Dreams

Steven drifted into sleep beneath the ash tree, the salty breeze and warm sun pulling him under. His mind slipped into a dream—his old world, stark and gray. He saw himself crippled, bedridden, legs useless, trapped in a stale room. His fingers danced over a keyboard, screens glowing—multiple tabs open, clacking keys weaving this very tale, mouse clicks shaping a Mistveil escape. A story to flee the prison of his body, surreal and vivid—him as the D-rank brawler, fists blazing, a life he’d never lived there. The dream hummed, a strange mirror of then and now.

He jolted awake, the sun lower, shadows stretching long across the grass—a few hours gone, a nap turned deep rest. His hand brushed his belt—the 5-slot bag still hung there, the Dragon Egg safe inside, untouched. No thieves had crept up; the field stayed his. He sat up, rubbing his eyes, the breeze cooler now, and scanned around.

The scene was quiet but alive—not empty nothingness, but a living edge of the Mistveil. The field rolled soft and green, wildflowers—blue mistblooms and yellow gorse—nodding in the wind, the ash tree’s shade a lone island. To the west, the sea glittered, waves crashing against cliffs, gulls wheeling in lazy arcs. Eastward, the forest loomed, dark pines whispering, a faint rustle hinting at saltwolves prowling unseen. North, the hills climbed gentle, dotted with grazing sheep, their wool catching the late light. South, the dunes stretched, sand shimmering, a lone fisherman trudging with a net slung over his shoulder, his silhouette small against the horizon.

No monsters stirred—no goblins, no trolls—just the hum of life, people sparse but present. A pair of kids darted past, giggling, chasing a kite shaped like a crab, its claws flapping. An old woman shuffled by, a basket of tidevine roots on her hip, nodding absently as she went. The emptiness he’d half-expected didn’t hold; this was a borderland, wild yet tethered to the town’s pulse.

Steven stood, stretching, the dream’s weight lingering—his old cripple’s cage versus this free, fierce body. A smile flickered as he dusted off his Stormgull Flyer, the day still his to claim.