The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 33: A Nice Dream

Within the blinding flash of magic and light, Liam's eyes widened.

The Vanaheim sky was drowned out by dull grey clouds. No... That wasn't the sky of Vanaheim. Liam knew, he understood he wasn't on Vanaheim. The smell of the air, the feel of the ground, and the brush of the wind. It was all different. This was home. This was Midgard.

Flakes of snow drizzled down from the sky, leaving the ground covered in the blanket of white. He slowly walked through a forest, surrounded by trees just like the ones on Vanaheim. No...

The trees on Vanaheim are just like the ones on Midgard, not the other way around. That's what he was thinking. But the singular thought of Vanaheim slipped his mind as soon as he noticed the grand wooden house before him.

In the distance, just a couple dozen meters away... A home stood. That's right. He was on Midgard. He was at his childhood home.

'That's right...' Liam thought to himself, swallowing his saliva.

Liam's footsteps became staggered.

He stared at the group of children, all of them huddled together as they sat on the porch of the wooden home. They sat there, in stillness and silence.

Until one of them noticed Liam. "Hey Liam!" the boy shouted. "You're back!" He stood up and waved from afar.

"Wait..." he mumbled, staring at the child. He must've been four years old, at the most. Tiny and smiling with joy at the sight of his brother. Exactly how Liam remembered him.

"Éric..." he mumbled, letting out a soft breath. The cold air turned his breath into pale mist. Liam paused. Wasn't he just on Vanaheim, wasn't he? That question once again slipped his mind once he saw his brother once again.

"Wait, no," Liam said. "You guys aren't supposed to be here," he muttered, slowly walking closer.

"Just because Dad grounded us doesn't mean we can't be outside, right?" a girl said. Her eyes met Liam's from afar. Her skin was dark brown, just like her hair, just like the heavy shirt she wore in the snow. Still, she appeared to be no more than seven years old.

"No..." Liam muttered. He put his hand over his mouth as tears welled up in his eyes. "No..."

Liam swallowed his saliva. "Guys..." He stumbled forward, gradually getting faster and faster with each staggered step. He ran towards his siblings, tackling them all with a hug.

"I've missed you!" he cried out, tears dripping from his shut eyes. "All of you!" That was all he could say.

"Liam, are you okay?" another asked. She was the oldest out of the siblings, around ten or eleven years old. She grabbed Liam by the shoulders and gingerly separated him from the others, her eyes tinged with concern and confusion.

And just like that... Liam fell to his knees, crashing onto the light layer of snow. He let out an anguished howl. "I'm sorry!" he wailed, still clinging to each of them by their clothing. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

It was then that he noticed the sight of his arms. Liam stared at his hands. They were smaller, paler, softer. His hands weren't rough. They weren't cracked and calloused. His arms had no scars, no scabs.

Liam thought... No. He already knew. He was young. Just a child. Alive and happy. The troubles of his life had already slipped his mind. All that he could think about, all that he knew... was this.

Being with his family, being happy, and laughing. The life he remembered from so long ago. The life he wished he had. The life he experienced at that very moment.