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There’s a familiar scent in the air. It’s sweet and fresh, like the summer morning with dews dripping down the green leaves and the chirps of birds that gave life to the cold day. And all of those feel odd, especially so when you can’t remember when you fell asleep or any place that you know of that has such a scent.
Your eyes open, and the golden rays of the sun appear before you along with a field of flowers that never once have you seen in the real world. With a fresh aura that somehow emits from the sight of them alone, the flowers sprout between the grass, their colour light and having more than enough layers to give it a gratifying feel. You take a light waft, yet the smell that you taste feels nothing like what this grandiose thing should have been.
It’s when you give a look around that your mind chimes and tells you, This is a dream.
But how can that be so?
It is most odd to be here, standing on this lovely field with clothes that make you frown and the feeling of your mind so elevated and distant from the usual feelings that are usually instilled within you.
The only person who could ever insinuate such a dream is ‘Her’, and the only being who is less afraid of his secrets is also ‘Her’.
You frown, but decide to move from your location. After all, there’s no more use for yourself in the world any longer. The birth of a new God has passed, and it will only take a few more years before a new Lord of the Mysteries is born.
So...why are you thinking like this?
Your feet stop and there, just a short distance away from you is him.
It’s never a ‘He’, you think, it’s always him.
And as you gaze at him, frozen as a statue and your emotions too much for the you who has no Manipulator powers, it is then that he smiles at you.
So soft, so warm, and so full of nostalgia that it crashes down on you like a plane. It was nothing like the smile that adorns his current body; it was nothing like the distant sheen that appears whenever you give him hints to bring you along with his crusade. It’s a smile that had appeared before that and it gives you so much horror that you don’t know what to do.
But the longingness overcomes you and you start rushing to him.
Your hand reaches out and—
“Good morning, Zhou Mingrui,” he smiles at you, a melodious voice ringing through the dream.
You stop just a few feet from him, the feeling of accumulated zeal washing over you and you start to break down, your eyes on the ground and beads of water falling from somewhere.
Someone’s palm pats your head, its warmth a lingering taste on the back of your mouth. You raise your head, and tears blur away your sight of him, but you can see his black hair and golden roots. His European features and the small expression of happiness that makes him so charming.
Ignoring the fact that this is nothing more than your own imagination; ignoring the fact that this is nothing but a dream and everything is fake; ignoring your own aching heart, you hug him.
It feels too real.
So real.
You sob.
And he speaks to you, caressing your back softly, “Do you like this field?”
You give him a blank stare, the remains of your emotions still raw in your eyes. Looking at your disheveled appearance, he smiles and keeps on talking a topic so far away from what you wish he would say that it makes you remember that this is nothing but a dream .
“The flowers,” He continues, “I believe they’re camellia, and pink ones, too.” He looks at you, “I never thought you’d dream of such colour.”
You wipe away your tears and give him a glare. But he ignores it.
You don’t know when it was, but it feels somewhat dark in this bright place. Despite the rays of sun and the bright greens of the field, it feels like you’re standing in the middle of the ocean with the silver moon being reflected on the moving surface.
It’s impossible for you to ignore such a thing, and you end up breaking the illusion when you look down once more to see the crimson moon.
Something shatters in the sky, and the clicking sound of glass pierce your ears. The morning sky is whisked away and the camellia flowers wilts and new ones blooms with sharp edges. They are darker in colour, and a bad feeling arises when you see a familiar city.
Oh no.
You snap your head to the sky, and the crimson moon looks upon you with its horrifying existence. Your mouth is agape with a shudder, and you look at the red flowers taunting you with their existence and wonder over their meaning. Is it betrayal? Is it hatred? Do they mean something within this accursed dream that ‘She’ gave to you?
You turn back to the place where he had stood before, and find nothing but a lone silver cross that’s so similar to the one you have outside this dream that you wonder if it’s yours. It’s the same cold metal touch that you usually feel when you hold it. The same glint with the one yours give.
You clench it to your chest, and your eyes start stinging again. But you hold it in and run away from the scenery. Away from that event and away from all those who had participated and killed him.
A rock makes you tumble, and finally, the sky turns to the dark night and the moon becomes silver once again. The scent of vanilla is faint while the rotting stench of flowers overpower everything.
“...Amanises,” your voice calls out.
A woman’s voice answers your call. “Good night, Zhou Mingrui.”
You raise your head to look at ‘Her’. Standing amidst blooming moonflowers and night vanilla and rotten roses is a lady with black layered dress that gives sparks like the star. The veil on ‘Her’ face moves slightly as ‘She’ looks at the moon, “It’s been a long time, has it not?”
You’re not sure what to say, but you ask either way, “Why are you making me dream?”
‘She’ bows her head, “Adam’s already gotten all ‘His’ authorities back. Isn’t it time for you to choose a side now?”
You laugh mournfully, “I’ve always been on his side, even if he…” you almost falter in your words before glaring at ‘Her’, “I can say that you making me dream of all of this isn’t going to bring me to your side.”
‘She’ tilts ‘Her’ head, and you feel as though there’s something that has confused ‘Her’ before ‘She’ starts speaking again and makes you feel like you’ve done the most wrong thing in the world, “You do remember that I’m not the dreamer?”
You can’t find anything to say, and by the looks of it, so does ‘She’. Both of you stand in silence despite the smell becoming more and more unbearable. In your head you mutter all the wishes that can make ‘Her’ disappear from your sight, but not a single one of them come true.
Finally, ‘She’ asks another question: perhaps in the hope of making you soft against ‘Her’. “Did Adam visit you?”
You only look at ‘Her’, not trusting yourself to give out more than what you mean to, and ‘She’ sighs and tells you, “I’m sorry that that appeared in your dream. It wasn’t in my attention to make you experience it once more.”
You keep your silence.
“I’m sorry, Zhou Mingrui.” Finally, ‘Her’ figure fades away, “I—”
“Stop it,” you say, “Just please, leave me alone.”
‘Her’ figure finally disappears, and the night sky remains within the dream, sparkling in the solemn atmosphere. You look up to the moon, and a sense of tiredness overcomes you.
“Maybe,” you whisper to yourself, the silver cross being clenched tightly in your hand, “I should sleep for sometime too…”
The smell of rotten roses dissipates, and you feel faint like you’re about to wake up to the horrible world that has never given you a rest even once.
Your hand extends, reaching out to the moon, and a faint illusion appears before your eyes. Your mouth starts speaking
“I miss you—”
And you're back awake to a dark world with the sound of thunder booming at intervals.