The World, The Memory, and The Dream

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Willliam's perspective

I opened my eyes to see the world as a white void, like a blank white canvas waiting to be painted on. Looking down, I see that my body remains intact, as before. No longer do I feel the fatigue or exhaustion from constant fighting. Hesitating to take a step as there was no ground to step on. Much to my surprise, my foot lay flat on the empty white void, allowing me to walk forward.

Where am I? I remember being in my house with my father after we had just saved Lord Dimmal?

I felt a sudden sensation. It was hard to make clear in words, but somehow, I felt this feeling connecting to mine, and soon, a gentle female voice rang throughout this barren world.

Sleeping.

Sleeping?

Looking around, I saw no one else near me. Until a golden light lit up in the distance. Running to it, I was surprised to run on nothing. But I didn't care. I got close to the golden light, materializing as an orb. The orb soon moved away from me, floating in the air as another voice echoed through the empty void like before.

"Little Will? Where are you?"

A new voice. It sounded familiar. It was Aunt Sifle. Her voice echoed throughout the void, almost like how ripples in water form.

Soon, materials erupted out of nothing, forming the insides of a building I once recall as Aunt Sifle's home. I looked into her home, like staring at a toy house; one wall was missing, allowing the outside world to peer inside. It was slightly grayed out, almost devoid of all color. I stopped running as the golden orb flew inside the house, flying circles in the living room. Her home was primarily made of wood, carved elegantly. Her living room was massive, with a maroon-red carpet on the ground. Tables and chairs were designed to fit the noble class. Many nobles would shun Aunt Sifle for that. Couches were well kept and placed around the house where people would find it convenient. High-value paintings were hung up all across the room. Children's toys claimed the floor.

I soon saw myself, but much younger. I was six at this time. I was so small that it was almost embarrassing. My face was more round back then as my arms and legs were much shorter. My body was less tannned but not very much how I am now. I wore a simple white cotton shirt with brown shorts. Apparently, I wasn't wearing any shoes. I did, however, have a cape. I was running around a table as Aunt Sifle came into view. She looked exactly as I did when I last saw her, but she wasn't wearing her brown corset. She had a long brown dress with a white apron. Her face no longer had the same red blush she had applied with makeup. Her forehead and eyes had a few wrinkles, which matched her middle age, but the touch of youth still resided in her beauty.

Well, that's what the teens would say anyway. I didn't know her age, though. I almost forgot about her curly golden blonde hair, which touched the base of her back.

I soon realized that this moment was a memory of my past. But why would it play out in my sleep? If I genuinely was sleeping. Why would I dream of a memory?

"Where you are going, Little Will," Aunt Sifle said, her hair swaying back and forth as she ran after me with a big, warm smile.

"I'm leading the forces against the Blight, like heroes of old!" The child version of me spoke, giggling as he lifted one of his feet onto a chair, making a pose as he swung his fist into the air. "I am Dragon Lord William, and I shall vanquish all of the Blight!"

I covered my face out of humiliation. I can't believe I acted like that.

"Like The First Rider Elton?" Aunt Sifle said as she caught up to the young me. She smiled brightly, clasping her hands together. "Oh great, Dragon Lord, please save us; the Blight is attacking!" She acted like a damsel in distress.

It's an act similar to the hero saving the princess that Aunt Sifle told me about when I was a child. It was a happy time, especially when my only friends would go to Aunt Sifle to be taken care of when parents weren't around. She is usually paid to look after the children.

"If you want to be like The First Rider Elton, you have to be a rider first," another voice uttered as a new individual appeared. It was Bide Aster.

Bide was slightly taller than me back then. His navy blue hair was just as wild as mine was, but he was far more elegant about it in a strange way. His button-up shirt, also navy blue, matched his hair and made him look very noble. His slacked black pants really did him good back then, along with these shiny black dress shoes. I did get those pants from him at some point. His departure gift is a sign that we will meet again.

I walked around the scene, getting closer to it as it continued to play. The golden orb continues to hover over the "memory" as it plays.

