Fire and Blood

Chapter 139: The Prophecy ― Open Your Eyes

Somewhere within the dream world...

The surroundings were shrouded in darkness, an expanse that felt utterly vacant and lifeless, stripped of any sound or presence. The air was thick with an oppressive silence as if the very essence of life had been drained from the environment, leaving only an eerie stillness in its wake. Shadows loomed like specters, their shapes indistinct and formless, merging seamlessly with the inky blackness that enveloped everything. It was a place where time seemed to stand still, where the weight of despair hung heavy in the atmosphere, suffocating any flicker of hope. Aeonar found himself prone, face-down in a grimy puddle, the cold, murky water seeping into his clothes and chilling him to the bone. Yet, despite the bleakness surrounding him, he remained unresponsive to the world around him, as if he had become a part of the very darkness that enveloped him. His eyelids were sealed, heavy with the weight of unconsciousness, and his physique remained still, a statue of flesh and bone in a world devoid of color and sound. His respiration was notably sluggish, each breath a laborious effort that seemed to echo in the silence, a faint whisper against the backdrop of nothingness. The rhythm of his breath was languid and faint, each inhalation a struggle, as if the very act of breathing was a burden too much to bear. The world beyond his closed eyes was a distant memory, a place filled with color and sound that now felt like a dream long forgotten. Time felt distorted in this desolate place, stretching and contracting in a way that made it difficult to discern how long he had been there, trapped in this state of suspended animation.

« Awaken. »

After a brief period, Aeonar started to exhibit involuntary twitches, minor spasms that rippled through his limbs like the last flickers of a dying flame. It was a subtle movement at first, a mere flicker of his fingers against the cold, wet ground. Muscles contracted and released, a silent battle waged within him, urging him to awaken from the depths of his stupor. His fingers curled and uncurled, and his toes flexed against the ground as if they were reaching for something beyond his grasp. The puddle beneath him rippled gently, disturbed by the tremors of his awakening. With each twitch, a flicker of consciousness ignited within him, illuminating the shadows that had held him captive. With a sudden surge of determination, Aeonar's eyes finally cracked open as he forcibly pushed himself up, his palms pressing against the damp ground. "Gaaaaah!" he gasped for breath. The shadows recoiled momentarily as if surprised by his defiance. As his senses began to awaken, he became acutely aware of the coldness of the water beneath him, how it clung to his skin, and the gritty texture that pressed against his body. He pushed himself up, muscles protesting as he fought against the weight of his own inertia. Finally, he managed to rise to his knees, the murky water sloshing around him, and he took a moment to catch his breath. The silence was still there, but it felt different now-less suffocating, more like a canvas. He looked around, his gaze sweeping over the desolation, and for the first time, he felt a flicker of uncertainty.

It was a silence that felt almost sentient, watching him, waiting for him to succumb again to despair.

"I am... still alive?"

« You are, for the time being, Aeonar Targaryen. »

Aeonar's senses heightened as an unusual echo resonated from the depths of the void, capturing his attention. The sound was unlike anything he had ever encountered-a haunting melody that seemed to weave through the fabric of silence, pulling at the edges of his physique. He spun around, his gaze darting in every conceivable direction, seeking the sound's origin. But no matter how he strained his eyes, the surrounding darkness revealed nothing! It was as if the void itself conspired to keep its secrets hidden, wrapping him in a shroud of uncertainty. "Who's there?!" he called out, his voice reverberating through the emptiness, a fragile thread of sound that dissipated into the abyss. The echo returned to him, distorted and elongated, mocking his plea as it faded into silence.