“I had a dream,” I told them. “I saw myself before me, on top of me, surrounded by fire. And then I turned into a monster.”

“Another bad dream,” responded Tedet, taking a swig of his beer.

“No, it wasn’t like that. It was different. It felt real. Like it was really happening, just not to me. Do you know what I mean?”

For a second, I saw Tedet speak out his words of mockery: ‘No, Ed, I do not know how humans dream.’ But instead, he whistled and his pimpled flashed blue. That signaled to me indecision.

“I know what you mean,” said Misa. “I had a dream like that, yesterday, too. There was a monster, like a demon, but it looked more like a deformed humanoid. He was covered in flames and I tried stopping him from attacking someone — I think it was you — but then everything turned white. It was like I was looking back on a memory.”

“I dreamed…” interrupted Tedet. “I dreamed something yesterday too. I was looking at the sky. And then I saw Reira. She was crying, telling me something, but I couldn’t hear anything. There was fire all around us. I woke up right after that.”

It had been weeks after the death of Padrict and nothing major had happened since. I would’ve thought this had been some trauma since I saw him being executed. I saw myself in him as he was brought to the Cupula, already prepared for his Death Sentence. But I could not comprehend his attitude; his face looked satisfied, like he had accomplished something and was at peace. That did a number on me more than his death itself.

However, while I had bad dreams since, nothing like this had happened. And now both Misa and Tedet had dreamed something of their own, and at the same time. They weren’t traumatized like I was, and Misa had never had these kinds of dreams even after her friend had committed suicide; she had told us so. Her dreams were always the same: her failing to save her friend. This was different, and it felt different, she explained.

My silence must have been contagious because the three of us and Martin went completely quiet, and even I thought the pub had gone quieter.

“I had a dream, too,” said Martin. “I was looking at a hospital bed and there I saw many faces I recognized, but now I can’t recall I’ve met them. I was happy to see them, and when they touched me, my hands were wrinkly. I was old.”

“Me too,” said Hayier. “So did my husband and daughter.”

“Yesterday?” I asked.

He nodded. “I was mugged. Someone masked pointed a gun at me. The man fired, I saw the gun flare up like it was an old gunpowder gun. My husband said he was in a plane accident; the plane was on fire. And Reira said she… became light. Energy, like she was aflame. She said she saw the origin.”

“That’s odd,” I said.

“Did all of them involve fire?” someone behind me asked. He continued after we looked back in confusion. “Your dreams. All of them had fire involved.”

I put the pieces together and did the calculus in my brain like good detective I was and I nodded quietly at the same time as everyone else did.

“I dreamt of fire, yesterday. It was a war scene. There was fire and smoke everywhere. Explosions. I saw my own blood dripping from my body. It was like a memory.”

“This is scaring me,” said the woman next to him. “I had a dream with fire too.”

Then I realized it. The pub was quiet except for the screen streaming a game. Everyone had reared their attention towards us. After a few moments, I looked at each one of them, and they all began murmuring the same things, too. Yesterday they dreamt, and like everyone else there was fire.

“Wait,” said Martin. “I did not see any fire in mine, now that I think about it.”

Some people said the same and agreed. But then, why was fire involved in most of them? Was it a metaphor?

“Martin,” I spoke out. “Did you feel love when you saw those people?”

He opened up his eyes and felt ashamed, but he answered affirmatively. Hayier said he dreamed of a gun shooting, and while he did say the word ‘fire’ when referring to a gun shooting, I thought it wasn’t related until Martin agreed with me. Love is sometimes associated with fire, and while firing a gun doesn’t involve fire, gunpowder does produce a flare or flash that can be interpreted as a fire.

“Firing a gun. Love is a flame.” I explained. “Something we’re dreaming is involved with flames. Metaphorical or linguistical flames — it does not matter. Yesterday we all dreamed of some kind of fire.”

At that moment, I felt a chill. Magical energies, turbulent. Someone was approaching with great magic prepared. I turned to see the entrance of the Appleden Digger and I held up myself, an arm ready to cast my magic.

Beside me, Hayier dropped the glass he was cleaning before we interrupted him with tales of our dreams. He placed a hand under the bar and looked at the entrance as well. Misa and Tedet placed a hand under their shirts and held a stance that would allow them to pull out their concealed weapons in a fraction of a second. Martin held himself back, he wasn’t a man of action like the rest, but he felt the tension in the air.

The instant before the door burst open, I felt familiarity in that magic. Something about it made me hesitate and daydream for the instant I most needed my fullest attention. I caught myself and felt my heat drain from my body when I realized I was most likely dead before I could react at all. But lucky for me, the figure that the door had produced was that of a person I knew.

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I could not cope with the rollercoaster of emotions that I had just experienced, I felt like I was about to pass out. But my happiness managed to pull me through, although I did feel a little lightheaded.

“Yuna!” said Misa, who expertly slid off her seat, like an angel in flight, to receive our friend within the embrace of her arms.

I smiled like an idiot. I saw an old friend happy to see our new best friend. It was like a family reunion. One which I had longed for forever. How much did I miss having a family? I turned to see Martin with my smile, and I saw relief in his face.

“Come, Martin,” I said. “I want you to meet someone.”

I took his hand in mine and we intertwined fingers. I wanted to feel the full experience. I wanted Yuna to see me and my soulmate like a pair, like we were husband and husband, almost like how I would present him to my parents.

“Ed!” she answered as I approached. “Thank the Almighty, you’re alright.”

