Lucid

CHAPTER 2 - TRIGGERS

I knew he was the one. From the moment the prophecy was spoken, I felt it in my bones. Even now, his recovery baffles me. Some might call it a miracle, but in truth, it's something far more supernatural—something that defies ordinary understanding.

But that revelation will have to wait. He's still being tested, navigating the turbulent waters of his recovery. Until then, I'll have to do what I've always done.

Maintain the Balance.

In this case, it's Guidance. Each trigger—each memory, emotion, and sensation—will shape not just his future, but the fate of many. I will be there to illuminate the path when shadows threaten to engulf him.

<>

Sleeping felt strange. You'd think, after nearly two months in a coma, that I would be accustomed to endless slumber. But no, sleeping felt wrong in every way. My mind was constantly running checks, as if it needed to verify that I was still alive, not trapped in another unending darkness. These checks came in the form of sudden jolts—the feeling of falling, or an adrenaline spike that woke me with a start.

Clare, the nurse who cared for me in limbo, would appear like clockwork. She always knew when I was struggling. Sitting by my side, she'd guide me through breathing exercises, her voice low and calm. If that didn't work, she mothered me—gentle hands rubbing my back, sometimes even holding me close if I cried after waking up. I felt ridiculous. There were no nightmares. No real terrors haunting my sleep. Yet, each time I woke up, there was a creeping dread that gnawed at my insides.

It wasn't fun.

The whole night went like this, over and over again. Each hour I would jolt awake, a rush of fear surging through me without reason. The last time it happened was just before dawn. But this time, something was different. This time, I had a dream...

~~~

I stood in a meadow. No, it wasn't really a meadow—it was more like a clearing, a space surrounded by trees. It was the same place I found after escaping the canoe. The trees around me were all pine, perfectly symmetrical, like they'd been copied and pasted in a circle around the clearing. I was near the edge, peering into the darkness that clung to the bark and the thick underbrush.

That's where the fear came from. My heart began to race just by looking at the darkness. Instinct kicked in, urging me to run—to get as far away from it as I could. But I didn't. At the centre of the clearing was another tree. This one was different.

I couldn't tell what kind of tree it was, only that its roots were exposed, curling out from the earth to form a wide base that narrowed as it climbed. Its branches mirrored the roots, covered in bright green moss and tall grass.

Sunlight streamed through the leaves, casting a warm glow on the trunk, which shimmered a soft, rich brown. The leaves were speckled with flowers—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple—like the tree was the only living thing bursting with colour. The other trees were dull, drained of vibrancy.

Shades of grey, darkened by the shadows that crept closer, devouring the green grass beneath them. I stepped back until my back pressed against the colourful tree's trunk. That's when I felt it—a sharp sting in my hand. Pain flared through my skin. I glanced down to see my hand covered in blood.

On the trunk, right where I had rested it, was a symbol drawn in my blood: a simple circle. I turned back toward the shadows. They hesitated, as if they saw the mark. Then, with a screech that cut through the air, the darkness tore itself from the ground and shot up like a bat into the sky, blotting out the sun.