Everlasting dream (18+)

 

[Randal]

A single flickering candle on the nightstand beside the bed barely lit the small room. Its weak flame provided little light, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls and wooden floor, leaving most of the space in darkness.

Randal's mother, wearing her usual white nightgown, leaned heavily against the door, desperately trying to keep it shut with her body. But the thing outside kept banging and banging violently, making the whole door rattle like it would burst open at any moment.

The metallic scent of blood filled the boy's nose, sharp and distinct, making his stomach churn uncomfortably. It was coming from his mother — her freely white cloth had a massive gash across her stomach, blood oozing from the wound and dripping down her pale thighs.

Sitting on the bed and hugging his knees tightly to his chest, Randal tried desperately to make out his mother's face in the dim light. But it was too dark, and the candle provided little help. No matter how hard he squinted, a blurry fog replaced the beautiful features he once knew. Except for her lips, for some reason, the lack of a smile on them was something he couldn't help but remember.

A weak, desperate voice reached his ears as she cried out. "Go away, monster! I won't let you take him!" She pressed her back against the door, trying with all her strength to keep it shut. Her hands moved frantically around, pushing a nearby chair and propping it under the doorknob.

All Randal could do was watch helplessly as his mother tried to stumble towards him, only to collapse on the floor after just a few steps, clutching her bleeding stomach.

Randal tried to get up and help her, but his body refused to obey. He tried to call for help, but no sound left his throat. When his mother needed him the most, all he could do was sit there helplessly, frozen in fear, watching the blood pool around her body.

"Randal, my baby," she whispered, her voice strained and weak, each word labored. "I need you to listen... don't ever trust..." She coughed, speckles of blood flying from her mouth. The pounding on the door and creaking wood drowned out her words. But she fought through it, desperate for him to understand. "...will lie..."

"...don't let him turn you into... never..." she gasped, her body wracking with convulsions as more blood escaped her lips. "Always... remember that I love you... no matter what happens. Please don't forget it. Please." Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment before opening again to gaze at him one last time. Then they fell shut, and she slumped back against the floor, unmoving.

— "M-Mommy..." Randal finally managed to choke out as tears streamed down his face. All he wanted was to run to her side, see her face so he wouldn't forget it again. To hold her and never let go.

But the door burst with a loud bang before he could even try. The chair blocking it shattered into splinters, and the tall creature stood in its place. It wore a cloak of shadows and had long, unnaturally thin limbs and no face—just two soulless black holes where eyes should be.

It stared at Randal, the look cold and empty as the monster got closer, reaching out with claw-like fingers to wrap around his neck. He tried to scream but could only manage a strangled whimper as it dragged him across the floor toward the open doorway and into the darkness beyond.

...

 

Randal shot up from bed, his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage. Sweat glistened on his lightly tanned skin as he gasped for breath, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands flew to his neck, searching for any sign of wounds or damage, but found only the smooth, soft flesh beneath his fingers.

His golden eyes darted around, taking in the familiar surroundings—the sunlight streaming through the window, casting a warm glow on the tiny space of his room, hearing the distant crowing of roosters echoing from outside.

Randal let out a shaky sigh, relief washing over him as he realized it was only a nightmare. "It's okay. It was just a bad dream," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. Closing his eyes, the boy ran his shaky hand through his raven-black hair, tousling the strands and waiting for his breathing to calm.

After a few minutes had passed, Randal finally managed to pull himself out of bed, stretching his sore body with a soft groan. Despite his young age, the boy, despite being lean, already possessed well-defined muscles, thanks to countless hours of training with his father.

Once he had dressed in clean clothes—a simple, rough grey tunic and pants—Randal grabbed his boots and slid them on before opening the door to his room. The familiar space of their living room greeted him: an old table with mismatched chairs, a few cabinets lining the wooden walls, and a fireplace that still held embers from last night's fire.

As Randal glanced around, one thing became apparent. His father, Haldor, was nowhere to be seen. His bed in the corner remained untouched, the blankets neatly folded at the end of the mattress. "Oh, right... he went hunting yesterday," Randal muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Unlocking the back door, Randal stumbled outside and breathed deeply in the fresh morning air. The chill of early spring clung to the breeze, making him slightly shiver as he inhaled the crisp scent of damp earth and newly blooming flowers.

