The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

Termus lunged forward, sword arm outstretched, a half smirk gliding across his lips. He knew he had him. Sword Master Pentus’ eyes widened, his body frozen for just a second. He then tucked his shoulder and slid swiftly under the blade, stepping in close enough for Termus to see the aging chinks in his armor. Pentus never lifted his head, but in one fell swoop, he bashed Termus right in the gut with his plated shoulder. The crunching blow landed and Termus felt the wind being forced right out of his lungs. He got knocked back, but managed to remain on his feet.

“Come on, Termus, you’re better than that. If I were a Nagerian solider, you’d be dead right now.”

The boy named Termus stopped for a second to catch his breath. The embarrassment he felt was unimaginable. He could feel the eyes of his peers watching all around him, judging him and his mediocre swordplay. Here he was, the last day of combat training, a potential graduate at the Academy, and he can barely hold his sword up anymore. His right arm felt too heavy to carry the damn thing.

I’m not done, he thought. Not yet. I can try one last thing. He adjusted his grip on the sword, mustering his remaining strength to keep it steady. And forward he ran at full speed, holding the blade outstretched behind him.

Pentus braced, and brought his sword up to eye level, face as stoic as a statue. The two swords just feet from each other and that smirk came across Termus’ face again. He flipped his sword behind his back, grabbing it with his left hand. Still charging, he spun the blade in a full circle like a sharp windmill.

Ahh…much better, he thought. He could see Pentus try to shift his stance to counter, but it was far too late. Termus spun around fully, swift as the wind, and tapped his opponent’s sword with his, pushing the Master's entire sword arm up and away.

“Checkmate,” he whispered with his blunt blade pressed against Pentus’ throat.

All Termus could hear was his heavy breathing inside his helmet, but he could see people clapping and cheering from all around him. He smiled modestly beneath his faceplate and canvassed the crowd for his brother. He’s got to be here somewhere, he thought.

Pentus began clapping with the small crowd, drawing Termus’ gaze to him. Is he actually praising me? He had always remembered Pentus being a bit rough around the edges, but it was something Termus admired about the jagged man. His skills with a sword was legendary, but even more legendary was his ability to teach. He had always been a proud man and he never admitted defeat, even to his pupils. Yet here he was...

“Yes, Termus. Use your own abilities to your advantage, keep your opponent guessing. That ambidexterity of yours is quite a troubling thing to face off against.”

“You think so?” Termus said, removing his helmet and tossing it under his arm. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud of the praise. “I’ve been thinking about trying two swords.”

“You mean dual wielding?” Pentus walked up to him and clasped a hand over his shoulders, chuckling slightly. “Son, you might want to try mastering one sword before you attempt to pick up a second.”

“Hey, come on, don’t you think I’ve already proven my mastery over the sword? I did beat you, after all.”

“Look at me,” he said, spinning Termus on his shoulder to stare him dead in his sullen, brown eyes. “I’ve been here a long time, training ambitious boys like yourself. You’ve been using that toy in your hand since you were fourteen. What makes you think playing at sword fighting for three years makes you a master, huh boy?”

Termus stared at Pentus, his scarred, aging skin reflecting beads of sweat off of the bright sunlight. Still beat you, didn’t I? Termus thought sourly.

“Do you think you’re the first ambidextrous swordsman to enter this Academy? Sure as shit not. And you won’t be the last either.” Pentus pushed him back roughly with his arm and stormed past, back toward the main hall.

Termus didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, he felt furious at his tutor. How dare he question my own integrity and doubt my skill? He thought. But I guess I can’t help but agree with the man…He was right, after all. I may be good, but I’m nowhere near his level. One win doesn't make me a master...

Termus started scanning the crowd again. He’s gotta be here somewhere...The little bastard never strays too far, he thought, laughing to himself. Then he heard it. Right in the center of the crowd, yelling and jeering, laughing and steel clanking. He could see a group of students spread into a large circle. Not again…he thought.

Termus approached the crowd, hearing students cheering and laughing. He pushed through the sea of black robes to see his brother’s brown leather sliding left to right. He’s at it again, Termus thought. When will he learn that he can’t face multiple enemies and win?

“Gnove!” He called out. “Cut it out or the officers will see you.”

His brother didn’t flinch, let alone notice him but Termus could feel the tension in the air. Three swords were swinging around, trying to hit his younger brother. But...they weren’t though. Termus shoved another student aside to get a better view and all he saw was Gnove’s eyes darting back and forth between the swords, his body darting alongside them.