"Like me," Bide spoke, pointing at himself with a proud smirk.

"No fair!" The younger me yelled out, puffing out his cheek as he furrowed his brows and glared at Bide. "Your father is a Dragon Lord, so he obviously has ways to get you to be a rider!"

"Anyone can participate in being chosen by a dragon," Bide responded with a smug face. "You just have to be the age of 6 and older."

The younger me gritted his teeth and clenched his fists together. "No, fair! My dad said he would let me when I could catch a Heraraptor with my bare hands."

"Looks like he set you up to fail," Bide responded.

Looking more furious than before, the younger me didn't back down. "I'll prove you wrong, Bide! You'll see! And then I'll be the strongest Dragon Rider there ever will be. No! The strongest Dragon Knight! Ya, you see!"

I looked down at myself. "Don't worry, buddy, we were able to touch a Heraraptor with our bare hands."

"Then I'll be the strongest Dragon Lord," Bide spoke towards the younger me, placing both hands on his waist.

Younger me growled in frustration, not wanting to lose to Bide. "No, I'll be the strongest Dragon Lord! No, the strongest Titan Rider!"

"That's enough, you two! There will be plenty of time for you two to bicker together." Aunt Sifle interjected, frustrated with both younger me and Bide constantly trying to spout on whose better. Then she smiled, "Besides, you both make great dragon riders, regardless of who's stronger."

Younger me pouted as he turned away. But Bide approached him.

"I agree you make a fine rider as well, Will," Bide said with a smile.

Keeping a pouty face, the younger me turned to Bide, finally curving his lips to a smile. "Right back at you. You make a great rider, too. But that won't stop me from being the strongest."

"I'll have it no other way."

I chuckled as I recalled this moment. To this day, I still want to prove that I'm better than Bide. I wonder how he is now. He became a rider when he was six and managed to become a Dragon Knight when he turned fourteen.

I looked at the golden orb as it moved again, flying out of the room and back into the white void. I followed behind it, leaving the memory. Where is it taking me?

Following the light led me to what appears to be a street in Hearthglen. The cobblestone pavement crackled from being stamped on constantly, and weeds grew out of the cracks. I looked around to see it was a street I used to visit with Bide, only to see the younger version of me running down with Bide.

"We are going to be late, Bide!" younger me yelled as he ran ahead of Bide.

"How are you so fast?" Bide answered back, heaving hard as he tried to keep up.

Younger me finally stopped outside a food stand. Bide soon caught up, sweat dripping down from his forehead. He stoops forward, his hands on his knees as he spits mucus onto the ground. As Bide pants rigorously, a younger me approaches him, laughing at him.

"How are you a rider, and yet are still physically weaker than me?" the younger me asked, giggling. "I thought riders' bodies were stronger than an average person."

Bide exhaled loudly, "That only applies to dragon knights, not to a rider."

"All I hear is excuses," the younger me chuckled, forming a big, childish, smug face.

Chuckling to myself, remembering how often Bide and I competed against each other. A squeal came from behind Bide, making me look past him. There was a small four-limbed dragon the same size as Bide's younger brother's dragon. It was squealing loudly as it tried to keep up with the two kids until it was finally next to Bide's knee, huffing just as much as he was. It started to move its mouth like it was trying to speak. But I remember that Bide's dragon was too young to say at this moment.

"He's trying to say he's exhausted," Bide speaks for his dragon.

"It looks like you both need to work on your cardio," the younger me said as he laughed at both of them.

"You hooligans here again?"

Both kids turned to a stall, behind which stood a middle-aged man in a black chef's cap. He wasn't wearing a tall or fancy cap like a regular chef would; it was more similar to a beanie. His skin was tanned due to the amount of sunlight he was exposed to. His apron was covered in what appeared to be frosting.

"Are boys back for ice cream again?" the man said.

I remember this was when a heat wave came in one summer. It was blazing hot, so hot that many people fell unconscious. So, a few folks like Mister Turner profit from selling cold foods like ice cream.

