Jake jolted awake, his body covered in sweat, as if he’d run miles through dense jungle heat. He struggled to calm his racing heart, eyes darting around the dim room. The bed felt so real under him, the texture of the sheets still soft beneath his fingertips. But it wasn’t the bed or the dim surroundings that filled his mind — it was the dream, or rather, the vision. And, like before, he couldn’t shake the image of that young girl.
The girl’s name lingered on the edges of his memory, half-formed, yet clear: Saria. She looked humanoid, with pale skin that practically glowed under a thin layer of dirt, and short brown hair that looked matted, as if she hadn’t had access to even the simplest luxuries in days. Her face bore an innocence that was jarringly out of place against the backdrop of her hardship. And then there was the other presence, the woman seated at the table. The memory of her was sharp and oppressive, like a sudden weight pressing down on him.
Jake winced, the thought alone causing a dull ache to throb in his skull. The woman’s face returned to his mind, despite the discomfort it brought. She was humanoid too, clad in a flowing robe of gray and gold, the patterns almost flickering out of his grasp as if they belonged to a language he couldn’t quite understand. Her long gray hair fell loosely around her shoulders, framing her face. It was the scar, though — the angry, twisting scar that stretched over her right eye, closed as if sealed by some powerful force — that lingered longest in his thoughts. She’d looked at Saria with a gaze that held no warmth, only a calculated, chilling intensity.
As she’d spoken to Saria, her words had been a strange static, a harsh noise that drilled deeper and deeper into Jake’s head, like a rising storm of pain. And then, the vision snapped away, returning him to the dim solitude of the temple room. Jake clenched his teeth, pressing his palms against his temples as he whispered, “By the three stars of Ashadun, my head hurts.”
But even as the pain receded, a new sensation stirred within him, growing almost like an itch in the back of his mind, sending strange tingles up his spine. It wasn’t discomfort, exactly, but an awareness, a presence tugging at the edges of his consciousness. He turned his head, his gaze falling on the closed door that separated him from the rest of the temple.
“What is that?” he muttered, barely audible in the silence, as the sensation intensified, sending a slow, creeping chill through him. His eyes widened, and he watched with mounting dread as a shadow began to gather beneath the door. Every instinct screamed for him to retreat, to stay hidden, but his body remained frozen, caught in place by both curiosity and fear.
The door slid open, revealing a figure who stepped inside with quiet, purposeful movements. Her presence was undeniable, carrying an authority that seemed to weigh down the air in the room. Jake’s heart hammered faster as he took her in. She was unmistakable — the same girl he had seen in his vision, only older. Her face was clean now, and her brown hair was tied back into a ponytail, no longer wild and matted but groomed and controlled. Her blue eyes fixed on him with an intensity that was somehow both cautious and piercing. She wore pristine white robes, almost ceremonial in appearance, yet practical in design. Her posture held a readiness, as if she could spring into action in a heartbeat, and though Jake saw no weapon, he had no doubt she could take him down if she wanted to.
“Who are you?” The question slipped out, though even as he spoke, he already knew. This was Saria. The same Saria he’d seen in his visions, the girl who’d wandered through those halls covered in filth, ripped from her home. And now, here she was, standing before him, as real as the cold stone beneath his feet.
***
Authors Notes: If you Like my Writing style see more of my work on my Patreon!
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