Warmth prickled his skin. A cool breeze blew past, drowning out the soft whistling of birds. There was noise to his right. The sound of liquid sloshing back and forth. He imagined a stream of crystal-clear water flowing down from the mountaintops of verdant greens. He felt serene. As if being embraced by billowing, cotton candy clouds softly blowing in the wind.

With the rustling of leaves, he imagined an ipê tree. Where the petals fluttered down from the azure sky, raining like droplets of pink embers. The sun radiated from above, shining golden like dandelion vibrance. It tickled his arms and neck.

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To be free, to belong, to be real… That was his dream. All of this—creative, unfettered. It was perfect in every definition, beautiful in all its splendor… But what did it matter now? The one person who could’ve made him feel like he belonged was gone. How could he ever accept a reality like this and continue to live in it?

Then he heard a voice.

“Did you not promise to live, child of snow?”

He finally opened his eyes.