《Lord of the Branchless Path》


 Chapter 1: Awaken

    ¡°Life¡¯s a bitch, and then you die.¡±


    That¡¯s what I heard someone whom I didn¡¯t know say, while I was out tending to


    my horse once upon a time. This person¡¯s words would prove to be true time and time


    again over the years, and although I don¡¯t remember this person¡¯s face, nor their voice,


    nor what they had said in addition to that, I can say wholeheartedly that¡­ They have a


    pretty short outlook on life. Or had, as I¡¯d imagine that they would not have been one of


    the lucky few who retain their wisdom in death.


    Perhaps it would be simpler to say that they had a short life. That sounds much


    better, short and sweet. I suppose that¡¯s as opposed to me as I currently am, tall and


    bitter.


    Tall referring to the height of my body of course. What else would I mean by


    that? Looking into the pitch black expanse beyond me, I can only marvel at the afterlife.


    Or lack thereof. I seem to be lying down, which has indicated to me that I am in a


    predicament. I blink my eyes. I¡¯ve never heard of spirits with eyes, thus I can come to a


    conclusion. I am not a spirit.


    This idea is confusing to me, as I remember clearly the day that I died. This


    memory is also the reason for my bitterness. As I recall, it was my own son that did me


    in. With a dagger, no less.


    It hurt so much, being repeatedly stabbed in a variety of places. My son didn¡¯t


    survive that ordeal, though I can¡¯t imagine he suffered nearly as much as I did. When


    his blade had finally pierced my heart, one of my knights burst into the room and lopped


    his head off.


    It¡¯s unfortunate really, he was one of my few sons that I actually liked. He was


    humble, kind and so on. Unfortunately for me as it turns out, he also had a few screws


    loose in his head. Perhaps that¡¯s not an appropriate way to describe it, just as differently


    abled and disabled have a different connotation when used on a person. I suppose that


    it would be better to say that he had his issues. I still loved him though. Right up to the


    moment he died.


    Back to my current situation, I have decided to sit up.


    Or rather, I have decided to hit my head on the hard material above my head.


    Ouch. Perhaps raising the damn ceiling would be an idea that whoever put me down


    here could¡¯ve thought of.


    Alas, your sacrifice was not in vain, poor painless thoughts. Getting a headache


    at a time like this is a wonderful experience, but how can your vision be swimming if


    there¡¯s no light? I certainly have some sense that my vision is swimming at the moment.


    What a disorienting experience, not that I know where I am anyhow.


    I grit my teeth. With that horrible pain in my brain, I finally scan my hands in all


    directions, and immediately detect the reason for my suffering. It¡¯s not just a low ceiling,


    there¡¯s little space between the left wall and the right wall of the enclosed area where I


    am lying down. One important thing to mention, now that I have a general sense of my


    surroundings... I hate small spaces. Hate them. Hate them hate them. I am the fire to


    their water, I am the wound to their salt, I¡­ Hate them. Stupendously. Claustrophobia


    setting in on me, I know only one thing. I must get out.


    I start thrashing as I panic, lashing out with all my might against the dark


    oppression of room that seemed to have built for beings much smaller than I.


    After a while, I calm myself down enough to realize that I¡¯m not hitting anything


    anymore.


    My eyes, which had been shut tight, open. Filled with the manliest tears of


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.anyone I know, they look around.


    There was slightly less perpetual darkness than I was expecting. In sync with my


    scan of the room, green colored torches light up a cavernous expanse, in which I had


    previously been lying in a stretched hexagonal box¡ªoh wait it¡¯s a coffin. The remains of


    a coffin at the very least.


    The base of it was still intact. Under a green luminescence provided by the


    torches, I can see several sparkly pieces of metal which had unique carvings strewn


    across the floor. They are mostly cracked and broken. Oops.


    A relatively intact foot-long black box catches my eye when I take another glance


    at the floor. It¡¯s angled away from me amidst the debris.


    I stand up in the middle of the coffin, realizing at this moment how little comfort it


    had for my poor body. No cushions, no pillows, only a flat surface at the bottom. Hmm.


    Disregarding that, I jump to a spot which seemed to have the least trash on the


    floor in the green light. I still manage to land on a rather sharp piece of wood. I


    immediately shift my weight to the other foot, and brace myself for the pain to come.


    It never arrives though. The feeling of being stabbed which I am so familiar with.


