Broken Glass - Taekook

DREAM #3

The next thing I know, it feels like I'm floating, drifting in the air, amongst the clouds. My eyes are closed, my body totally relaxed, each limb a dead weight. But there's something so comfortable about it, the way I'm able to just lie here, not moving or thinking. It gives me a chance to think about my progress, and what lies beyond the horizon. 

In just a few days, we found our way to a safe location, hidden from the Karulian Knights, from the king's soldiers, from the rest of Eithyr. It's not perfect, and I doubt that I'd be able to stay here forever, but it's a place for us to recollect our thoughts. It's a place to convene, to get to know each other and to trust each other. It's a place to heal, from my origin in this world, from the messy reality of life here. 

I still don't know how to fix things, or even how to defeat the king. I don't understand everything yet. But this is a chance to pause, to think, to consider our options. 

I'm going to need the support of the magical creatures of Eithyr: the faeries are just the beginning, despite their obvious influence over other groups. I'll need my companions to travel by my side. I'll need Aphelia, tirelessly keeping watch over us so that we are never caught in an ambush. 

This is so much bigger than just me. I may be the Saviour, but this will take more than a one-man army. This is a kingdom taking back control of its own existence, magic itself righting the wrongs of those who want to destroy it and replace it with something that only takes. Something that only ever kills. 

In my mind, I see the valley we're resting in for the week, the tumbling water shimmering pale gold in the light of a rising sun. Hoseok kneels down, beside the pool, his eyes turned amber. A lump of silvery material materialises at his feet, as if lifted from underground. The compass tattoos on his wrists glow a deep yellow, and the material blurs into the shape of a sword blade.

Jimin appears beside him, holding a hilt carved with intricate designs. His deep blue wings flutter in a gentle breeze, and his eyes are glowing the blue of his wings. One hand is raised to shoulder height. An eagle perches on his first two fingers, beak wide open in a loud call. 

Above, the whistles and calls of other birds echo, and the trees shake as if given their own consciousness. It's almost like they're responding to it all. 

The two parts of the sword are joined, and then Hoseok holds it up to the light, turning it round and round to inspect it properly. Light bounces off of the blade, the reflections dancing around them like fireflies, a celebration of the work required to pull off such a complex feat so quickly.

I see Jimin smile, the expression wide and genuine. Hoseok sets down the sword in the sun, cupping his hands round his mouth to call to the rest of us, inform us that it's done. 

Just as he does, the image flickers. Something changes, and then my eyes seem to open on their own. The scene changes.

Now I'm floating just beside the tower of Shylrennor, staring directly into its shadowy features, into glassless windows that glare out at the world like ghostly eyes. The crumbled stone bricks seem more ruined than it was when we came here, and jagged cracks run below the windows like tear stains. 

The cracks widen, splitting the tower in half and making it fall in on itself. Out of seemingly nowhere, the entire structure collapses. A hundred feet of stone drop to bare earth with a thunderous clap, and the ground itself shakes with the impact. 

A figure jumps onto the top of the rubble, dressed in a long black cloak that brushes the ground. On both arms, the picture of a blood red sacrificial knife is just visible, and the hood is lined with a thin layer of the same dark red. Around their waist, the figure wears a crimson leather belt, and their hands are covered by black gloves. They're looking from side to side, seemingly searching for something. 

Within the shadows of the hood, I catch sight of two glowing balls of scarlet, where the eyes would be. Even though I'm not the target of their gaze, I can sense the madness swirling within a mind comprised of cold calculation and burning rage. Where the two collide, a storm is forming, a tempest that will sweep over the entire kingdom and destroy everything in its path until the only thing that remains is death. 

From the belt at their waist, the figure draws a sword, the blade wickedly sharp, still dripping with fresh blood, holds it upright with both hands in front of them, stands in the pose for a moment, as if gathering energy. The weapon is then sheathed on the figures back, and they hold up a closed fist. 

From high up above, a crow caws, a harsh scream from somewhere I can't identify. It flies into view, spreads out its wings to slow its descent, and then lands delicately on the figure's hand. 

In the background, as they stand on the decimated ruins of Shylrennor, a familiar mountain fades into view, the cap reaching into the clouds higher than I can see. The chillness of this desolate place fades away, and I'm left with the warmth of the golden river, coursing through my veins. 

The mountain range rushes in, as the figure and Shylrennor disappears from view, and I'm taken through the forest. My consciousness passes over Hazelpoint, through a low valley, to Taju k'Eithyr. The Crown. 

I close my eyes, on some impulse, and then my fingers and toes move, sending a jolt of electricity through my entire being. As the rest of my body wakes up in a similar way, the warmth washes over me once more like a wave, passing me the energy I need to function. The energy I need to be the person this kingdom needs me to be.

The symbols from the mirror I carry in my pack flash bright white in the darkness of my eyelids, branding an after-image in the darkness. 

I hear my name being called, from somewhere else, and my eyes open once more, into the world of consciousness.