Cilen didn't like dreams.
Correction.
Cilen didn't like nightmares.
He never really had a problem with nightmares, however, they really started getting bad a few months after well.... the whole car crash thing. It also really didn't help soothe his apprehensions towards sleeping after once coming face to face with his mother's freshly mutilated corpse in his dream. Ever since then, he'd sworn off all fluids within two hours before when he slept.
This time it was different. His first night in this world was spent free of nightmares.
After spending what felt like the whole night struggling to reach a comfortable position, he finally managed to relax his body enough for him to pay a visit to the land of dreams. Cilen found himself inside a dark cavern, impossibly large, illuminated by millions of beautiful glowing stalactites stretching from the cavern roof to the lonely depths below. A circular throne stood silently in the darkness, seated by a slender and lithe silhouette. Cilen couldn't make out her facial features but he could identify a pair of multicolored eyes that seemed to tug at his very soul. A flash of amusement flickered in her eyes before being replaced by a look of solemnity. "Cilen Archelleta," the voice rang, "join me, reclaim your birthright."
Cilen thought he had seen it all.
Dead bodies? Yep
His own charred to the stump limbs after a completely average day? Mmmhm
Weird gem-like crystal inside a rat corpse? Been there, done that.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
Yet his dream seemed intent on proving him wrong. Strange dark cavern? Creepy throne?Disturbing silhouette? Terrifyingly beautiful (and terrifying) eyes staring right into his soul? They definitely didn't cut any corners in trying to confuse him. To top it all off, the 'thing' said something about joining her? And his birthright? Something wasn't right...
Cilen was pretty sure he was not an original resident of this world. However, something about what the voice had said unsettled him. Archelleta was not his surname. It belonged to his deceased mother. And the voice itself... it was strange. It sounded so sweet, so pleasant, it calmed his jitters, and yet he yearned to hear more. It was also . .. exceedingly familiar, almost like he had heard it somewhere, someplace before, almost... nostalgic. Thinking about it made his head hurt and Cilen had enough of mysterious creepy ladies. It was daytime now. He had stuff to do.
First thing, he needed a fire. The rain was still pouring outside but Cilen had an idea towards his next course of action. Locating the neutral crystal is what he called it, Cilen tried to voluntarily insert some 'energy' into the crystal.
Luckily his prior suspicion was right and the crystal lit up, brighter than before. "With light, comes heat," Cilen whispered as he gathered some dry materials he found lying around inside his shelter.
Grabbing two twigs, he furiously rubbed one against the tinder as the crystal was getting uncomfortably hot in his hand. When he saw some smoke starting to rise, Cilen remembered from sixth-grade science class that "fire needed oxygen to burn," so he bent down and started to blow gently into the base of the smoke, causing the embers to glow just a tiny bit brighter.
"C'mon"
Just as Cilen started feeling a tiny bit nauseous after all the blowing, he felt a heat burning his palm as a small flame flickered to life in the tinder. He had created fire.