    Curiosity overwhelms me, and I look at my feet with great intent. My skin appears to be


    unpierced, and my bare foot looks as smooth as a river stone. Even on the bottom part


    of it.


    It appears that the sharp piece of wood is not as fortunate as I, as to remain


    unscathed after our contest of strength. In other words, I¡¯m looking at a pile of sawdust


    on the floor where the sharp fellow used to be. Interesting.


    Raising my hand to take a look at it, palm up, the corners of my lips curve into a


    grin at a thought that floats around in my head. I bend down and pick up a piece of


    metal that is twined around a wooden handle with a bunch beautiful sculptures carved


    into it. Slowly, I increase the power of my grip.


    The metal is like soft clay in my hand, easily compressed into a ball with the help


    of my other hand. Somewhere, an artist rolls in his grave. Meanwhile, I move to my


    target, the black box.


    Flipping it over, I see familiar characters formed in a chain that makes a familiar


    pattern. That pattern is my name, and my title. Along with a little message.


    ¡°King Brannon Donnie Daltraesh, the first. May He Rest in Peace.¡±


    That¡¯s nice and all, but I¡¯m still alive.


    What¡¯s got me particularly confused however, is why this box is mostly intact. It¡¯s


    definitely made out of some super-strong material, but I can¡¯t recognize it under this


    green light, which it seems to absorb entirely.


    ¡°Piece of shit¡­¡± I use my voice for the first time since I¡¯ve awakened to curse this


    impenetrable object.


    The torches, which were silent before, suddenly start roaring. Making sounds


    you¡¯d expect from a waterspout, if that waterspout was filled with fuel and set alight,


    they cause another instant headache.


    It doesn¡¯t end there however. The green torches, whose color and dim light I had


    copped with up until now, had their flame transform in an instant. In the time it takes for


    me to take a sharp breath of deep regret, a blinding golden light emits from each torch. I


    slam my eyes shut immediately. My eyelids fail to block the majority of the light, which


    enables me to panic as a circle of darkness extends from the edge of my vision and


    leaves a pinpoint of consciousness, before taking that as well. I faint.

 Chapter 2: Escaped

    My head. Oh god why¡­ Why must my fragile health always be jeopardized by


    these random events?


    My vision is completely dark, and I¡¯m lying down. I am sensing a familiarity


    between this situation and my last.  Wait a second¡­ my eyes are closed. All is not lost!


    I open my eyes and observe my surroundings for the second time in what feels like a


    short while.


    The moon lights up a night sky, along with tens of stars. All around me are trees,


    randomly placed and varying in species. I suppose this is a forest then. I stand up and


    stretch, taking a deep breath of the fresh night air. Wonderful.


    I didn¡¯t realize it at the time, but that place where I woke up previously smelled


    awful. I suppose it was my tomb, but regardless. How could it smell so bad? I didn¡¯t


    even rot! Stale air is one thing, but that stench was indescribable.


    Regardless of the scent of the air out here, I can see pretty darn well considering


    its nighttime. I mean, inhumanly well. I can pick out the texture of a tree that is about 20


    metres away from me, which is protected from the moonlight under the cover of its


    autumn coloured leaves. I can even see colours perfectly in this low light, how peculiar.


    A wind picks up, however I barely feel it press against my skin. There¡¯s no feeling


    of a chill either, I feel just the same as how I did before it started blowing. That¡¯s all fine


    and dandy. I start to appreciate my surroundings even more, until something appears in


    front of me and smacks me in the face.


    I scream in the most macho voice to ever to visit this world, and my hands grab


    towards my face. The thing that smacked me is a very long and wide piece of tanned


    hide, which has been bleached to an almost perfect white. I recuperate quickly, and


    take a look down at the length of white leather. It¡¯s a letter, addressed to myself.


    Dear Brannon,


    I hope this letter finds you well. The fact that you are reading this means that


    the gods have shown true providence towards you. I can only be jealous of


    your grace in both leading our country as a king, as well as sorrowful as this


    is potentially the last message you will receive from me.


    That you have obtained this letter means you have opened the box, and


    activated the teleportation array inside your tomb¡¯s subspace. I don¡¯t know


    where you are now, but I know when you are. You are a millennia past the


    writing of this letter, which should be 2104 A.D. I know not the wonder¡¯s this


    world will bring in the future, but I am glad that you remained undisturbed


    during your rest.


