I see a distant figure in the sky, a breathtaking vision made entirely of light. It is not without form; rather, it takes on a human shape, seemingly composed of majestic golden orbs that shimmer and pulse like stars in the night. The figure radiates an otherworldly glow, illuminating the surrounding darkness with a warm, ethereal light.

Its roar pierces through the air, drilling into my head like a relentless hammer. As the figure bellows, countless forms of light erupt into existence around it, each one brimming with destructive potential, capable of annihilating an entire town in an instant. The lights swirl and dance in chaotic patterns, some fusing together to create larger orbs that pulse with an intensity that feels almost sentient. Their power eluding me.

I frown at the sight, but I am not frozen in place. A primal instinct kicks in; I am acutely aware that if one of those attacks were to strike me, survival would be impossible. The weight of this knowledge hangs heavy in the air, thickening the atmosphere around me.

In a moment of desperation and clarity, I tap into my spirituality and reverse time for thirty seconds. The world around me shimmers and shifts as I manipulate the fabric of reality itself. Suddenly, I find myself witnessing the figure high in the sky preparing its devastating attack, its form radiant against the backdrop of a darkening sky.

With urgency coursing through my veins, I accelerate time for myself, appearing next to him in an instant. I expend almost all of my remaining spirituality in this reckless maneuver, determined not to give him a moment to think or react. With a fierce resolve, I thrust my fist toward his heart.

But what met my fist is not the solid resistance of flesh and bone; instead, it is an intangible flame that flickers and dances with an unearthly grace. My fist passes through it as if it were nothing more than mist, yet the moment I make contact, my entire arm is engulfed and vaporized in an instant.

I scream in agony and instinctively grab where my hand used to be, panic surging through me like wildfire. To my astonishment, I take a closer look and realize that my arm is still there—intact and whole, not a stump but perfectly normal. The realization crashes over me like a wave: it was all just a damn dream again.

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Somewhere deep within my thoughts, a name surfaces—Sihrod. It lingers there like a whisper on the wind, elusive yet familiar.

These dreams keep appearing more frequently; I mumble to myself in frustration. This is already the third one this month alone, and today is only the 24th. My mind drifts back to when it all began—when I touched that damned corpse. Yet reminiscing about it won’t do me any good now; it only deepens my sense of unease.

I let out a heavy sigh as I ponder how many so-called masters of divination I have already visited. Not one has found anything awry with me. True, I didn’t divulge the existence of these dreams or anything else significant during those consultations; but could they really not notice anything at all?

And can I truly call this experience a dream? It feels far too real—the emotions surge within me like a tempest; the thoughts are vivid and unyielding. Each detail remains etched in my mind long after waking.

What i find the weirdest is that I always remember these specific dreams. It’s not as if I recall every dream that comes to me; rather, only these special ones linger in my memory.

Well, no matter—I have a long day of work ahead of me. It’s still only 6 a.m., but life waits for no one.

As I leave the house I pick up a newspaper lying on my doorstep. And on the front page i find news that take me by pleasant suprise. News that on the 24th january of the year 1467 the war between Arcan and Bruta has ended.

A war that has already lasted for 6 or so years, claiming countless lives and ruining even more.

Me personally i have never been to either country--well i really have never left my own country, but knowing that the war has ended still brought me joy.

The war ended with Arcan being victorious, they had managed to capture the King of Bruta. An abominable tyrant who started this war over being hungry for more power.

After the King got captured the remaining soldiers lost the will to fight and just surrendered.

Of course what's to come next is probably Arcan taking over the territory of Bruta, quite ironic--poetic even.

On how this will affect the Kingdom of Termol, where i reside, i truly have no idea.

There are quite a few countries between Termol and either of those 2.