They left the city behind for five days now. For once, they had peaceful travels. No bandits, no monsters. Just the road and distance to cover. During the days, the man always made some time to train. He wanted to get back his strength and learn to control his magic.

But the nights were different. As serene as the days went by, the nights were haunting. For Nazrem, words still lingered in his ears:

'Do you hear her screams?'

The man knew exactly what the mage meant. Ever since then, he heard those screams every night. He saw her face just as it was back then. Those eyes, that hair, that face...

Still, why did it leave this much of an impact? That "love" was always onesided. She never felt the same. He always knew that deep down, even if he often denied it and pretended that she just needed some time. That one day she will love him, and they will be together. Because sometimes she did give signs of that. A word of appreciation, a touch, a hug. All in the right time, when he felt that it was pointless to try anymore. And then the cycle started again and again.

Looking back, of course, he realized that she was never interested in him. He was only a substitute, a plaything for attention. She never had any feelings for him, but he was useful in making her feel special. Even so, he could not hate her. He played right into her hand; of course he was used.

But still, deep down, he still thought that maybe a day would have come when he would be recognized for his actions. He still craves that feeling, but not necessarily from her. He still wanted to be loved, but by whom was not so clear. On the sixth night, he decided to get to the bottom of this, where it all started. In his dreams.

He knew of a small ritual, which allowed the performer to dreamwalk for a short time.

Fortunately, the plains where they were had the kind of herbs he needed. At night he burned them, and inhaling their essence, he focused on what he wanted to find. And he fell asleep.

There was nothing, but the white nothingness. Every way he looked, only the never ending white landscape was there. And the cold. So cold. Icy winds carried it through the entirety of this place of the soul. Soon he saw its source. It would have been impossible not to. There was a statue, seemingly carved from ice. It depicted a woman, but its form changed a little from every angle he looked at it. All depicted a different girl, all of whom he knew. And beside the statue. There was himself, grabbing onto it. This version was a little younger, a few years maybe. His legs were frozen in place, his face biten by the frost. Still, he held the statue's hand like his life depended on it.

'Let it go!' he shouted to his other. But the distance was too great.

He took a step closer, but then a stronger current of the wind hit him. With it, multiple glimpses of memories appeared vaguely in the nothingness. Instances of gift giving, of overstretching himself, of abbandoning his goals for these persons. All of them at once.

It was overwhelming, so he drew out his sword. He noticed that unlike in the outside, it was easier to control. For in his mind, he had perfect control of it.

'Anathema!' The sword lit up with flames with such blaze, it created a barrier around him. He still felt the icy winds, but now he could move forward. Step by step. The younger one did not seem to show any interest in him whatsoever. He just stared at the statue.

'LET IT GO!' The traveler shouted once more, louder than before. 'It is not what you seek!'

Another blast of the wind struck. He braced against it, but this time the memories came clearer.

He saw a girl, her hair blond, her eyes blue. She was young. When he first saw her, he became determined to impress her and to talk to her. But she was never interested in him. Whenever he tried to start a conversation with her or to spend a few minutes with her in the schoolyard, she was cold. Only answering in a few words before getting out of the situation. He even tried to write letters to her; after all, maybe the publicity was the problem, when it was not. He just could not accept that she was not interested in having any relation to him. Only after too many walls and too much time did he realize this fact and stop. Too much time and effort went to a person who did not deserve it. Back then, it became an important lesson, even if he did not fully learn it in that moment.

In the present, another realization hit him. Those screams in his nightmares and the state of this place could only mean one thing.

'It's not just about her; it's about all of them,' he said to himself. He finally understood why she stuck with him. He yelled once more to his inner self. 'BREAK IT DOWN! IT IS JUST AN OBSTACLE!'

Again, the young one did not answer, but he shifted his head. With this progress, the wanderer continued in the storm. He was halfway there when the next blow of wind hit him.

This time, it was a love fulfilled. A love lived. A love that could not work, still they tried.

The girl was living in a different village, a decent distance away from him. Still, he always made time to travel to her. It did not matter if something else interested him, like time with friends, family, or even training. All was cast aside. When they were together, everything seemed brighter; everything was alright. For the first time, he felt love and was loved. But when they were not, thats when the problems started. They missed each other, but only he made an effort to go see her. Also, they did not have many things in common in them, aside from the fact that they were each other's first partners. Looking back, none of them were mature enough for this kind of commitment. He wanted to rush things, while she was too scared to stand up for herself in front of her mother, who tried to end their relationship every way she could. In the end, both of them just got tired of the situation. So they parted ways. He needed to silence his heart for that decision. It was hard. Perhaps the hardest thing he ever had to do. But he had to, none the less. He often wondered what would happen if they would cross paths again. Would the spark reignite? Would it be better? Would it be the same? An often occuring thought in his mind. Another lesson: just because you find someone you are happy with, it doesn't mean she is the right one.