    ¡®How do I still walk this Earth?¡¯ may be a question that flows through your


    mind. ¡®How do you know when I am?¡¯ could be another. The answers are


    simpler than any you could imagine.


    I, along with the society of Galia, used the boon of a thousand years of faith


    to produce a set of nine tokens of unlimited rebirth. Galia being the goddess


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.      of life, whom I imagine you are unfamiliar with considering your atheism.


    Regardless of the details, my dear husband, be glad. Hold your head high,


    for now you are an immortal who rivals the power of a demi-god. That¡¯s right,


    we used one of the tokens of rebirth on you. Fear not of losing it, for it has


    become a part of you. It merged with your soul to ensure that even if your


    body is destroyed, you may continue to exist.


    Also inside the box which we bury you with are many tools I hope will provide


    you guidance on your path of life.


    Live eternally and smile, dear husband.


    Yours,


    Sharlane.


    I¡¯m silent at the moment, having finished reading this letter my wife left me before


    continuing on the journey of life.


    I imagine someone is cutting onions nearby, because the tears won¡¯t stop


    flowing. I feel a storm inside my mind, and the only way the rain is going to escape is


    through my eyes. It never just rains, it pours.


    I gently fold the letter. Out of pure habit, I rub it against my stomach and let go of


    it, a motion that¡¯s supposed to put it into my pocket. I don¡¯t succeed however, and I


    realize for the first time that I¡¯m stark naked as the letter falls to the ground.


    I reach down quickly to pick it up, and also notice for the first time the black box


    which is sitting at my left foot, wide open. I pick up the letter, and the black box.


    Inside the box is a full set of simple clothing, without any of the fanciness that a


    king¡¯s clothing would have. I don¡¯t mind, as given the passage of time, I am more than


    likely to no longer be considered a king.


    I put the clothing on as quickly as I can, and my tears have already started to dry


    up. Also inside the black box, I find a pair of books. One is titled, ¡°Galia¡¯s guide to


    immortality¡±, the other has the title, ¡°Instant Languages for a Millennial Mind¡±.


    I pick up the language book first, and open it up. Instantly, a light brighter than


    the sun flashes at my eyes, and I feel a huge amount of pain in my head, almost forcing


    me into the unconscious realm again. Closing my eyes makes no difference. I grit my


    teeth and bare the pain, and eventually it fades.


    I feel¡­ smarter after having seen that light. Looking down at the book I had


    ¡®read¡¯, it is completely filled with blank pages now. Even the title is gone, I notice as I put


    it down. I look at the other book, not very eager to touch it at the moment.


    I stare at it. It seems to stare at me as well, with huge puppy eyes. ¡°Read me.¡± It


    seems to say. Or perhaps that¡¯s just my instinct telling me to read it, as it seems


    necessary for an ¡®immortal¡¯ such as myself.


    Relenting, I reach over and pick it up by the scruff of its spine. I brace myself


    before cracking it open, and all preparations made, do so. Once again, a light shines


    out, this one however is much more intense. As is the pain, as is the loss of


    consciousness. I¡¯ve fainted so much today¡­


    Author''s Note: Happy Easter! I hope this post formatted correctly.

 Chapter 3: Excursion

    Author''s note: I''m updating the story''s main page, basically what I''m thinking right now is of changing the release schedule. I''m sure someone''s noticed that I haven''t released any chapters for about a month. I ended up rewriting 3 chapters that have been unreleased as of yet, including this one. Thus, there will be three chapters today. With regards to the change in release schedule, it will be changing to ''many a month'' from what it is currently. Basically, I''ll be releasing chapters I complete every month, unless something changes, or the opinion of readers demands otherwise. Thanks for reading!


    TL;DR Changing release schedule to once a month unless something changes.


    -------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    My tutor¡¯s words come to me, a profound thought in the limited realm of my mind.


    ¡°Familiarity breeds contempt.¡± He had once said, bless him. I couldn¡¯t agree more at this moment in time, as I recall the pain of that white light that lead me into an unwilling sleep. It feels like very little time has passed.


    ¡°Call me old fashioned, but I really regret getting knocked out many times in short succession.¡± I try to say, but all that comes out is a long moan. My favourite friend is back, the headache. I hope this isn¡¯t a trend.


    I follow the same procedure as always: open my eyes, look around and so on. I¡¯m in the same forest, in the same spot. The only thing that¡¯s moved on is time, it appears. The sun shines through the multi-coloured leaves of the trees to my right. Above me, I spot some long necked birds flying in a V-formation. Wondering what type of bird it is, I grumble incoherently; a few words meant to be the names of birds from my time were butchered beyond reason.


