Vows And Veil

Ah, Here Comes Another Dream.

Adelaide's lungs heave with the effort of breathing amidst the dusty haze that envelops her. The scene before her appears surreal, obscured by the thick fog of battle. Amidst the chaos, a distant scent tugs at her senses, the unmistakable metallic tang of blood lingering in the air like a haunting specter.

Suddenly, a sound cuts through the haze—a child's laughter, pure and carefree. Adelaide's heart clenches with alarm. Could it be true? Is there truly a child amidst this macabre scene? Disbelief mingles with dread as she struggles to comprehend the unthinkable.

With a surge of panic, Adelaide lunges forward, her movements hindered by the debris strewn across the battlefield. Each step is a precarious dance, dodging fallen soldiers whose lifeless forms litter the ground like discarded puppets. The sight of their vacant stares sends a shiver down her spine, a chilling reminder of the unforgiving reality of war.

Yet amidst the carnage, the child persists, oblivious to the horrors that surround him. Adelaide's determination intensifies as she pushes forward, driven by a singular purpose—to reach the innocent soul amidst the chaos, to shield him from the grim fate that looms ominously overhead.

"Stop!" Adelaide's voice pierces through the chaos, but the child's laughter continues unabated, his innocent joy stark against the grim backdrop of death. Adelaide feels a bead of sweat trickle down her brow, the combined heat of the sun and the rising panic within her chest overwhelming her senses. It's a scene she knows all too well—a battlefield stained with blood, haunted by the echoes of her past.

With a sinking realization, Adelaide gazes down at her own attire, the once pristine white now marred by the telltale stains of battle. The sword in her hand feels heavy, a reminder of the violence she has witnessed and the choices she has made. She had thought she rid herself of it, cast it away like a cursed relic, yet here it is once more, a silent witness to her past deeds.

Turning her attention to the child, Adelaide feels a surge of relief as she notices the innocent object clutched in his small hands—a flute, not a weapon. A fleeting sense of gratitude washes over her before she casts the sword aside once more, a gesture of defiance against the violence that threatens to consume them all.

In stark contrast to her previous nightmares, the chaos now resides solely within Adela's chest, a tumultuous storm of concern and fear for the child who innocently plays amidst the fallen. Everything else is eerily serene—a silent tableau of death. There are no anguished cries for aid, no visible wounds, no clash of steel, nor the agonized whinnies of wounded steeds. Just an unsettling stillness that hangs heavy in the air.

Amidst this surreal calm, Adela's senses are attuned to the only sounds that punctuate the silence: the whispering gusts of dusty wind, the infectious laughter of the child, and the thunderous rhythm of her own heartbeat. In this moment, she is consumed by a singular focus—the safety of the child.

With tears welling in her eyes, Adelaide pleads with the boy to cease his playful antics. Her maternal instincts override any thoughts of her past actions or the surreal nature of her surroundings. All that matters is protecting this innocent life. Yet, amidst her concern, a nagging question lingers—why is this child here? And what sorrow awaits his parents if she fails to keep him safe?

The child finally halts, swiveling around to face Adela. His cherubic features are framed by a cascade of blonde curls, and his wide hazel eyes hold an innocent curiosity. Rosy cheeks and a pink-tinted nose lend him an endearing charm. Clad in a uniform akin to the soldiers of Adorea, he appears to be one of their own. With a playful giggle, he extends his chubby arms toward Adela, his voice ringing out with innocent enthusiasm, "Come, play with me, Maa!"