Ellie stared at the ceiling, her body heavy with exhaustion but her mind still racing. The grand parade had ended hours ago, yet the memory of the crowds—their cheers, their insistent eyes, the way they chanted her name as if it meant something—still pulsed in her ears. Even now, as she lay in the dim quiet of her room at the palace, she could hear echoes of the celebration outside, like the fading hum of bees returning to the hive.

She turned over, the coarse linen of the bed scraping against her arms, but she didn’t care. Anything was better than the suffocating weight of the day’s events. The capital had swallowed her whole, just like Greymire had before, only bigger, louder, and with more banners.

"Slayer of dragons," they called her. "Savior of the kingdom." Words that clung to her like an ill-fitting cloak, too grand for someone who’d stumbled her way through every challenge and narrowly survived on accidents and sheer luck. Ellie wanted to laugh. If they knew how she’d actually defeated that dragon, they would’ve sent her running out of town instead of parading her through its heart.

The mattress shifted beneath her as she rolled onto her side, curling into herself, trying to block out the world. The soft light from the single candle by her bedside flickered, casting long, uneasy shadows against the walls. Haldor’s words replayed in her head: “It’s just part of the game, lass. Ride the wave.” But how long could she keep riding before it crashed down on her? How long until someone realized she wasn’t the legend they wanted her to be?

With a groan, she buried her face in the pillow. I just need to sleep, she told herself. Just a few hours where she didn’t have to think, didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to carry the weight of a lie that had spiraled out of control. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body sinking into the mattress as her thoughts began to slow, her breathing deepening.

Outside, the sounds of the city faded. The world, for a brief moment, stilled.

Then, silence.

*****

The room darkened, the last flicker of the candle extinguishing itself as Ellie drifted into sleep. Her mind, weary from the day, pulled her swiftly into a dream—a strange, fantastical dream that twisted and coiled like smoke.

At first, there was softness. A gentle breeze played through her hair, but something was different. Her hair, long and glowing, seemed alive, shimmering like threads of light. She ran her fingers through it, but as she touched the strands, they moved on their own, twisting into shapes—flowers, birds, even stars. They pulsed with magic.

Ellie frowned, confused. She never had control over magic. The soft hum of power in her hair felt alien, but… also oddly comforting. The birds made of light fluttered out of her hair, their wings beating the air with a faint, musical trill.

"Hello?" she called, her voice echoing in the wide, open space around her. The sky was endless above, a pale blue that shimmered like silk. Flowers bloomed beneath her feet with every step she took, spreading across the ground like a ripple in water. She tried to stop it, but the magic in her hair was relentless, weaving beauty where it touched.

"Why do you look so worried?" came a voice, soft and high-pitched. She looked down and saw a small squirrel sitting on a stump, its tiny eyes sharp and inquisitive.

"Did you just… talk?" Ellie asked, blinking.

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"Of course I did. Don’t you listen to the animals?" The squirrel chittered and hopped closer. "Your magic lets you understand us. You’re very special, you know."

"Special? No, no," Ellie stammered, shaking her head. "I think there’s been some mistake. I can’t—"

Before she could finish, the ground beneath her shifted, the sky darkening suddenly as though a great shadow passed overhead. A figure appeared, looming tall and ominous. He was cloaked in black, his eyes gleaming under a hood. His hands moved with unnatural grace, and Ellie’s heart sank as she felt her body stiffen, her magic hair wilting at the touch of his power.

"You!" the figure hissed, pointing a long, bony finger at her. "You’ve been chosen. But not by me. No, no… they’ll come for you. But you’ll never see them again. You’ll stay with me, in the dark, forever."

The next moment, she felt cold, sinking into darkness as though the earth had opened beneath her feet. The squirrel squeaked in panic, its voice growing faint. "Run, Ellie! Run!"

"I—I can’t!" she gasped, but her legs wouldn’t move. She was trapped, her limbs stiff as if bound by invisible chains. The darkness swirled, and for a moment, Ellie saw herself reflected in a shard of glass—a prisoner in her own dream, her hair limp and dull, her skin pale.

And then, suddenly, a voice cut through the dream. Deep, authoritative, and so stereotypically heroic it made her flinch. "Fear not, fair maiden!"

She blinked, and the shadowy figure was gone, replaced by a towering man with shining armor and flowing golden hair. He stood like a statue of marble, his sword raised high. "I have come to save you!"

Ellie stared, utterly baffled. "Wait, what?"

The man struck a heroic pose, muscles bulging as he stepped closer. "You have been poisoned, kidnapped, and trapped by foul magic. But do not fear—I will slay your enemies and free you from this cursed place."

"But… I don’t need saving," Ellie muttered, feeling an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. She looked at her hands, which now glowed faintly with some forgotten spell. She could feel it—a power that wasn’t hers but still thrummed within her, like an echo from something distant and ancient.

"You misunderstand," the man boomed, completely ignoring her protest. "This is the moment where I rescue you from your plight. All you need to do is watch and—"

With a flourish, he swung his sword, cutting through the air as if the darkness itself were an enemy to be vanquished. Ellie’s hair, once limp, surged back to life, coiling and shimmering, wrapping itself around her arms like protective vines. The animals—there were suddenly so many—rallied around her, all chirping and squeaking encouragement as if they too believed that she was some sort of magical hero destined for greatness.

The man fought valiantly, every step a display of exaggerated strength and valor, but Ellie barely noticed. She felt the magic building in her, growing with every breath. It didn’t feel like hers—didn’t feel real—but here in this dream, she allowed herself, for once, to believe in it.

The battle ended as quickly as it began. The shadow figure lay defeated, disintegrating into mist, while the hero stood triumphantly over the remnants of his foe. "It is done," he announced, his voice full of pride. "You are free."

Ellie blinked again, her mind reeling. The flowers bloomed brighter, the sky cleared, and for a moment, everything seemed perfect.

But something gnawed at her. "Why did you… I mean, how did you know I needed help?" she asked, hesitantly.

The man sheathed his sword with a flourish. "Because, fair maiden," he said with a smile, "heroes always save the day. That’s just how the story goes."

Ellie opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, the dream began to unravel, the world around her shimmering like a mirage, fading back into darkness.

*****

Ellie woke with a start, her heart racing. She lay still, blinking into the shadows of her room, her mind disoriented. The dream had been… ridiculous. And yet, it left a strange, lingering feeling in her chest. Not relief—more like a heavy, unspoken truth she couldn’t quite name.

With a deep sigh, she turned over in bed. Her hair, very much ordinary and limp, tangled under her head. No magic birds, no glowing strands, and certainly no talking squirrels. Just the familiar, quiet darkness.

Ellie closed her eyes again, trying to calm her racing thoughts. At least it was just a dream.