“Of course, I am. A small fry dragon isn’t going to kill me.” I chuckled. “This is Martin. My boyfriend.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m sorry, before that. Is Tedet here too?”

We parted ourselves and created a human corridor from which Yand-Una could look at the seating alchemist sipping his beer and saluting her with an open hand. Yand-Una answered it with a reassuring wave.

“I’m sorry,” she addressed Martin. “I was in such a hurry to meet you three, I was a bit distracted.”

“Don’t worry,” said Martin.

“What’s gotten into you?” I asked. “I felt you seeping magic from meters away. And you looked ghastly when you opened the door, like you were seeing ghosts.”

“I’m so sorry to worry. I was scared. I was concerned for you. I thought something had happened.”

“Well, you can see we’re fine.”

“No, you don’t get it. I had a dream yesterday —”

“Hold on,” interrupted Martin. “You too? Don’t tell me, you saw fire. You thought it felt like you were looking at a memory you had forgotten.”

Her eyes opened wide at Martin’s comment. Her lips trembled and her jaw hinged frantically. She looked like a stupid kid trying to come up with a lie after her mother had found out about a window she had broken.

“Yes,” she finally spoke. “That’s exactly it. How did— You had dreams too. Yesterday.” She peered at every single person in the quiet pub. “All of you did. Everyone dreamed. Just like the Cab— just like they told me.”

“They too?” I asked. It was surprising almost from an instant.

“Yes. The rumor’s been spreading. People have had their revelations all over the globe. It’s a pandemic.”

With that word — pandemic — I almost fainted.

“Global?” I heard several whispers behind me.

“I saw this pub aflame. I was defending it from vampires. I asked the bartender to flee. You weren’t there, but there were corpses and all I could think was that you were dead.

“I came here personally. The Cab— the Council has summed everyone. It’s an emergency.”

“Does it have to do with the dreams?” I asked.

“No, but they had already tried quelling the rumors that had spread through the organization. I thought it was only wiz— I thought it was only us, but I see it’s affecting everyone else.”

“What is happening? Why the emergency meeting?”

“War, Ed. It’s begun.”

“The Franic-Raschettan War? It spread out?”

“Yes, to us. It’s spread to us.” With that, she mimed to just the two of us.

Others gasp behind me. However, they had misunderstood what Yand-Una was talking about. War wasn’t about to break out in Al Patreck or even anywhere in Bathering. Yand-Una was talking about the supernatural.

The thing I was most afraid of had come true: a human war spreading its influence over to the supernatural world. It would not take long before it started involving more people and more countries.

And right on cue, the news interrupted the game on the screen of the pub. The high-pitched beeping pierced our ears, and called our attention, before a sharp-dressed female presenter with the colors of the government and overseen by a sigil at her back — the lion and eagle of the Republic of Bathering — appeared on the screen. The woman was the vice president of the country, taking charge while the president was visiting a neighboring country.

“Children of Bathering,” she began, addressing the citizens like it was tradition, to refer to us as the daughters and sons of the country named after the late revolutionist, Badth Ethter. “It is with a heavy heart that I must bring you this terrible news. This morning, at 6:43 am, the transport ship, Freely, sent to bring civil relief to the minor states that are currently suffering from an invasion by Hallet” — the capital of Raschet “— was sunk. We confirmed, thanks to some leaked reports that showed the ship after communications were lost due to jamming, that Freely was struck by a ballistic missile.

“This hasn’t been the last time relief ships had been lost in the Sor Vaniel sea. And while in every other instance, it was suspected who the culprit was, this was the first time we had managed to identify that an attack was carried out and what was the origin of the attack.

“The Freely was struck by a GH-98 missile, launched from the Torbruk cruiser, of the Raschet Navy.”

My heart sank, and I was sure I could hear the collective dropping of our hearts. The Freely was one of many relief ships sent from Bathering to help bring civilian and health aid, as well as rescue and evacuation operations for civilians. Whether the ship was on its way to give its cargo or coming back from boarding refugees, what mattered to our country was that we were attacked.

“We have received no answer from the government or the ambassador of Raschet. And given the current evidence and that two others of our ships had been sunk, we cannot look past this savage act of aggression. Not only are these waters not contested and international, but they had attacked civilian ships, killing tens of thousands of innocents.

“This is not only a war crime, but it’s also a damning declaration that we are a target of their war. So have they done the same with our neighbors and two other of our peaceful brethren countries.

“I do not like the words that must come from my mouth, nor am I proud of what I must put you all through with them.”

This was it. My mouth was hanging open.

“From today on, Rommal, the Sawhat Union, Shoelflam, and us, are unilaterally declaring war on Raschet. These acts of aggression are no longer tolerated and we will unite to bring peace to international waters and make sure our children and the children of other peaceful countries do not fall prey again to the tyrannical regime of the Raschetan. It is our duty to defend you, and, as vice president, I promise you that you will be safe from any and all acts of violence towards you. Bathering defends its children. No more children of Bathering shall suffer the horrors of war. No more children of Bathering shall meet their death to the gun of a foreign man.

“Long live our motherland and long live her children.”

I turned to see Yand-Una. She was as awestruck as I was.

“Aren’t you a Rommalian?”

She turned to me and her sclera turned red; tears were conjured on her eyelids. War had come to us in more ways than one.

“Have they gone mad?” someone said in the silence.

“It’s a world war,” another said. “Isn’t it?”

And the seconds of silence was the affirmative answer he didn’t want.

Fire, I thought. The fires of war. That was what our collective dream was telling us.