Stolen story; please report.

"You know it, Terry," Bide answered. Both kids, including myself, chuckled at the name Terry Turner. Such an odd name. "We want the usual, please."

Mister Turner's face looked about to burst as he grumbled, scooping up ice cream for the kids. Soon, a woman came into view. Her short brown hair touched her shoulders, and she wore an apron similar to Turner's.

"Honey, don't let these kids bother you so much," said the woman.

I smiled at the memory until a loud noise erupted behind me. I turned around, and the Hearthglen was now burning. Bodies lay across the street. It was the night when the Blight attacked when the Titan attacked. The buildings were destroyed, and glass shattered all across the ground. Fires raged all around, and debris littered the very world itself.

Guilt came, squeezing my chest as I slowly struggled to breathe, coming in quick breaths as I looked down at the bodies that lay before me. A few I recognized when my father and I were fleeing back home. I could've done more. I should've done more. Maybe if I had stuck around longer with the soldiers, I could've helped more people escape. But instead, I listened to my father and saved my own skin.

But could I have done more? Who am I? I'm not some summoned hero? Not some badass warrior who was meant to save the world. Not some knight in shiny armor who will save the princess. I'm no one. I'm not special. Just some commoner who failed to be a dragon rider, so he stole one.

I looked at one of the bodies, which turned out to be Mister Turner. There he was, cradling his children alongside his wife. I turned back around to see Aunt Sifle on the ground, dead. Black veins grew over her skin, pulsating inside her veins as her eyes were pearl white. Tears slowly started to emerge as I felt a hand on my leg. I jolted back to see Turner, his wife, his kids, everyone, all looking up at me.

No. This isn't real. It can't be real. It's all a dream. Turner and his family are fine. So is Aunt Sifle. And Bide, and everyone else.

I close my eyes, desperately tearing myself away from the scene, praying for it all to disappear. Clenching my eyes tighter, I feel my heart pound in my chest. The light of fire glazes through my eyelids and starts to fade into white, returning to the empty void. Opening my eyes, I see that the distraught site of Hearthglen burning to the ground is gone.

I sighed loudly as the golden orb reappeared and flew into the void. As soon as my heart stopped pounding out of fear, I ran after the golden orb as a gray forest started to emerge. I soon realized it was the Zarmen Forest as I entered it. A campfire appeared behind a few trees as the younger version of me and my father sat. I was slightly older, maybe ten. My father looked somewhat younger but wore the same clothes I last saw him in.

"Dad," the new younger version of me spoke, sitting on a log next to my father. "Have you thought of ever remarrying?"

My father took it personally, looking grim, "No. No, I never thought about it."

"Why, though? You always look sad, and Aunt Sifle spoke of people remarrying. So why don't you?"

I watched as my father shifted to face the younger me. "Cause Will, when you find true love. True, passionate, everlasting love. Nothing can ever replace it. Cira, your mother, was more than my wife. She was my everything, my true and destined one to share my life with. No one can replace the love she and I had." I could almost see my father start to get the snuffles.

"I'm sorry for asking, father," the younger me said sadly. I can see the guilt in his eyes as he looked down at the ground. I can't blame myself. I never met my mother. The only person close to me that I could almost call my mother would've been Aunt Sifle. But I never did see her like that.

"You see, Will. Love hurts. And once you experience it. It changes you. Turns you into someone that you are not. But I know nothing will replace my love for your mother." My father rubbed the younger me's shoulder.

Realizing I was holding my breath, I exhaled, feeling like there was an anvil on my shoulders. Soon, the golden orb appeared again in the distance. I slowly walked past the scene, feeling sad for asking my father such a question—it might be because I wished I had a mother. Walking farther, I soon came into a clearing, standing underneath the golden orb. Only for a new feeling to emerge in my head—it felt like I was being stabbed in the chest as tears tried to crawl out of my eyes. Soon, the same voice from earlier echoed throughout the world.

Sad.