    Shaking my head, I look back down to the ground. The books both lie on their backs, neither has a title nor content anymore. The letter that I had been holding along with the most recent book lie beside the black box. I pick up the letter and stuff it into the pocket of the clothes I¡¯m wearing.


    After a moment of thought, I decide that I should start moving somewhere, if not to find civilization, then just to get some exercise. Maybe I¡¯ll find the limits of this body of mine, which was able to crush wood to dust.


    Leaving the books behind, I set off at a light jog. I should say, I try to set off at a light jog.


    I take a nice, slow first step to a run that will take me through this forest at a reasonable pace. Instead of running however, I¡¯ve jumped more than 20 metres in the air with just that tiny amount of exertion.


    I scream as I fall down, felling a tree on my way to the ground. Birds in the forest all around me freak out and leave their trees chirping madly.


    Back on the ground, I¡¯m glad to see that the tree I¡¯ve knocked over has a lack of inhabitants. That relief is short-lived however, as I notice the inside of it. It¡¯s crawling with bugs.


    All manner of bugs lived in this tree: beetles, ants and even a few hornets. Regarding the hornets, upon further inspection the ¡®few¡¯ hornets have noticeably increased in quantity, I suppose their hive was inside of this tree. And I just knocked it over. And now they¡¯re flying at me.


    ¡°AH!¡± I scream once more. I kick off the ground, completely panicked. Being afraid of getting stung, I apply my full force to try to get as far away from those angry insects as I possibly can. At a later time, I¡¯ll probably regret doing that.


    Well, the future is now. I¡¯m flying ever higher, the force of me pushing off the ground was sufficient to launch me towards a cloud. At this point, I¡¯m wondering if I¡¯ll fly above it.


    I look over my shoulder to see if the hornets have followed me. I¡¯m not yet free of the memory of their angry stingers, glistening in the light. I can¡¯t help but gasp.


    In an expanding ring, the forest is collapsing towards the point where I just jumped from. In the centre of that point, I have created a crater the size of a hill, roughly 2 kilometres in radius.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Did I do that?¡± I can¡¯t help but wonder. Of course the only thing that could have done that is me. It¡¯s just too unbelievable, this strength of mine.


    Eventually, I reach the peak of my trajectory. The horizon is huge, expanded many times over by my position in the sky. I can see many criss-cross patterns in the forest, lines of grey. In an instant, I deduce that these are roads.


    I can see very clearly many details of down below despite my height, and my eyes follow the roads as they branch off, meeting with what I know is a house. How I know that the object I¡¯m looking at is a house from my new perspective in the sky is beyond me. It¡¯s like I¡¯m being fed this information as I look at things, perhaps there¡¯s a relation to those books I was left with and tried to read.


    I must be at least a kilometre and a half into the atmosphere, and now I¡¯m falling. Down, down, down¡­ I fall faster and faster. It¡¯s a bit concerning, but I don¡¯t feel anxious about falling from this height. I guess it makes sense, seeing as my legs had the ability to send me this high, I guess they wouldn¡¯t have any problem landing.


    I speed toward the ground, feet first. I¡¯m still about three quarters of a kilometre above a new section of the forest fairly distant from my launch point, when a glimmer of light catches my eye.


    Off in the distance, I just barely have enough time to catch a glimpse of some sort of structure reflecting the light of sun. It glints only for a second before it dips under the horizon.


    As I¡¯m about to land on another section of the forest, the sight of the forest broken with a crater in the middle of it flashes in my memory. I have to try to prevent the same cataclysm from befalling where I¡¯m about to land. I angle my body with the flats of my feet pointed toward the ground. The wind is screaming in my ears while I make my approach.


    There¡¯s a moment of dead silence in the forest as I¡¯m about to land, it¡¯s like the creatures of the forest know what¡¯s about to happen and are collectively holding their breath. It is at this time that I land.


    I try to roll as soon as my feet touch the ground, to disperse the force of my fall over the length of the motion. I trip up the movement however, resulting in my head speeding towards the ground with the full force of my fall. Please¡­ No¡­


    My near instantaneous pleading is useless. My head smashes into the ground, which is luckily soft dirt. This does nothing to ease the pain, and as it rushes into my mind, I try to scream. I do not succeed in doing so however, and instead chomp down on a nice mouthful of dirt.