His brother has always been a lot more agile than him, but Termus’ mastery at fighting with both hands helps him win every time they spar. I don’t know how he does it, Termus thought. How the hell can he dodge every single swing from all three of them?

Gnove was sliding between the swords like a snake, holding nothing in his hand but a small buckler shield. Even when he didn’t dodge the swings, he let them slide off of his shield like butter. For a minute, Termus forgot where he was. Nothing mattered but watching his brother dart back and forth in brown leather like some sort of apparition. He could have sworn a few of them hit Gnove but it must have just been his own eyes playing tricks on him.

“What is the meaning of all this?” A voice bellowed out over the crowd. The cheers and laughing fell silent as students were violently shoved aside to make way for a large, towering man dressed in a full white breastplate. He stopped at the edge of the students and threw his dangling white and gold cloak to the ground. Gnove stumbled and fell face first onto the cobblestone terrain, the other three students throwing their swords with a clang and immediately kneeling in a line in front of the officer.

“You, boy!” the man said as he pointed to Gnove. “State your name.”

Gnove sat backwards on the ground, rubbing his now bleeding forehead. “Ow…Gnove…” He then paused before adding “Sir.”

The man glared back at him, displeased. “Gnove…what?”

Gnove looked up at him and shook his head slightly. “Um…Just Gnove,” he said.

A few students started giggling and laughing throughout the crowd and Termus could feel the officer's anger swelling. The man said nothing. He just walked up to the students and shoved the three aside, standing almost on top of Gnove.

“Do you think this is funny?”

Gnove looked up at him, blank expression plastering his face. “No, sir.”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” the man yelled. Gnove tucked his head in fear.

“I don’t have a last name, sir. It’s just Gnove.”

The man turned around to face the crowd of students. “Who sanctioned this little sparring match here? Pentus?”

No one said a word. The students all looked as scared as Gnove. The three students that were fighting him had all tucked themselves back into the crowd with only Gnove and the officer standing in the arena.

“Undisciplined children, the lot of you.” The man said. “What kind of academy do you think this is? A political academy? a baking academy? A gods damned children's playpit?” He paused for a minute, scanning the crowd. “NO! This is a military officer academy designed for teaching every one of you underdeveloped weaklings how to fight and PROPERLY represent the Great Handilian Province.”

He pointed his hand toward Gnove, still looking at the crowd. “Is THIS how you represent your province? By having unsanctioned fights and PLAYING at war?”

The whole crowd whispered in unison. “No Sir.”

“What?” he yelled.

The crowded repeated louder. “No Sir!”

“You all think this is a place for laughter?” His lips pursed. “When you’re out on the real battlefield, and your fellow students are dropping like flies around you, there won’t be any laughter. The only thing you’ll be thinking is that you’re glad it wasn’t you. Trust me, I know.”

The crowd was as silent as a crypt. “Every last one of you are training to become an officer. They will decorate you and hand you your badge and your pistol and you will be expected to LEAD! And I can tell you right now, if any of you were my commanding officer, I would turn and shoot you first on the battlefield. Gods damned the chain of command!”

Termus looked over to Gnove, still sitting there with his head bowed. “Now clean yourselves up, you have ten minutes to grab your shit and get out of my academy. You will be back in the morning for your written exams.”

He plowed through a pile of students again and back toward the main hall. As the crowd started dispersing, Termus walked over to his brother and helped him up.

“I hate that man,” Gnove said as he hoisted himself up.

“He is right, we are all going to be leaders soon and none of us are really ready.”

“Well the Legion is in short supply of leaders so they need all the help they can get,” Gnove said. “I know I’m ready!”

Termus felt slightly annoyed and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. “You’re kidding me…You were the cause of all of this.”

Gnove shook his head vigorously. “THEY asked me if I wanted to spar.”

Termus scoffed as they started to walk towards the gate leading to the rear fighting pits. “I know that’s a lie. You're always the one picking the fights, asking people to spar. And in no armor...Why don’t you use a sword at least? You know you can’t win a fight by just dodging and parrying.”

Gnove smiled. “I know…but I don’t need to use a sword or armor. I’m good enough without them.”

Termus laughed and smacked Gnove on his bloody forehead. “You might have not gotten that if you were using armor.”

