Corvin stirred.
He didn't know what he expected from death—lfire, void, judgment perhaps, but certainly not this. He blinked.
No pain. No blood. Just a starry sky stretched endlessly above him, glittering like frost on glass.
The air was cool, still, and the ground beneath him soft with a blanket of blue flowers. They glowed faintly under the starlight, swaying gently despite the lack of wind.
He sat up, startled by how light he felt. His breathing was steady. His limbs, uninjured. Even the throbbing in his left arm, the one that had been mangled, was gone. He touched it, half afraid he'd find it missing. But it was whole. His ribs didn't hurt. Nothing hurt. In fact, he felt… well.
Better than well.
Like he had never been injured at all. He should've been relieved, but instead a quiet unease crept into him.
"Am I... dead?" he whispered.
But this didn't look like any underworld he'd ever heard about.
'Where were the souls, the demons, the endless grey plains?'
He stood up slowly, eyes scanning the field. All he saw was that same blanket of flowers, stretching on until it reached a low hill in the distance. At the top was a shack. Small, wooden, with two cross-framed windows and a soft, warm light glowing from within.
He began to walk toward it, one cautious step at a time.
'What is this place?'
The air smelled like lavender. His boots crushed no flowers beneath him—they simply bowed out of the way. There was no sound except the faint rustle of petals and his own quiet breathing. The world felt dreamlike.
Unsettling, but not frightening.
He looked at his hands. No wounds. No blood. No mud. His clothes, once tattered, were clean.
'This isn't real. It can't be.'
But everything felt real. Too real. The weight of his own steps. The softness of the flowers brushing his fingertips. Even the weariness that tugged at his eyelids, as though sleep still clung to the edge of his mind.
As he reached the shack, he noticed how pristine it looked. No rot, no dust. The windows, however, were strangely opaque. He tried peering through the left one, but it was like staring into mist, no shape, no form.
He was about to knock when he felt it.
A gentle hand touched his right shoulder.
He jumped, flinching hard. He hadn't heard anything, hadn't felt a presence. But now, standing behind him, was a woman.
Her voice was calm, warm.
"That's quite rare. We haven't had guests in a long time ."
He turned around slowly, an awkward smile forming out of confusion more than courtesy.
But then he saw her and forgot how to breathe.
She was beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.
Her hair fell like silk in hues of midnight blue, cascading past her shoulders.
Her eyes were like the stars above, vivid, ancient, and vast.
She wore a simple white robe that shimmered softly in the night air.
"I… uh… I was going to knock on the door," Corvin managed, pointing at the shack.
She chuckled lightly.
"It's fine. Sorry to startle you. I'm just too excited to see someone visiting this place."
He blinked at her, unsure of what to say. She smiled, gestured toward the field.
"Sit with me?"
Before he could respond, a table appeared beside them. Not summoned with flair, not conjured with sparks—just there, like it had always been. Two chairs. A small porcelain teapot. Two cups were already steaming.
Corvin's mouth opened slightly. Then closed.
"I—sure," he said finally, still watching the table like it might vanish again.
They sat. The chair was soft despite being carved of wood. He reached for the cup, felt the warmth.
"Do you know where you are?" she asked gently.
He shook his head.
"Is this the afterlife? I thought I was… gone. Dead."
"You're not dead." She sipped her tea.
"Then what is this place?" Corvin asked.
She tilted her head slightly, as though remembering what to say.
"This is the Night Garden. A sanctuary in the dream realm.'
"The dream realm?" Corvin was confused.
He had never heard of any place called the dream realm.
"It is a realm existing within the minds of all living beings, a place where thoughts, emotion and dreams of being are stored." She explained
"So is this my dream?"
"No. Not quite yours. Not entirely." The words hung in the air, soft as the breeze.
He frowned, trying to wrap his head around it.
Corvin sat back in his chair, cup in hand. So this is a dream… but more than that. A realm that lives in all minds? Then… could anyone reach it? Or was I dragged here?
He didn't remember falling asleep. Just pain and the feeling of his body breaking. Then that smoke, the black, writhing mass that had burst from the monster's corpse flying toward him
And now he's here.
Corvin was about to ask another question when suddenly Corvin's eyes snapped upward. The stars overhead twisted, and a black rift tore across the sky. From it spilled the same smoke, cold, thick, slithering through the air.
"No…" he whispered.
The smoke shot toward him.
He flinched, unable to move, frozen in terror. The memory of it seeping into his chest, clawing into his mind.
The woman, however, remained seated. Her expression didn't change.
Corvin braced himself.
But it never reached him.
The woman raised her hand.
The smoke halted mid-air. Like a bird caught mid-flight. It coiled violently, writhing, then collapsed into a tight ball in her palm. She looked at it with a scowl.
With a squeeze, the mass evaporated.
The rift above closed slowly. The stars returned.
Corvin exhaled shakily.
"What… what was that?"
She didn't answer at first. Her gaze lingered on where the rift had been.
"Filthy abomination," she said.
Her words: soft but disdainful.
Corvin clutched his cup tighter.
'I don't understand. Why did it come for me? What even was it? Was it trying to take me? Corrupt me? Possess me?'
He stared at the woman. She returned his gaze with gentle patience.
'She doesn't seem like a threat. But she's hiding things. Or maybe… maybe she just knows I'm not ready.'
The warmth of the tea seeped into his hands. His heartbeat slowed.
The fear passed.
And in its place came an odd sense of peace.
The Garden didn't feel hostile. It didn't even feel like a place made by something evil. It felt… familiar. Not in memory, but in emotion. Like a feeling he hadn't felt in years. Like being safe.
He looked up at the stars.
'I don't know where I am. I don't know how I got here. But maybe… This is where I was meant to come. Even if only for a while.'