The sun had only begun its ascent into the sky, casting an orange hue across the horizon and painting the clouds in shades of pink and purple. Birds sang cheerfully from their perches on nearby trees, filling the air with sweet melodies. Beyond the wooden fence surrounding their property, he could see their neighbors' houses dotting the green landscape.

Randal reached the chicken coop, the scent of feathers and damp straw filling his nostrils as he opened the hatch. The birds clucked softly, their eyes blinking in the sudden burst of sunlight before they scattered across the yard, pecking at the dirt and grass with eager beaks.

As he collected eggs from the nesting hens, Randal's mind wandered back to the nightmare that had woken him earlier. The faceless creature with its gangly limbs and soulless black eyes haunted his thoughts, sending a shiver down his spine every time his mind pictured it.

Shaking off the disturbing images, Randal continued his chores and headed towards the barn. Pushing open the heavy wooden doors revealed the familiar pungent stench of animal dung that clung to his nostrils. The dim light filtering through the dusty windows illuminated the space filled with haystacks, tools hanging from rusted nails, and various farming implements scattered about.

The next hour passed in a blur as Randal tended to the animals: cleaning their pens, shoveling fresh straw and hay, feeding them grain and vegetables, and filling their water troughs. He even collected a few more eggs the chickens laid throughout the morning.

As Randal finished his tasks, a deep voice rumbled behind him, "Good morning, Randal."

He spun around, his eyes widening, as he saw his father, Haldor, standing in the doorway. His face was framed by a messy beard, grey mixed with black, and deep wrinkles etched into his forehead and cheeks. Black hair was also streaked with grey, tied back into a short ponytail, while his golden eyes, an exact copy of Randal's own, shone with warmth and love.

Haldor wore worn leather clothes that clung to his lean, muscular frame: a coat that had seen better days, pants held up by suspenders, and sturdy boots caked with mud from last night's hunting trip. He had slung a bow over his shoulder, its string dampened by the morning dew, and a quiver of arrows rested against his hip.

In his scarred and calloused hands, he clutched a large bundle of dead rabbits, their brown fur matted with blood and dirt, heads dangling limply from his grasp. A satisfied smirk played on his lips as he took in Randal's appearance—dusty clothes, sweaty face, and rosy cheeks flushed from exertion.

— "Dad! You're back!" Randal exclaimed, dropping the pitchfork he'd been holding and rushing forward to greet him. "Welcome home," he beamed, happy to see his father back home.

"How's my little man doing?" Haldor asked, ruffling Randal's hair affectionately as he set the bundle of rabbits on a nearby table. "Got any lasses hidden somewhere in here?"

Randal groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Daaaad! You're being stupid," he laughed, shaking his head. "No, I don't have any girls hidden away."

"Ah, well," Haldor chuckled, shrugging his shoulders and giving Randal a playful pat on the back. "I missed you, son. Have you started practicing your affinity yet? You promised me you would." His tone grew serious as he raised an eyebrow at his son.

"Uhm, well... I was planning to do it after chores," Randal replied sheepishly, rubbing his nose and avoiding his father's gaze. "I wanted to make sure everything is taken care of before-"

"Hmph, I see," Haldor sighed, interrupting him as he began skinning the rabbits with practiced ease using the knife from his boot. "You know, forget about it. I suppose we can make an exception today. Today is Eldernight, remember?" He glanced up at Randal, his expression softening.

Randal's face fell, his eyes widening slightly. "Oh, that's right... We're going to visit them, aren't we?" he asked quietly, chewing on his lower lip—a habit he couldn't break when nervous or upset.

"Yes," Haldor confirmed, solemnly nodding as he continued working. "It is the tradition, after all. I believe they would be happy to see us." He paused before giving him an order, "Now, wash yourself while I make us a proper breakfast."

"Okay," Randal agreed softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be right back to help you, Dad," he added before stepping outside the barn and heading towards their cozy house.

...

 

"Want to go fishing right after, son?" Haldor asked as he pulled off his blood-stained tunic and hung it to dry, taking a clean one—a simple brown cloth with a rough weave. He slipped on grey pants, patched at the knees from years of wear, and draped a green woolen cloak over his broad shoulders. The garment had seen better days, frayed and faded by countless washings, but it still provided warmth when the chill crept in. "It's been a while," he added, glancing at the boy.