Gnove flinched and rubbed his wound. “Ouch! Now I’m going to have to steal some of Frank’s herbs to make ointment for this. Ahhh...sure does sting.” He paused for a second and looked over to Termus. “Oh, speaking of that, I was testing out some different reagents together and I found one that you’re really going to love!”

Termus rolled his eyes. “Oh great, you want me to be your swamp rat for your damn experiments again.”

“No, seriously, you have to try a few of them out and let me know what happens. I think I got it right this time."

They opened the gate to a much larger sparring arena and stepped down into the pits. Termus always loved taking in the locale here. A miniature coliseum sat in the back of the academy, complete with a small fighting pit at the bottom and a few layers of seats for onlookers.

Gnove looked down into the pits to see a man standing his ground against 5 enemies, all with blunted swords. “I thought Dunham would have been done by now…" he said. "He spends almost all of his time in there, just training. I fail to see how he even has any time to study.”

A burly, lumbering student stood tall, staring face to face with five other fighters in the pit. Their swords hacked and slashed away. Termus could hear Dunham’s grunts bellowing underneath his mud-covered helm as he took each sword head on, smashing and flailing around the arena. He wasn’t very good at dodging the attacks, he thought. But by the gods, he doesn’t even need to.

His eyes were fixated on Dunham, his oversized arms hoisting one of the men clear up above his head and tossed him effortlessly off to the side, the man wailing loudly until he hit the ground with a thud. The other four charged all at once, yelling out rally cries.

Gnove leaned over to Termus’ ear. “You’d think they would have learned their lesson by now. Dunham is unstoppable.”

Termus said nothing but walked over to one of the rows of seats and sat down. Dunham was swinging his large hammer back and forth and Termus couldn’t help but think the barbaric weapon he’s wielding could do some serious damage, even if it was just a training tool.

Before he knew it, all four of the men were lying on the ground, each yelling “yield” as Dunham aggressively approached them. Termus could feel the passion Dunham had, the aggressive drive to fight and keep fighting. But for a second, Termus felt like he needed to stand up and yell to Dunham to stop. It was getting out of hand.

Then, Dunham howled out laughing and reached his hand out to one of them. He hoisted the man up onto his feet again. “That was a proper fight!” he said between bellows of loud, burly laughter. He patted his sparring partner on the back so hard, it nearly knocked him over again.

The man said nothing but laughed faintly and continued trying to catch his breath. Dunham took his helmet off and threw it on the ground, letting out a satisfied sigh. His dark brown hair was drenched in sweat and dangled over his shoulders like a wet mop. His bronzed skin shined in the sun through a layer of sweat. He turned to where Termus was sitting and looked up.

“Termus!” he yelled as he started barreling toward the gate.

How does he still have that much energy left? Termus thought. He can remember when they use to spar back in the day. Of course, ten years old was too young to play with weapons, even blunted ones. They used their fists. Termus had never once been able to beat the brute, no matter how hard he tried. For a long time, Dunham had been the driving force behind what made him get better. He was the one thing that pushed him to become stronger.

“That was fantastic!” He heard Gnove cry out from behind him. “Termus, did you see how he crushed all of them?”

“Uh...I was watching too, Gnove,” Termus said as he shook his head slowly.

“I know! It was amazing! All of those guys had to be twenty-five, maybe older and you took them all on like it was nothing.”

Termus felt a hand clasp his shoulder and shook him nearly half to death. “Your brother is going to be my biggest fan no matter how famous I get.”

Termus smiled and looked up at Dunham, still slightly dazed from being shook. “All this time and I haven’t seen you change one bit…” he paused, smirking slightly. “Still just as bloodthirsty as ever.”

“You bet your arse I am, those bastards had it coming.” He bellowed. “I heard old man Cram yelling about some nonsense a few minutes ago. What was he squabbling about?”

“Gnove got into another unsanctioned fight in the courtyard. He had to step in and break it up.”

Gnove ran over and sat down behind Termus, grinning ear to ear. “I took on three of them, Dunham! You should have seen it. They couldn’t even touch me!”

The giant brute laughed again and leaned against his hammer, now standing upside down against the stone floor. “And did ye even land a single blow on any of them?”

Gnove paused for a second and Termus could see his brother squinting his eyes a bit, thinking. “Well…no,” he said slowly.

“Ye know, ye can’t win a fight just by sliding around all fancy-like.”

“Termus said the same thing…”

“Aye, that’s because Termus knows that you need to be able to crush skulls when you see the chance.”