    I can¡¯t open my eyes, my mouth is filled with dirt, but I can move my legs and arms freely.


    ¡°Thank god for this body.¡± I groan in my mind, as speaking won¡¯t do. Really though, if my body was any less durable, I would have died. Guess that¡¯s what comes with being immortal.


    As for the situation at hand, it appears as though I am a dart, trapped in the board of the earth. My head being the needle, I¡¯m just glad my neck didn¡¯t snap at the force of the impact.


    Metaphorically biting down at the pain which still plagues me, I use my arms to push my head free. A sickening ¡°POP¡± sound occurs as I wrench myself from the soil, and I sit down on my backside as soon as I get out. It isn¡¯t a very graceful motion, in which one goes from planking with just the support of one¡¯s head to sitting. I don¡¯t feel proud of myself either, although I am relieved to see that the forest around me is very much intact and brimming with the sounds of life again.


    To reorient myself with the direction of the interesting structure I saw from the air, I look up at the sky. With as few clouds as there are, I¡¯m able to deduce by their layout in the sky that heading toward my right will lead me to the structure. And so, that¡¯s what I¡¯ll do. I should be able to find people near that thing.

 Chapter 4: Lost Memories

    Fire as far as my eyes can see. In it, none are spared; buildings burn, people burn, everything burns. The fire is so hot that the beams of metal which support some of the buildings in my town are melting.


    I lie under the charred remains of my older brother. He had saved me from being crushed by a collapsing wall, pulling me away from it only to have his leg staked to the floor by another falling debris. His eyes were white with terror and his lips were forming indiscernible words as a nearby flame caught on to his clothes, gradually setting him alight.


    Even through all that pain, he managed to save me. He used his kinsi to create a transparent bubble around me, a thin layer that kept me separated from the heat of the flame that consumed him. Finally, after suffering a great amount, he succumbed to his injuries.


    He now lay dead over me, like a charred meat-shield. But this is my brother. He¡¯s dead, and it¡¯s my fault. He died saving me.


    I gently move him from over me, and lay him down on the spot where I was saved by him. I can¡¯t bring myself to look at him, but when I touch his skin to move him I can almost feel it. His pain. His skin is undeniably hot, as though it¡¯s still burning even at this moment. Maybe it is, I just can¡¯t look.


    I have to get out of here. Our home, our town. It¡¯s being burnt to the ground for whatever reason. The flames that are burning aren¡¯t natural either. Could it be that a group of kinsi users beyond the dream stage decided to destroy my home? Why?


    ¡°M¡ªntra!¡± I hear a voice calling. I know that name, I know¡­ Why can¡¯t I remember that name? I can hear a sobbing woman, and a man¡¯s low voice as he whispers something. Finally, I open my eyes. Where am I? Who are these people?


    ¡°Montra! I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re awake now¡­¡± The man says to me.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I blurt out whilst looking at the man, who looks back at me with twinkling eyes. I open my mouth to ask another question, ¡®where am I?¡¯ but before I can, the man asks his own question.


    ¡°Do you not remember us, Montra? We¡¯re your parents!¡± The twinkling in the man¡¯s eyes starts to fade a little bit as he looks for my reaction. I don¡¯t react. I have no idea who these people are. But I guess ¡®Montra¡¯ is my name.


    ¡°Stop it dear.¡± The woman now speaks up, the one who was sobbing before. Her eyes are still red and puffy; it seems like something happened to make her so upset. However, just as I¡¯m about to ask another question, a door slides open and a man wearing a lab coat strides through it.


    Another man walks in, he¡¯s in a white lab coat, and the nameplate on his chest reads¡­ ¡®Dr. Grove¡¯. I make out the name after squinting my eyes, eliciting a chuckle from the man in question.


    ¡°Good thing to see that you¡¯re awake now, Ms. Tannik. We were starting to worry that you wouldn¡¯t manage to wake up today.¡± Doctor Grove says with a laugh. In his hands are some papers attached to a clipboard, he glances at them quickly before looking back at me.


    ¡°Mrs. Tannik, Mr. Tannik, I¡¯m glad to say that your daughter is perfectly alright, given that she has a slight loss of memory as a result of the surgery.¡± He continues. He seems like a nice man; he¡¯s been smiling since he came into what I suppose is my hospital room. But wait¡­


    ¡°Surgery? What did I have surgery for?¡± I ask mildly, I don¡¯t feel as agitated by my unusual surroundings now that I¡¯m confident there¡¯s someone who can answer my questions.


