On a desolate, ruined land, a man staggered forward, dragging his battered body with great difficulty.
Beneath his feet lay countless corpses, and his shoes were soaked with sticky blood and torn flesh. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smoke of destruction.
The brighter the light around him grew, the more blurred his vision became. His body wavered, as if ready to collapse at any moment.
Slowly, he raised his hand, spreading his fingers as though trying to grasp something ahead.
Suddenly, faint, ethereal figures began to appear before him, one after another.
They transitioned from blurry to clear, standing in front of him, their expressions filled with profound disappointment.
"Boy, you were supposed to save them." The voice was old and weary, heavy with unfulfilled expectation.
"Captain, why didn't you succeed? You used to be able to." This from a face he recognized, a comrade from a lifetime ago.
"Leon, you failed to protect Hefei. You promised me, but you didn't keep your word." Constantine's voice was a low, accusing rumble, his form flickering with crimson embers.
As the voices fell, the figures disappeared one by one. But the accusations directed at the man were far from over.
"My dear husband, we've lost. The fate of the Silver Dragon Clan should never have been entrusted to you." Rossweise's voice was cold, her silver eyes dull.
"Silver Prince, is this the end? It seems you're no more the prophesied 'Child of Thunder' than I am." Odin stood tall, his judgment final.
"Brother in law, you failed to protect anything. Nothing at all." Isha's usual fiery spirit was extinguished, replaced by hollow grief.
"Dad, why is it so cold? Muen feels so cold..." His daughter's small voice was a knife to his heart.
"Muen is scared. Why didn't you come to hold me...?"
"My father never failed, but everyone is gone. Grandpa Tiger, Grandma Charlotte, Aunt Claudia, Aunt Isha, and even—" Aurora's logical summary of the catastrophe was the most painful of all.
"Mom!" Noah's final, shattered cry echoed into nothingness.
Leon jolted awake, sitting upright in bed. His right hand clutched the blanket tightly as he gasped for air, his heart hammering against his ribs.
His pupils were dilated, and cold sweat had drenched the sheets beneath him. The nightmare had shaken him to his core, its visceral terror clinging to him like a shroud.
But no matter how vivid the dreams felt, the quiet, moonlit bedroom and the familiar scent of Rossweise's perfume reminded him that it was all just a dream. For now.
Click.
The bedside lamp turned on, pushing back the oppressive darkness.
A gentle hand cradled Leon's face, guiding him to lean into the warm, secure embrace of his wife. Her silver hair cascaded around him like a protective veil as she intertwined her fingers with his, feeling his still-rapid pulse slowly begin to steady.
Rossweise lowered her gaze, planting a soft, reassuring kiss on his damp forehead as she spoke in a tender, steady voice.
"It's okay. It was just a dream. I'm here. Don't be afraid."
She comforted him with practiced ease, a silent testament that this was not the first, nor even the fifth, time such an incident had occurred.
Since their brief, unsettling conversation in the courtyard about his fears, Leon's nightmares had only worsened in both frequency and intensity.
Previously, they occurred about three times a week. Now, it was every single night—sometimes even striking during brief, afternoon naps, denying him any true rest.
Leon's mental state was a mirror of his torment, and Rossweise felt his suffering as if it were her own.
She had arranged for the Silver Dragon Clan's most skilled apothecary to prepare calming remedies and had tried everything to make Leon as comfortable as possible before bed.
Nothing worked.
The nightmares still dragged him into their crushing depths, and Leon described them as feeling less like dreams and more like a surreal blend of reality and illusion forcefully thrust into his mind.
The pain they caused wasn't just from the vivid, horrific scenes he experienced; the lingering psychological weight after waking was unbearable, a heavy fog that took hours to dispel.
Caught between reality and fantasy, Leon felt his grip on what was real beginning to slip.
After calming down slightly, Leon patted Rossweise's shoulder, his voice rough.
"I'm going to wash my face."
"Alright," she replied, her worry evident in her eyes but kept from her voice.
Leon threw off the sweat-soaked blanket and got out of bed. The cool marble floor was a grounding sensation against his feet.
In the bathroom, he turned on the faucet and splashed handfuls of cold water on his face. The chill refreshed him momentarily, shocking his system, but the shadow of the nightmare still lingered at the edges of his consciousness.
He rested his hands on the sink, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The man looking back was haggard.
His damp hair clung to his forehead, droplets trailing down his dark locks. His face bore the deep exhaustion of several consecutive sleepless nights, with dark circles etched under his eyes.
"What's happening to me?" he murmured to his reflection, the question a desperate plea.
As he spoke, a faint, ethereal blue glow flickered in the mirror.
Startled, Leon blinked and leaned closer to investigate, his fatigue forgotten for a moment.
But upon closer inspection, he realized the glow wasn't a trick of the light in the mirror—it was emanating from the old, faint scar on his brow.
The scar, a relic from his time serving in the dragon military, was subtle and had once added a rugged charm to his appearance. Rossweise had often traced it with her finger when they first met, a fond memory that now felt distant.
But now, for a fleeting second, the line of the scar had glowed with a soft, malevolent blue.
Thinking it was a trick of his exhausted mind, Leon rubbed his eyes vigorously and looked again. The glow was gone, the scar once again just pale, raised tissue.
"Maybe I'm just seeing things," he muttered to the empty room.
With his profound lack of sleep and the constant strain of the nightmares, visual hallucinations were hardly surprising.