— "Sure thing, Dad. Let's go to the lake," Randal nodded enthusiastically, wiping the remnants of porridge from his mouth with the back of his hand before swallowing the last bite. He stood up, washing his hands in the bucket by the door, and grinned. "I'm going to catch more fish than you this time."

Haldor let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "We'll see about that," he replied, grabbing two fishing poles from the corner. The rods were old; years of use had worn the wood smooth, but they remained sturdy and reliable. He gave one to Randal before he stuffed a loaf of coarse bread into his pocket, the rough texture scratching his fingers.

— "Thanks," Randal said, taking the pole. He followed Haldor outside, their boots sinking slightly into the damp earth after last night's rain.

As they walked on the dirt road, Randal glanced around, noticing how the village slowly stirred awake. The sounds of livestock filled the air: cows mooing, sheep bleating, and pigs grunting. Carts rumbled past, drawn by horses guided by their drivers towards their destinations. Women scrubbed clothes against washboards in large basins, their arms working tirelessly to remove stubborn stains. Others chopped vegetables and stirred pots over crackling fires, preparing breakfasts for their families.

No one paid much attention to the father and son as they walked along the road's edge, passing through the village center. Everyone was too busy with their matters.

— "I had that dream again last night," Randal muttered, his golden eyes fixed on his boots as he kicked small rocks out of his path.

Haldor didn't say anything, his brow furrowing as he glanced at the boy beside him. The silence stretched between them, heavy and awkward.

Randal hesitated before speaking up again, "Can you... tell me something about her? Mom, I mean," he asked softly, peeking at his father from the corner of his eye.

Haldor didn't respond immediately, deep in thought. After a few silent moments, he muttered coldly, "What do you want to know?"

— "I don't know..." Randal shrugged, his voice barely above a whisper. "Anything. Do you think she will ever-" But Haldor cut him off, his tone stern and serious.

"She won't return," Haldor stated firmly. "Listen, son, don't think about her anymore. She left us. Forget about her. All that matters is us," he said, placing a calloused hand on Randal's shoulder, gently squeezing it.

Randal's shoulders slumped, his grip tightening around the fishing pole. The strange dreams and nightmares seemed to haunt him as if they were his memories, making him question things he knew

were true. No matter how many times she said how much she loved him in his dreams, the truth his father told was different. She just left.

"Now, enough of this talk," Haldor said, changing the subject as they approached the village's northern edge. "We have somewhere to be, don't we? They're waiting for us," he gave Randal a small, sad smile.

Randal nodded, forcing a smile back. As they walked past a house with a small garden, he spotted a single pink flower hiding in tall grass. He couldn't help but pause and pluck it, holding it gently between his thumb and forefinger as he admired its delicate petals and sniffed its sweet scent.

"Is it for her?" Haldor asked softly, his voice barely audible as he watched Randal's fingers caress the flower.

Randal nodded, his golden eyes gazing at the bloom. "Yeah," he mumbled. "I think she'd like it."

"I'm sure she would," Haldor agreed, patting Randal's back gently before they continued their journey towards the small hill in the distance, with its lonely tree standing tall and proud against the clear blue sky.

Randal's heart pounded as they approached the two small graves beneath the old oak tree. The simple, grey stone tombstones had the names of Thoran and Silvia etched into their surfaces, worn smooth by time and weather. Above Thoran's name was carved a symbol of a sword and shield, while below Silvia's name, a delicate flower bloomed eternally.

Father and son stood there in silence, their eyes of the exact hue fixed on the graves. The wind whispered through their hair and clothing, rustling the grass and leaves around them. The sky above stretched in an endless blue canvas, not a single cloud daring to spoil its perfection.

Haldor motioned towards Silvia's grave with his calloused hand, his voice barely above a whisper, "Place it there."

Randal nodded, stepping forward and gently placing the pink flower he'd picked earlier in front of his sister's stone. He took a moment to trace her name with his fingertips before glancing at his father, expecting some words, but Haldor remained silent; only tears shimmered in his eyes.