Sad? I'm not sad, but for some reason, I felt miserable. But it wasn't my own sadness. It felt weird—like when you cry for someone else's pain and not your own. Soon, another feeling emerged from me, but not my own. The voice ranged throughout the world once more.

Confused.

Confused? Confused for what?

Wait a second. Is the voice conveying its feelings to me? Every time I feel an emotion that wasn't mine, this voice says what emotion I'm experiencing. What is this?

I didn't understand what was happening, especially when I looked up and saw an odd, strange-looking creature. Its clear transparent body looked undeveloped, as its tight coiled form pulsed with what I guess to be its own nascent life. It had tiny nubs all over its body, unformed. Four of these nubs look like arms and legs connecting to its small body, linked to a long serpentine neck that arches forward to a large head between its tiny arms while two nubs are on its back. Its muzzle was almost as round as its mouth. It was sealed shut as if it didn't have one yet. However, its eyes were formed and staring at me with black eyes.

It looked like a fetus. I felt like I was going to be sick. I looked at it as the golden orb floated over me. Before I could say anything, a flash of golden light covered the white void, forcing me to close my eyes. The light seeped through my eyelids as I clenched ever tighter, forcing my eyes to block out any light. But it didn't work. I tried to block the light out with my hands, but it didn't work either. Soon, all feelings in my body faded as the light dimmed until there was nothing left but darkness.

When I opened my eyes, a few candles lit the room. That's when I felt pain radiating all over my body as I let out a loud groan.

"You're finally up?" a voice spoke. It was my father's voice. "How you feel, champ?"

Grimacing in pain, I turned my head to look at myself and my father. I was lying on a makeshift bed as my father looked around a few boxes in the back of the basement. My clothes were ripped up slightly, and my storage ring was gone. I groaned out in pain as I tried to move more than I would have. I felt miserable. Just thinking about moving sent jolts of pain throughout my body.

"Like crap," I answered as pain flared on my cheek. Grimacing, I groaned loudly, "Why does everything hurt?"

"You did go through a few buildings and got tossed around," my father answered, chuckling as I heard him walking around.

Just trying to turn my head hurts. A simple twitch sent waves of tortuous pain up through me. I wished I was still asleep. However, I realized my father wasn't in pain like I was.

"Why aren't you in pain?"

"Healing potion," my father bluntly said. I can also hear him laughing at that idea.

I groaned as I said in a whiny voice, "Well, where's my healing potion?"

"Only had one Max Potion," was my father's answer, giving him a disappointing sigh as I let my head rest back on the makeshift bed. "There is something else that would interest you."

"If it doesn't help with the pain, I don't want it."

Letting out a loud groan, something pressed against my hand. A smooth, solid gold-like texture met my fingertips, the surface undulating in a pattern reminiscent of overlapping plates or scales. My hand glided effortlessly as I let it run down the peculiar form, only to feel it shift and adjust beneath my touch, pressing back insistently. It felt lukewarm as a warm breath exhaled onto my skin. Looking down at my hand, I could make out the faint reflection of light bouncing off what appeared to be golden scales. Moving my hand to the side, I saw what could only be a baby dragon.

I pulled back, my head spinning in shock as I rolled off the makeshift bed. Pain shot through me as I felt all of the nerves in my muscles flare as if they were screaming at me as I came in contact with the ground. It was a solid indication that this wasn't a dream, but this is very real. The dragon squealed as it jumped back away from me as I rolled on the ground, groaning as my body was pounded with waves of agony. It wasn't precisely pain I felt; my body was so sore and fatigued that it hurt. Or maybe it was the pain I was feeling.

"What the hell, Will!" my father yelled out.

"I'm fine," I said hoarsely, trying to keep the pain in.

My father walks over to me, offering me a hand. "Come on, if you are that restless, don't make too much noise."