Termus had always known Dunham to be very aggressive in nature but he has always been a friendly kind of man. In fact, despite all of his loud talk and aggressive behavior, Dunham has never actually killed anyone. That’s not to say that he couldn’t. The man was one and a half times the size of an average fighter, and three times more aggressive in the ring.

He felt an elbow nudge his back. "By the way," Gnove said. "How's that problem of yours going, Term?"

Termus froze. That tireless sense of dread creeped up his spine once again. He didn't even want to think about it, let alone talk about it to them. "Not much better..."

Dunham had taken the seat next to him, his face growing more perplexed. "Ya know," he said. "Everyone has dreams...hell, I have 'em every night. Sometimes, they's similar. Like, sometimes, I wake up and I think to meself, 'damn, I think I had this dream before.' You's not the only one."

Termus never liked talking about his dreams, or rather...dream. "I can't even remember when I started having it, but everyone else talks about having different dreams. Sometimes they're good, sometimes they're not. I don't have that."

He clenched his fist. I've explained it to them a thousand times, he thought. They never understand. Instead of reiterating himself again, he asked, "do you think dreams have actual meaning? Like...I don't know, a cry for help, or...something...?"

Gnove looked puzzled. "Term, they're just dreams. I've read that sometimes, it's your inner mind trying to say something to you. But no one's trying to reach out to you through your own head. Sounds a bit crazy, doesn't it?"

He didn't know why, but he felt a frustrating rage building quickly. He slammed his fists heavily against his legs and felt a wave of pain run through his thighs. But he ignored it. "Do you know how it feels to be afraid to go to bed every night? I lay in bed for hours every single night, afraid of falling asleep and having to relive it."

Dunham's armor clanged heavily and he turned his shoulders. "Wait, you have the same exact dream every night?"

"I don't dream every night, but when I do, it's always the same. Every time I lay down, I pray to whatever Gods that will listen to me. Pleading for them to let me make it through one more night," Termus was shaking uncontrollably. He couldn't tell anymore if it was rage or frustration, or...fear.

The dream had always haunted him, plagued him, as far back as he could remember. The same exact dream. Even when he was a child, he remembered waking up in a cold sweat, like it was real. Everything about it was so vivid. He had heard about nightmares before, but from what other people say, they are usually of horrible things, grotesque things...things that would actually scare you. But this was different. Nothing in the dream was all that scary or grotesque. Some parts of it were actually quite beautiful. So why did he always wake up shaking uncontrollably? Why did it always make him feel so frighten and lost...and alone...?

"This dream has to have a meaning," Termus said. "There's gotta be something more. I don't care what it takes, I'm going to put a stop to this. I need to know what it feels like to sleep in peace, to be happy to be in bed at the end of the day. I'm going to figure out why I have the same dream over and over and why it continues to haunt me. I don't care what it takes!"

Gnove tilted his head slightly. "Term, I admire your guts, but it's just a dream. You won't find meaning in something that doesn't actually have any. And where the hell would you even start looking?"

Dunham shrugged, clasped his hand on Termus' shoulder once again and said, "Ya know I always got yer back if you need me, but looking for a dream...I don't know how I'd even begin helpin' ya do summin' like that."

I can't be too mad at them, Termus thought. They haven't seen the things I have. If they did, I'm sure they'd be saying the same thing I am. But I WILL find out what it all means, whether it's with their help or not.

Dunham stood up and hoisted his hollow training hammer above his head and over his shoulders. “Now if ye don’t mind, I’m ‘bout to find meself a bath of some sorts. Can’t go to the ladies smelling like horse shit and armor sweat, now can I?”

Before he could walk away, Termus grabbed his giant wrist. “Oh...by the way, you know the exams are tomorrow, right? Aren’t you going to go home and study?”

Dunham shook him off of his wrist and grunted.

“Listen, I know you’re a great fighter and all but you can’t become a Legion Officer without passing those exams.”

Dunham mumbled incoherently and walked away without saying another word.

“Ahhh…he’ll be fine,” Gnove said from behind. “He’s been taking the damn things every year for the past three. I’m sure he’s got the questions memorized by now.”

Termus cracked a small smile as he stood up and started walking with Gnove toward the outer gates. “You know, there’s a reason he’s been taking them year after year.”

"He isn't too bright, is he?" Gnove said, laughing.