The silence dragged on awkwardly before Randal decided to break it. Clearing his throat, he sat beside the graves, his childish voice slightly trembling as he began to speak. "Hey, big brother," he whispered, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He paused before continuing softly, "Hey, sis." A forced smile tugged at his lips. "It's me, Randal."

Haldor closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting the cool breeze wash over his face.

— "It's been... it's been a while," Randal admitted, his voice catching as he fought against the tears stinging his eyes. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. "Not much has changed around here since we last visited you two. The village is still just as boring as ever," he whispered, and a small chuckle escaped him despite feeling sad.

— "Well," Randal said, hesitating for a moment before adding, "There are these new neighbors who moved in about a month ago." He rolled his eyes dramatically. "They're... well, they're strange folks, especially their youngest daughter, Mila. She follows me for no reason, always wants to play with me, but barely speaks," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Haldor's lips twitched, a hint of a smile threatening to surface as he listened to his son complaining about the girl. It was new. "So you had a lass in that barn after all," he couldn't help but tease gently without opening his eyes. "Remind me to visit my future daughter-in-law's family and ask for their blessing."

— "Da-aad!" Randal groaned loudly, the pink flush spreading across his cheeks at the suggestion of having romantic feelings for Mila. "Eww! No!" He crossed his arms tightly over his chest in protest, pouting.

Haldor just chuckled softly, opening his eyes and shaking his head. "Alright, alright," he said, holding up his hands in surrender. But the smile remained on his lips, contrasting with his tear-stained cheeks.

Randal let out a soft sigh as he glanced back at the tombstones. "Anyway..." he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. Suddenly, his face lit up with excitement as he remembered something. "Oh! I got my affinity two months ago!" he declared proudly, puffing out his chest. "Same as dad's—fire! Can you believe it? And I even learned my first spell already!"

— "Let me show you... here," Randal said before he stood up eagerly, dusting off the knees of his pants. Holding his hand before him, palm facing upward, he whispered a barely understandable sentence, "Vora-tha ignis kale-tha manu, temporis brevis..." his brow furrowed with each syllable, feeling the heat build within him as it traveled from his chest to his fingertips the more he repeated the words. "Vora-tha ignis kale-tha manu, temporis brevis..."

Sweat beaded on Randal's forehead, making his raven-black hair stick to his skin. A few tense seconds passed before the air above his palm started shimmering, and a small, flickering orange flame appeared.

— "There!" the boy exclaimed, grinning at the tiny fire dancing above his skin. "Cool, right?" he asked, looking down at the stones of his siblings as if expecting them to answer. He quickly closed his fist, extinguishing the flame, realizing how stupid it was to show off in front of their graves. 'What if they got upset because they never had a chance to do something like this?' an awful thought appeared in his mind.

"You did great this time, son. Well done," Haldor nodded, smiling proudly. "I'm sure they would be happy for you," Haldor added as if sensing what he was thinking about.

— "Thanks... Dad," Randal replied, fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. His eyes cast downward as he began mumbling under his breath. "We're still working on the size, though. This church language Dad teaches me is hard—so hard. One little mistake and the whole spell becomes useless. And on top of it all, we must find the sentence structure that works best with my mana..." he sighed, chewing his lower lip anxiously.

"It takes time and practice to get it right. Don't worry," Haldor whispered, finding the courage to step closer to the graves to place a comforting hand on Randal's shoulder. "That's just how magic is."

— "Yeah..." Randal muttered, looking down at his siblings. The silence stretched as the wind rustled through the grass and leaves around them. A distant noise from the village, nothing but a faint hum, reached their ears.

Randal broke the silence after a moment, his voice barely audible. "So... how have you been?" he asked hesitantly, looking at Silvia's grave. His gaze wandered to the pink flower he'd placed in front of her stone, its petals swaying gently with the breeze.

Of course, no response came from the silent grave. Randal swallowed hard as tears welled up in his eyes. His chest felt tight, constricting painfully around his heart.

Haldor noticed how difficult it was for Randal to be here, and he was no different. "Alright, son," he said softly, giving him a sad smile. "We should let them rest now. Let's go."

Randal nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking again, "See you, big brother... sis. I promise I'll do my best to make you proud," he whispered, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic. With one last glance at their graves, he turned around and walked away with his father towards the lake.