    My parents glance each other in the eyes, seemingly coming to some sort of agreement. The doctor shifts on his feet, before speaking just as my parents open their mouths to say something.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Your surgery was to remove a brain blood clot that was lodged in your brain.¡± My parents closed their mouths and let the doctor speak.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to run some tests, but our analysis shows that you have a high chance of one side effect and only one side effect: memory loss.¡± Both parents let out a sigh at the doctor¡¯s remark.


    ¡°So things that happened to me¡­ I just won¡¯t remember? No friend or family?¡± The doctor nods at my question.


    ¡°But then how can I remember what things are called? How can I still speak English? How can I¡­¡± My mother raises a hand to cut me off.


    ¡°It¡¯s just one of the wonders of the human brain I suppose.¡± She says. I ponder this for a bit, but just as I¡¯m about to argue with her about it, she snaps at me.


    ¡°Instead of doubting what Doctor Grove is saying, why don¡¯t you just be thankful like we are that you can still function?¡± Her expression turns cold for a moment, and all of the sudden I realize that I haven¡¯t been taking into account how she¡¯s feeling about this.


    Some days later, I¡¯ve finished all of Grove¡¯s psychological testing. I had to talk to many specialists, as part of the testing, but now they¡¯re saying I¡¯m all clear to be discharged from the hospital.


    I¡¯ve had more nightmares like the one I remember from when I first woke up in the hospital room. My brother, burnt. My family, destroyed. My home, gone. There¡¯s just one detail that¡¯s missing from all these dreams: people¡¯s faces. Everyone has facial expressions, but I can¡¯t make out their whole face. If I focus, I can see their lips, or their eyes, but I can¡¯t piece them together to make a face. It¡¯s as though there¡¯s a wall that¡¯s preventing me from perceiving further into the nightmare.


    On a different side of things, I don¡¯t remember many things about the world it seems. Not only the people inside of it, but some facts as well. I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw a person flying through the air. A nurse who was attending me at the time watched me crane my neck towards a window to my bland room, chuckling to himself. When I simply asked, ¡®How?¡¯, he responded by saying:


    ¡°Kinsi.¡± I asked him to tell me more, but he shook his head with a sigh.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how people can fly with it. I¡¯m not even a quarter dreamer, the most I can do is lift a grain of sand with mine.¡± His answer had words I didn¡¯t understand, but he doesn¡¯t explain more before he leaves.


    The next day, testing ended and my parents are coming to pick me up from the hospital. Before my parents arrive, the same nurse comes into my room and gave me a book.


    ¡°You were interested in kinsi, have a look.¡± He says. He mentions it was a parting gift from all the staff who helped me as a result of my cooperative behavior, as I open it up.


    The book is titled ¡®KINetic Synchronizing Integration: genetic modification of the 21st century¡¯. The title is a bit long, but I see that inside it had pictures of people flying through the air seemingly unaided, make fire and bright lights out of nothing, and so on. It was basically a picture book with very few words.


    ¡°Thank you so much.¡± I say. This gift means a lot to me.


    We soon part ways, as my parents arrive. I¡¯m on my way towards the home I don¡¯t remember now, a bit nervous and not knowing what to expect.


    ---------------------------------------------------------


    Author''s note: I introduce a new perspective here, in case anyone was confused. This is a new character, in a new setting.

 Chapter 5: The Dream

    Tonight is the first night I have relief from the nightmares involving an imaginary brother. At least, my parents claimed I haven¡¯t ever had a brother. I can¡¯t shake the feeling that he¡¯s a real person, or at least that he was.


    I¡¯m having a wonderful dream in fact. As though I myself am I kinsi user, in my dream I fly through the clouds until the joy in my heart is about to burst and overflow. In the next instant, I find myself burning a pile of wood that I seem to have gathered myself, just like the people depicted in the book I was gifted.


    In this dream, I realize that I am dreaming, unlike during my nightmares. It¡¯s a whole different experience; not at all frightening as I go from one activity to another with my make-believe kinsi prowess.