The sun had gone down by the time they reached the cobblestone streets outside and began walking home. Termus wanted nothing more than to head home and lay in his bed. Not sleep, of course, but just lay there and unwind. With all this rigorous training, he was always too tired after the day was over to want to do anything else but relax. As he walked, Gnove was going on about one plant reagent or another but in truth, he wasn't paying that much attention. His gaze was fixated on the sky above him. There was not a cloud to be seen. A large curved belt jetted diagonally across the sky, bathing everything he saw in a yellow hue.

Theonax’s Ring, he thought. I never get tired of seeing that. Gnove seemed to have noticed it now too as he abruptly stopped walking to stare up at it.

Gnove just stood there as if everything else in the world meant nothing. “You know,” he said. “I read in a book somewhere that there are other worlds out there, just like us, except they don’t have a ring that circles the planet.”

“Really?” Termus said.

“Yeah. I read somewhere that some worlds have other, smaller worlds circling around them, never ending. Just constantly spinning for eternity.”

Termus tilted his head in disbelief. “That sounds like you made it up. How would that even work?”

Gnove shrugged his shoulders and laughed. “I doubt it’s true, but it’s funny to think about.”

He caught up to Termus again and paced himself to stay beside him. “What kind of other worlds do you imagine are out there if that sounds so fake?”

Other worlds, huh? Termus thought. He walked, puzzled at the thought, trying to dance around ideas in his head that would make logical sense. After a long silence, he looked over at his brother. “I can’t begin to imagine it. Everything that I know is encapsulated in this world. This is my one truth. Who really knows if anything outside of here exists? Definitely not me. And to guess how exactly they would exist would be very pretentious of us.”

Gnove tilted his head a bit and rolled his eyes. “Why can’t you use smaller words so that the dumber people of the world can understand what you’re even talking about.”

Termus laughed and threw his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “You always know how to ruin a moment, don’t you, Gnove?”

__________

They arrived a short time later at a large, towering house. Its sides and faces were covered with a dark tan, its white wooden beams and pillars standing sturdy against the weathered walls. Out front, a wooden fence blocked their way, vines sprawling and choking every inch of the wood. They pushed open the gate and in they went.

“Termus, please don’t tell him about the fight,” Gnove said as he walked up the marble stone steps of the front porch.

Termus put his hand up to his chin and stared at him thoughtfully. He then smirked and said, “Ahh, but alas, there’s your dilemma. I could tell him and send him spiraling into a rage of stern lessons for you, or I could say nothing and let him live in bliss.”

“Come on!” Gnove said, nudging his brother a bit. “There is no reason to say anything. Be serious.”

Termus looked over at him, the smile fading from his face. “Listen to yourself, Gnove. Frank is one of the Legion Councilors. He’s is one of the highest ranking officials that they have to offer. What makes you think Cram wouldn’t tell him?”

Gnove sighed exasperatedly as he opened the front door, hesitating a moment before he walked in. Termus could remember the same look on his brother’s face every time he gets into trouble. He always seems to have a knack for finding it. A world of ideas floating in Gnove’s head, and he’s too stupid to realize them because he always has to be the rebel. It’s like he does it on purpose.

Before the door was even half open, Gnove looked terrified as a bellowing voice echoed from the house, bleeding into the streets. “YOU BOTH! IN THE PARLOR, NOW!” Termus could feel the eyes of all his neighbors staring over at him, even if he wasn't particularly sure they were even there.

Termus knew no matter how wrong Gnove was for fighting in the courtyard, he had to stand up for his younger brother. They both made their way in the house, closing the door and heading toward the parlor. The yellow light from Theonax’s Ring beamed through every window, emitting an eerie glow, but Termus couldn't see any candles lit through the halls. The servants must have all been sent away. Every step was a dreadful one. Oh, how he hated when Frank would yell or discipline them. It always seemed a bit excessive.

The candles in the parlor were lit, a large, red chair sitting neatly against the wall, a skinny man in a white robe occupying it. He always has to sit so...dignified. Like he always has to be in control. As usual, he said nothing as the boys walked into the room. Termus took the closest chair, sitting opposite of Frank. He had always been a tall man. He even towered over Dunham. His size was not met with large muscles, though, as Frank’s physique was a lot more slender and lanky. Sickly looking, even. He was well beyond his fighting days, a man of sixty-three years, but an accomplished duelist at that. His thin size allowed him to be agile and quick, sudden and deadly. Despite his slenderness, he always had a knack for being the most intimidating man in the room, and he never seemed scarier than when he was directly upset with someone.