Leon brushed it off, the rational part of his mind seizing on the explanation, and returned to bed. After exchanging a few quiet words with Rossweise, they shared a comforting kiss goodnight and drifted back to sleep, though his was once again fitful.
The following morning, Leon woke up groggily, his usual disciplined routine delayed by his poor sleep. The sky outside was already bright.
By the time he finished freshening up, Rossweise was waiting for him at the door, her expression a mixture of concern and purpose.
Dressed in a greenish-blue robe and holding a white-gold towel, Leon tilted his head in confusion.
"Is something wrong?"
"My sister is here."
Leon scratched his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "Big Sister Isha? Why is she here? Well, let's go greet her."
"She's not here as a guest," Rossweise clarified, her tone neutral.
Leon froze. "Not as a guest? Then...?"
Ten minutes later, in the sunlit palace hall, the reason became clear.
"A psychologist?"
Leon stared in surprise at the elderly woman seated gracefully before him. Her refined posture, graceful movements, and intelligent eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses exuded an air of gentle but firm authority.
"That's right," Isha replied matter-of-factly, a proud smile on her face. "When Little Rose wrote to me about your relentless nightmares and how nothing the healers tried seemed to work, I went straight to Sky City to bring you the best and most renowned psychologist in all of Dragonkind—Dr. Rachel. You can thank me later."
Leon blinked, then chuckled wryly, shaking his head. The idea felt foreign, almost absurd.
"Nightmares aren't exactly a psychological issue, are they? They feel... more real than that."
Isha sighed, her hands on her hips. "Who knows? But since potions, spells, and your own stubborn will have all failed, it won't hurt to try this, right? You can't go on like this, Leon."
Appreciating her genuine concern and good intentions, Leon nodded in acquiescence.
"Alright. How do we begin? What do I need to do?"
Isha turned to Dr. Rachel, who responded in a voice as calm and smooth as still water.
"Just lie down and relax, Your Highness. Don't overthink it. Simply follow my voice."
"Understood."
Leon lay down on a plush sofa, placing his hands on his abdomen as he closed his eyes, trying to release the tension from his shoulders.
Dr. Rachel sat beside him, beginning a calming, meandering conversation that felt more like casual chatter between friends than a clinical session. She spoke of peaceful landscapes, of quiet forests and serene lakes, her voice a steady anchor.
Meanwhile, Rossweise and Isha stood a respectful distance away, observing the session with keen, worried eyes.
Rossweise folded her arms and leaned toward her sister, whispering,
"Do you truly think this will actually work? His suffering is rooted in something... otherworldly."
"Who knows?" Isha whispered back, her gaze fixed on Leon's face. "But you don't want your husband being slowly eroded from the inside out by this, do you? We have to try everything."
"No... You're right. I suppose this is worth a try," Rossweise conceded, her shoulders slumping slightly.
The sisters watched as, under Dr. Rachel's guidance, Leon's expression gradually softened, the hard lines of anxiety around his mouth easing. His tone grew slower and more relaxed as he responded to her questions.
"It's working...," Rossweise murmured, a flicker of hope in her amethyst eyes.
"She's incredible. She managed to calm him down already," Isha whispered back, impressed.
Dr. Rachel glanced over and reassured them in a soft tone,
"This isn't hypnosis. I'm simply guiding His Highness into a more receptive state to explore his own subconscious, to uncover the root of these nightmares. Once we find the source, we can begin to address the cause."
"Thank you, Doctor," Rossweise replied, her voice filled with genuine gratitude.
Dr. Rachel then turned her full attention back to Leon.
"Now, Your Highness, I want you to recall the most troubling aspects of your dream. You may feel fear in reality, but here, in this space, nothing can harm you. Trust in yourself to face and conquer this shadow."
Under her guidance, Leon began to respond. But his reactions quickly turned negative. The temporary peace shattered.
Sweat beaded anew on his forehead, his fists clenched tightly on his abdomen, his knuckles white. His breathing grew ragged and shallow, a low groan escaping his lips.
Rossweise's heart raced with renewed worry, her own hands curling into fists.
"Is he okay? This looks just like when he's trapped in the dream itself."
Dr. Rachel's voice remained calm but held a new note of urgency.
"The dream's impact on him is profoundly deep, too deep for simple suggestion to counter. The resistance is fierce. I'll try to bring him out now."
As Rachel worked to gently pull Leon back from the brink of his nightmare, Rossweise and Isha watched anxiously, the air in the room growing thick with tension. After a long, strained moment, Leon's expression finally relaxed, his clenched fists unfurling, and his breathing steadied into the slow rhythm of natural sleep.
"He's fine now. He's simply sleeping normally. He'll wake up shortly," Rachel assured them, though a faint line of concern was etched on her brow.
Isha let out a heavy breath of relief. "So, Doctor, what is wrong with him? Did you find the root?"
Dr. Rachel shook her head, removing her glasses to clean them thoughtfully. "This doesn't seem to be a purely psychological affliction. The resistance I felt... it was external. A presence. I'm afraid I cannot provide a solution with my methods."
Rossweise's face fell, the hope draining away. "Then... what should we do? Is there nothing left to try?"
Rachel paused, choosing her words with extreme care. She looked from the worried queen to the sleeping prince.
"There is one being, ancient and vastly knowledgeable, who might have the answers you seek. The master of the neutral Sky City, the keeper of forgotten lore—the Twilight Tower Master, Simon."