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For now, he silenced it again. He pushed forward, shouting still.

'SHATTER IT! IT IS NOT REAL!' This time his younger self answered.

'W-What?'

Finally, he was getting through to him. He relentlessly marched forward. He was in an arms reach when the stongest blow yet struck him.

It was her. Abigail. Her red hair and blue eyes shined just as beautifully as ever. Her smile was so calming, so joyful, that all he ever wanted was to make it appear on her face. Glimpses of memories appeared. The long walks, the talks, the nightouts with drinking and looking to the stars. He trusted her fully and gave everything he could for her. They shared secrets, desires, states of mind, everything. Or so the man thought. The hard truth was that it was only him who was sincere. The connection he thought they had only existed in his mind. Looking back, it was only him who told her everything, only him who sought to spend time with her, only him who was trustworthy. Once, he caught her sharing his secrets with other girls of the town. He did not talk to her for a week, but in the end he forgave her. He always did. Another time, maybe the most honest moment of hers, she admitted that she liked that other people thought that they were a couple, even though she had no intention to be with him that way. That deeply sorrowed the traveler. He was so certain that he made progress... That was the wake-up call he needed. He planned on severing any ties they had. But he could not bring himself to do it right away. After all, love is irrational. Even with every wrong doing being so clear to him, he still loved her. He wanted to talk things through with her in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he would get a chance. In the end, he did not get even then. For she perished by Nazrem's hands. The hope, however, did not. It was still in him. He finally reached himself and the statue.

'You have to destroy it! Can't you see? This statue is not your love. It's the idea of it! We crave to be loved, to someone finally recognize us, to choose us! We want someone to come and save us from this loneliness! But by constantly searching for this approval, we are frozen in place. Committing the same mistakes over and over again. We have to realize that there is no one "made" for us. To stand strong together with someone, we have to stand strong alone first. If we don't know who we are or what we are seeking, we will remain vulnerable for tricks and to be used! This isn't a romantic story, nor a fairy tale! This is real life! Let go of this not existing picture and be free of the search!'

The younger one looked at him and asked.

'But if I don't find her, how will I feel this warm? I don't want to be alone, left in the cold. If I don't find her, am I good enough? If I don't find her, who will save me?'

The storm got ever stronger; it almost broke through the barrier he created. How could he free himself from these doubts?

'You feel cold because you gave all of your warmth to them! So much time and effort given to those who did not need it nor care for it! You are not alone! You have comrades; you have yourself! And,' he stopped for a moment. 'Don't you want a partner, an equal relationship? A person who you are there for each other, no matter what? Or do you want to be the one who is taken care of and to feel like you are the lesser? Do you really want to play someone else's games all your life? To be defined by their opinion of you? Or do you want to play by your rules? The choice is yours.'

With that, he tossed his sword to the feet of his inner self and let the storm freeze him. He could feel the ice as it crawled up on his legs, his chest, and his neck, but he did not care. He focused on his other half until it was done.

The younger one thought for a moment about the words of the man. He slowly picked up the sword. He stared at the statue for a little.

For the last time.

For he struck with the blade, shattering it to a thousand pieces. The moment the idol fell down, all of the heat was released from it, warming up the nothingness and freeing the wanderer from his icy prison. He looked at the younger form of his, who, with tears in his eyes, asked.

'Will we find our person one day?'

'Maybe,' said the man. 'But even if we don't, this warmth will not leave us. We have given it to many people over the years. Except for ourselves. So, no more "what if" or "what could have been." It is time to stop chasing a savior and focus on what is real: our goals, our fights, and all that we need to resolve. If we are done with all that, then we may find our partner. And when we are done, we will not need a false idol again.'

The young one noticed something on the ground.

'Look. We missed something.'

It was a shard of the statue. An ice shard, which resisted the heat, refusing to melt.

They stared at it.

'Don't worry, I will finish it,' said the inner self.

'No,' said the dreamwalker. 'Let it be a reminder for giving up the chase. Plus, its quite pretty. Maybe one day the right person will come, and it will be a fine gift for her.'

That is when the dream faded away.

The man woke up at their camp. The sun broke through the brenches of the trees above. He sat up, searching his feelings.

'Finally, you're awake,' Wolf greeted him. 'You were talking in your sleep. Did you have a nightmare?'

The warrior smiled, searching his feelings. He felt warm inside.

'There's nothing left but the ice shard,' he whispered.

The two mentors looked at him puzzled.

'What are you talking about, lad?' Scythian asked.

The traveler shrugged his head.

'Come, let's pack up. I'll explain it on the way.'