Grunting out of irritation, I took his hand as I cradled my other arm into my stomach, hoping that it would alleviate some of the pain. It didn't. My father pulls me up to my feet as I look down to see the baby dragon, once more, walking towards me. As soon as I made eye contact with it, waves of emotions came over me, like a headache without the pain growing. Waves of concern and wariness flooded me, and soon, fear and guilt. But I can obviously tell that these weren't my own emotions. But then I felt this feeling starting to mix with my current emotions. Then, a single clear idea came from what I could make out in my mind. It was as if all those emotions that I felt were combined into one thing.

Pain?

"Pain?" I blurted out.

"Pain?" My father blurted out right after me, wondering what I was thinking.

"What? No…. I just," I pondered for a moment. "I just felt weird, like I was feeling worried and guilty. But these weren't feelings. It's hard to describe. Then next, a word just pops into my mind."

"Your dragon is speaking to you." Surprised at hearing another voice, I jumped back and turned towards where it was. That's when I remembered we rescued Lord Dimmal.

Lord Dimmal!

"Baby dragons can't convey words, so they express their thoughts with feelings and emotions. Those emotions will collide with their riders and form something the rider understands, providing the rider with what the dragon is feeling or their intent."

Remember, he was still part of the Order. I was worried he was going to execute us because I had practically stolen a dragon.

"You're not going to….. You know," I replied. I am worried that he will try to arrest us or, at worst, kill us.

"I don't care that you stole a dragon." Lord Dimmal answered, leaning forward as I could clearly see his eyes had darkened from exhaustion and something else. "All I care about is my dragon."

Before I could ponder what he meant, the baby dragon rubbed against my leg. I looked at it in amazement. I felt a close fondness for it. Something I never felt before.

"What about your family?" my father asked. His tone took me back. It was a lot more serious.

"Both sons moved to Drakelene City to stay with my wife. Both are supposed to be attending the Knight Academy," Dimmal spoke.

With a heavy sigh, I pushed aside their conversation as the reality about Turner and his family hit me. Along with Aunt Silfe and everyone else, they were truly gone. They were all dead. I couldn't believe it, and I started to be overwhelmed by a wave of guilt and sorrow, almost wanting to fall to the ground.

Dropping down to my knees, I clenched my fist tightly as anger rose. Only to be taken back when I felt the baby dragon had made its way under my arm. My hand soon unclenched as I caressed the dragon gently, moving my hand up to its head. Scratching the area between its horns, the baby dragon pressed against my hand, almost purring. Despite the massive pain and guilt, it was cute enough to make me smile.

"Hello, little guy," I said, trying to hide my pain and anger. I was soon bombarded with feelings of annoyance, and what I could guess was disrespect all started to overpower my own feelings. Soon, a single thought echoed through my head.

"Female?" I said out loud, confused, realizing that, as Lord Dimmal stated, it was the dragon speaking to me. "You're a female?" The dragon squealed softly in acknowledgment.

"You should rest more, Will," my father mumbled as he made his way to me, patting my shoulder. You too, Dimmal. We can't stay here forever, and I'd rather be ready for what's up there." My father's tone was serious. He only gets like this when things are dire. He's right that we can't stay down here.

Nodding my head, I stood back up with whatever strength I had left. I limped back to the makeshift bed and heard the baby dragon scurrying across the ground next to me. Gently falling onto my back, the gold baby dragon leaped onto my chest. I couldn't tell if she was heavy or not, as I felt my guilt and sorrows pushing me down. The dragon curled up into a ball on me as I watched its body grow and shrink with its breathing, letting out a purring sound. Just watching her sleep peacefully was making it easier for me to breathe.

"Dimmal, I mean it," I overheard my father as he lay on the ground. Lord Dimmal scoffs as I look over to see him lying down.

Turning away to look at the ceiling, reliving the moments I had earlier in Hearthglen. Thinking of ways that I could've done more. All this guilt and pain. It makes me feel pathetic. It makes me mad. I hate it. I hate feeling like this. Even if I am a nobody.

With a heavy sigh, I finally let exhaustion take me once more as I closed my eyes. Letting the darkness take me as a monster screeched above ground, shaking the earth.