Gnove immediately collapsed to the floor and knelt before Frank, his head bowed. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to have that fight. It was wrong of me and I promise it will never happen again.”

Frank leaned forward, closed fists resting under his chin. “Remind me again what you boys are training to become.”

Termus looked down to his brother, still kneeling. “We’re training to become Legion officers,” Gnove said.

“Correct. And how have you learned to behave if you hope to become an officer?”

“With glory and dignity,” Gnove recited.

Termus remembered those words in the academy read to them over and over. With almost every sentence in the first year of training they needed to repeat them again and again. He could see the beads of sweat dripping down Gnove’s face.

“Correct again. Now, what stupidity led you to think that in the final day of training, you would blatantly disobey your orders from a superior?” His voice grew louder with every word.

“I…well…didn’t…” Gnove began saying.

“Quiet! That was rhetorical. Now is the time for listening. I paid good money to see you boys through the academy and make sure you furthered the cause. I may not be your real father, but I picked you both up as orphans and raised you to the ranks you are now. I brought you into the Legion at a risk to my own reputation as a Council member. I will not have my good name tarnished because the two of you would rather act like fools than proper officers, do you both understand?”

The boys yelled out in unison. “Yes, Sir!”

Frank sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head a bit. “What am I going to do with you two, huh?”

Termus shrugged.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Gnove said as he stood back up and took the seat next to his brother.

“Did you at least give them a good ass whooping?”

Termus smirked as he watched his brother’s confused facial expression. Feeling a rush of relief wash over him, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing. Frank’s scoldings can get a lot worse than that. They were lucky this time. Maybe he’s got something else on his mind…Termus pondered.

“Come on boys,” Frank said as he stood up from his chair. “The cooks should be just about done with dinner. Fried lamb and carrots tonight.”

Gnove looked up at Frank. “Sir, after dinner can I work on my alchemy studies?”

“Of course,” Frank said. “Make sure you boys go to sleep at an earlier time. Exams are early in the morn. I will be spending the night at the Great Chamber Hall tonight so I will not be here to see you off to bed. I trust that you two are old enough to figure it out on your own.”

Sleep...Termus thought.

__________

After dinner, Gnove went off to do his studies in the botanical garden and Termus headed upstairs to relax in his room. There was a certain tranquility he felt from spending time in his room by himself. Some nights, he wouldn't even do anything but lay in his bed, looking out at the night sky. This happened to be one of those nights.

As he laid down, the dreaded thoughts came stampeding back. He could almost feel his body temperature drop. He had dreamt that horrid 'nightmare' only a few nights ago. Every time he did, he would always be jolted awake in his bed, feeling empty, dark and alone. Cold Days, he started calling them. The days where he wouldn't sleep more than an hour or two, then lie in bed shaking and damn near crying until the sun came up. Naturally, the following day would be nothing but hell. They might be random, but they usually only happen about once a week, he kept telling himself. Once a week isn't all that bad...

In truth, the dream was never always the exact same. Sometimes, he would see islands. Sometimes, he would see mountains. And sometimes, he would see nothing. Regardless of where he started, he always remembered ending up in the desert, feeling the violent, sandy wind pelt his face as he trekked across the dunes. He remembered carrying a satchel filled with what felt like metal, so heavy, it made his back ache just thinking of it.

Off in the distance, he could see a city. A large metropolis in the desert, made of sandy buildings and dry walls, the sporadic trees getting thrashed about by the sandstorms. He was approaching this metropolis, always thinking the same thought.

“I’m home,” he said aloud in his bed.

As he approached the city, he remembers the sounds the people made. Still a league away, yet he so clearly heard the screams as if they were right in front of him. Then he saw the light. A blinding purple light that filled the night sky with an eerie glow. It kept growing and growing until the entire city was bathed in violet.

He remembers thinking to himself, “What happened to my home?” He picked his pace up and found himself at a sprint. He could feel the tears streaming down his cheeks, falling off his chin and getting swallowed by the sand.

But it was always the same every time. He had never reached the city. He would always be violently woken up before he could. Why did he always feel like he was losing his life? Why did he feel like everyone he had every loved was ripped from under him? Why did it feel like he would be alone forever?

Termus shuddered, closing his eyes. Hours had passed as he dwelled on that dream in his room before slowly drifting off to sleep, praying to the gods that tonight would be better.