    After some time, I find myself back in the forest with the pile of firewood lit. For some reason, this setting is much more detailed than it was just a while ago. I feel as though I could go up and touch the trees. I feel strongly as though I could rub leaves against my hands and that I would result in me getting green stains on them. The sun in this place seems to have gone down a long time ago, as the only light is from the fire I know I¡¯ve lit some time ago. On a whim, I look up at the canopy of leaves that form the upper echelons of the forest.


    That which would normally block my view of the stars appears to undergo some sort of movement as I look at it, a very profound movement which I can identify but cannot detect through scrutiny. It¡¯s as though the canopy of the forest has created a gateway specifically for me to observe the night sky, and that¡¯s what I do.


    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful¡­!¡± I can¡¯t help but gasp as it¡¯s revealed to my eyes. Of course, I haven¡¯t forgotten what the night sky looks like because of my surgery. A few stars, the moon, maybe a planet or two on a good night for observing. With that in mind, it¡¯s an understandable reaction for me to be surprised. Simply for the reason that the sky in this dream is different. It¡¯s beyond beautiful,


    I know as I observe further into the colourful lights that fill it.


    First of all, this sky is much different because of its two moons. Whereas the Earth¡¯s sky has a single moon, this dream world¡¯s moon has a sister that is half eclipsed by it. One moon¡¯s colour is a dull whitish-red, as opposed to the bone white of the obscuring one. The only visible blemishes are multiple craters, which add amazing character and texture to the otherwise pure colours of each.


    The second astonishing feature of this sky is the nebulae which are spread before me, visible to the naked eye. I find myself having to be self-reminded that this is indeed a dream. Although there is a surreal quality pervasive throughout the majority of the features of this setting, it has such an attractive beauty that I¡¯m more convinced that this is reality as opposed to that of my life on Earth. All I need now is someone to recognize me here, to talk with me here, and I¡¯ll never want to leave.


    Snapping me to attention, a sudden movement in the corner of my ethereal vision distracts me from my thoughts.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°A shooting star!¡± I mouth the words. It is indeed a shooting star, and a very bright one at that. The star speeds across the night sky, looking to be on a collision course with the image of the moons.


    Just as it is about to cross over them however, a peculiar situation occurs. As though the moon was a black hole with endless pulling force, or perhaps like a vacuum that simply sucked up the shooting star, what crossed its light never made it to the other side. I watch the shooting star simply vanish.


    I remain in my place in the middle of the forest, my mouth feeling as though it was hanging open as wide as a snake with an unhinged jaw.


    ¡°Where?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but blurt out. Where did the star disappear to, as it streaked across the sky? At this moment, the immersion in the dream is gone, as the impossibility of the whole place begins to irk me. Perhaps it¡¯s unreasonable, this feeling of mine. A dream is a dream, and this is a beautiful dream at that. But it still isn¡¯t real. It can never approach the splendor of reality, despite me experiencing things that I can only imagine in my real life.


    Suddenly, the sky lights up. I gasp as a number of shooting stars I can only guess at light up the sky. Looking up at it, it draws such a powerful emotion from me that I feel tears running down my face. It¡¯s almost like the sky is crying golden-white tears, crying along with me. I can feel the stars, as they streak on through the night. I reach up my hand, trying to be just a little bit closer to the sky that cries along with me. All of the shooting stars are moving closer to the moons, which are still placed high above me. I try to call out to them, to tell them to stop. They don¡¯t hear me, and continue.


    They are about to reach the star-devouring moon; my eyes are glued on it in terror. At that moment however, instead of following their path into the gaping jaws of the moonlight, they begin to veer of course. Like a stream of water avoiding a mountain, they swirl around the moon. It¡¯s a beautiful scene, and as I witness it, I feel a joy I cannot supress. I don¡¯t even try to.


    Even more stars begin moving, having appeared from all around the horizon at this time. They streak towards the center of the sky where the moon resides. Upon reaching the ring formed of the previous shooting stars flowing distantly around the moons, they bounce off of it. Seeming to gain a will of their own upon hitting the ring around the moons, they begin to swirl as well.


    All I can do is watch the phenomenon occur, my mouth hanging open. It¡¯s surreal. It¡¯s otherworldly, unfit for a dream of a mortal such as myself. That¡¯s all I can believe at this point.


    The dancing of the stars lasts for a while, until all that I can see is something that stuns me, the stars having formed something in the sky. Words.


    ¡°MONTRA, THIS IS YOUR HOME.¡± It reads. And below that¡­


    ¡°MONTRA, THEY ARE LYING TO YOU.¡±