Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 81: Dreamscape

Time passed and, like every night, the cultists retired to their beds, the bustle of the day slowly fading into the quiet of the night. Narinder, feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders, rose from his spot of observation and walked towards his home. The night was serene, the fresh air accompanied him on his journey, and with each step, he felt an inner calm he had not experienced in a long time.

Arriving home, he took off his robe with a sense of relief and lay down on his bed. He looked down at his crown, where the rest of the wool he had saved from the lamb still rested. Without hesitation, he carefully took it out. The time had come. He opened his pillow, taking out all the cotton he had used to fill it, and in its place, he began to place the wool he had so carefully preserved.

Each handful of wool made him feel a kind of connection, an intangible but real link with his past, with the lamb. When he was done, he buried his face in the newly formed pillow, and the aroma immediately invaded him. That familiar, comforting smell of lamb seeped into his senses, calming every corner of his being.

For a moment, the pain of its absence tried to sneak in, but Narinder pushed it away. He would no longer see it, no longer feel its heartbeat or hear its voice, but that was okay. He had reached a point in his life where he understood that the lamb had fulfilled its role, and that even in its absence, it was still a part of him.

He accepted what fate had brought him, just as the lamb accepted his. With that thought, Narinder understood that he should not forget the lamb, not as a source of pain, but as a happy memory, a spark of light in his darkness. The lamb was not just a follower or his key to liberation, it went beyond being his most faithful ally, although in the end it died by his own hands to be freed.

A soft smile appeared on his face as he buried his face deeper into the pillow and, in an almost involuntary gesture, began to purr, as he had not done for a long time. For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Narinder put aside war and revenge, and allowed himself to enjoy a moment of peace. He gently hugged the pillow, the purring becoming softer and softer, until he finally fell asleep, with the peace of memory in his heart.

Without realizing it, Narinder began to dream, and this was not a dream like the ones he had had before, full of chaos and darkness. This time, there was peace, a warmth that enveloped him like a soft blanket. He found himself in a magnificent castle, his brothers absent, and in their place, faceless shadows dancing happily in a large room lit by golden chandeliers. The music that echoed in the air was soft and enveloping, and the tables were full of delicious food.

Narinder, surprised by the strange tranquility of the environment, let himself be carried away by the flow of sleep. Suddenly, he realized that he was not alone. Beside him, the lamb appeared, a calm smile on its face, offering its hand to Narinder in invitation. Without thinking too much, Narinder accepted and they began to dance. It was a fluid, almost natural movement, although Narinder did not remember ever learning to dance. And yet, there they were, spinning in circles, moving effortlessly to the music, as if they had been dancing together all their lives.

The dream took a lighter, more joyful turn. Holding the lamb's hand, Narinder began to laugh, a genuine laugh that came from deep within him, an emotion he had not felt in a long time. They both stopped dancing to run around the room, playing like two carefree children, laughing and jumping. The lamb followed with the same joy, that spark in its eyes that Narinder remembered so well.

Time in the dream was irrelevant. It seemed like an eternity of happiness, and Narinder did not want that moment to ever end. As the music continued to play in the background and the shadows danced around them, Narinder wished with all his being that this moment would last forever. The feeling of freedom, of pure happiness, was something he hadn't experienced in so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.

In that dream, Narinder was not the god of death, he was not an immortal being burdened with the weight of the past and destiny. He was simply Narinder, enjoying the moment, living in a bubble of happiness that had no end. As they continued to run and play, his heart felt light, and although he knew, deep inside himself, that this was just a dream, he decided to give himself over completely to it.

The dream continued to be perfect, and Narinder felt lighter than he had ever been in his life. At some point, the lamb, with that mischievous spark in his eyes, invited him to play hide and seek. Narinder, laughing with genuine joy, accepted and began to walk through the enormous castle, full of endless corridors and elegantly decorated rooms.

When he opened a door in one of the corridors, everything changed. The warm and festive atmosphere gave way to an eerie darkness, as if the air had become dense. In the center of the room, a table illuminated by a dim light had two gift boxes on it.

Narinder stopped in front of the table, his gaze fixed on both boxes. He felt an irresistible pull towards them, as if they were connected to something essential inside him. He wanted, no, needed to possess them both. An almost primal anxiety washed over him; he knew that both held something crucial, something that he, for some reason, could not ignore.

The first box, the one on his right, was red with a golden ribbon that gleamed in the dim light. Without much thought, Narinder opened it. Inside, he found the lamb's red cape, with its bell resting on a soft bed of white wool. Seeing it, he felt a pang of nostalgia and fondness, as if this object symbolized everything he had shared with the lamb. The warmth emanating from this box was comforting, but it also brought with it a reminder of what he had lost in exchange for his freedom.

However, while the box with the golden ribbon gave him comfort, his attention was inevitably diverted to the other box, the one with the silver ribbon. It was different. As he got closer, he felt something darker emanating from that box, a dangerous aura that almost warned him to stay away. But that warning only increased his fascination. There was something about that darkness, that mystery, that called to him with an intensity he couldn't ignore. It was as if the box itself was loaded with the weight of an unknown power, and he wanted that box as much as he had wanted the first one.

There was something unsettling about that feeling. It wasn't an attraction based on comfort or nostalgia, but pure ambition, a need to possess what was hidden inside. He knew it: opening that box could change everything, bring with it challenges and tests that he might not be ready to face. But desire, that insatiable thirst for the unknown and dangerous, was stronger than any internal warning.

Still with that feeling in his chest, his eyes turned to the box. It was purple with a silver bow. Slowly, he opened the lid, and instantly, time seemed to stop. The room fell completely silent, and the darkness deepened. Inside the box was a tarot card, resting on a grey doormat.

Narinder picked up the card and looked at it. It was the purple sword, the same one he had seen earlier in the fortune telling given to him by that duck. An indescribable chill ran down his spine as he saw it. This object did not bring nostalgia or comfort; it brought a warning. It was the path he knew he would have to face, the future he could not avoid. In that instant, the weight of his destiny fell upon him like a slab.

Suddenly, a loud and familiar sound broke the silence: the crowing of a rooster. With a start, Narinder woke up suddenly, the echo of the dream still vibrating in his mind, the scent of lamb wool permeating the air, but now with the heavy certainty of what was to come.

"Shamura..." Narinder said in a muffled voice as he remembered that last moment of his dream.