with me.
Until once again-
I found myself in the middle of a battlefield.
The air was thick with the scent of blood, the ground painted in red, screams echoing endlessly as steel clashed against steel.
It felt familiar.
Comforting, even.
A man charged toward me, sword raised high. Instinctively, my hand moved to draw my own blade-
But before I could-
Another man stepped in front of me.
His sword clashed with theirs, pushing them back, shielding me.
Shielding… me?
"Hey, kid," he said, laughing lightly despite the chaos around us, "this isn't a place for playing. Run."
I blinked, confused.
"I can kill you," I replied honestly.
He laughed again.
"Yeah? That's scary," he said, though there was no fear in his voice. "Then hold my hand and don't let go."
And he did.
He took my hand.
Warm.
Firm.
Alive.
It was… strange.
I did not trust him.
I had no reason to follow him.
And yet…
I did.
We ran through the chaos, through blades and blood, until we reached a place that seemed safe-
But it wasn't.
More enemies waited.
More swords pointed toward us.
He stepped forward again, placing himself between me and them, his grip on his weapon tightening.
"I'll protect you," he said.
Why?
Why would he do that?
He didn't know me.
I wasn't weak.
I didn't need protection.
So why…
Why did my body refuse to move?
Why did my hands tremble?
Why did I feel… afraid?
The fight began.
He fought like a storm, fierce and unyielding, even as wounds began to cover his body, even as blood poured from him with every movement.
And still-
He stood.
Still-
He protected me.
Until something pierced through him from behind.
Not a man.
Not something I could even name.
But it struck him.
And he faltered.
Yet even then… he didn't fall.
He stayed standing.
For me.
I should interrupt others life, I shouldn't, master told so... that is what I'm doing... but why...
Tears fell from my eyes before I even realized it.
Warm.
Unfamiliar.
"Why?" I asked, my voice breaking for the first time. "Why didn't you attack me…? Why did you protect me?"
He laughed.
Softly.
Weakly.
The light in his eyes fading, yet something within them remained… gentle.
He tightened his grip on my hand one last time.
And in that final moment… I saw it. his vision...
A small child.
Running toward him.
Laughing.
Calling him.
His son.
His world.
Then…
His hand loosened.
And he was gone.
Something inside me shattered.
And something else…
Awakened.
I pulled out my sword.
The world turned silent.
Then-
I was back.
Back where the old woman stood.
Spring had come.
The wind was warm, gentle, carrying life within it.
And the plant…
It was dancing.
Its weak stem swaying, its fragile leaves trembling in the breeze, as if it were laughing, as if it had been waiting its entire existence for this one moment.
It was beautiful.
More beautiful than anything I had ever seen.
"It's dancing," she said, her voice beside me once again.
I didn't know when she appeared.
I didn't question it.
"What meaning would it have carried," she continued softly, "if it had died before this moment?"
I stared at the plant.
At its fragile, fleeting life.
At its meaningless, beautiful existence.
And for the first time…
I didn't know what was right anymore.
My thoughts crumbled.
Everything I believed in began to crack.
If my entire life was wrong…
Then what was the point of holding onto it?
My voice came out quieter than ever before.
"What is… death?"
She chuckled softly.
"So, where would you like to begin?"
And just like that-
The dream shattered.
I woke up.
My chest rising and falling rapidly, my body cold despite the warmth of the room. The clock read 3 a.m., and an uneasy feeling settled deep within me.
They say waking up at this hour means someone is watching you.
I looked around.
Zhan and Lian were asleep, their breathing steady, peaceful.
Too peaceful.
I stepped toward the window, needing air, needing space, but my mind refused to quiet.
Why did they let him die?
Why did she let the plant live?
Why… did it feel like both were right?
I turned back.
Zhan was smiling in his sleep.
It should have looked peaceful.
But something about it felt… unsettling.
I lay back down, clutching my pillow tightly, as if it could protect me from thoughts I didn't understand.
"No nightmares," I whispered.
But sleep came anyway.
And with it-
Another vision.
An island.
A small tree.
I stood there, unmoving.
The tree grew.
Seasons passed.
It aged.
It withered.
It died.
And still-
I stood.
More trees grew around me.
More lives bloomed and faded.
Time moved.
Everything changed.
Except me.
The only thing that changed… was the way I looked at them.
And somehow-
That felt far more terrifying than anything else.