Ethereal – Chapter 2
In his dream, he saw himself.
Standing in an endless, dimly lit hall, he walked forward, his footsteps echoing. At the center, a boy sat on the cold stone floor, bound in heavy chains. As Izana approached, the boy lifted his head—his own younger self, staring at him with solemn eyes.
Despite the chains, the child smiled.
"Izana!" The boy reached out a frail hand. "You've grown. You won, right?"
"Won? Won from what?"
The boy's bright yet weary eyes met his.
"Look at you," the child whispered. "You're still young. You will suffer more. But one day, you will find freedom. One day, you will begin a journey toward something greater. One day, you will stand against the wind, unchained. One day, you will dream of her. One day, you will seek her. And one day…" The boy's small hand touched Izana's chest. "You will be free."
Izana jolted awake, his breath uneven. He wiped his face and sat in silence, feeling the lingering weight of the dream. His journey had begun, but where should he go? Where could he find her?
"Search the whole world, right?"
He stepped outside, the early morning light bathing the valley in gold. The dark oak forest stood tall, its towering trees stretching toward the sky. Dew glistened on the leaves, catching the sunlight in scattered reflections. Mist curled through the trees like wandering spirits. The crisp scent of earth and wood filled his lungs as he moved through the quiet forest, the gentle rustling of leaves his only companion.
At last, he reached a riverbank. The water shimmered, clear and untainted, flowing over smooth stones, its surface dancing with golden hues from the rising sun. Dragonflies hovered above the water, their iridescent wings catching the light as fish swam beneath.
His stomach rumbled.
"I'm hungry," he muttered to himself.
He sharpened a wooden stick, wading into the river with careful steps. With a swift motion, he caught a fish, its silver scales glistening. He built a small fire, the scent of roasting fish filling the air as he sat by the river's edge. The water's lullaby was soothing, each ripple carrying unspoken words.
Then, a sudden rustle.
A tiny fox, no bigger than his forearm, leaped through the grass, its fur a brilliant shade of amber. It hopped and played, its tiny paws disturbing the fallen leaves. But the moment it spotted him, it hesitated, ears twitching.
Izana held out a piece of fish. "You must be hungry, little one."
The fox sniffed the air, eyes darting between Izana and the offering. Hesitantly, it crept forward, snatching the fish before retreating a few steps. But after devouring the meal, it looked at him again, this time with less fear.
He reached out slowly. The fox flinched but didn't run.
Finally, his fingers brushed against its soft fur.
The tiny creature's tail flicked, then suddenly, it jumped toward him, playfully pawing at his leg before dashing away into the trees.
"You have a family, don't you?" Izana murmured, watching it disappear.
His lips curled into a faint smile. "But… I enjoyed this moment with you."
He rose and continued his journey.
Memories of the Past
The scent of lilies. The warmth of sunlight filtering through the trees. The softness of a girl lying against his chest.
Rosita.
"If you ever leave… where should I search for you?" he had asked, brushing strands of hair from her face.
"If I go somewhere…" she whispered, her fingers interlacing with his, "find me in the northern village. A place with a riverbank so clear, it mirrors the sky. A hillside where the wind sings through the white lilies. A forest where the trees tell stories. A mountain standing tall, watching over it all."
"Will you wait for me, Rosita?"
She squeezed his hand.
"I'll wait… until my very last day."
He had held her tighter, as if afraid she'd slip away.
Now, he was heading north.
Walking. Walking.
The road faded, swallowed by untamed wilderness. Trees stretched endlessly, their branches intertwining like outstretched hands. The mountain loomed ahead, its peak piercing the clouds.
He placed a hand on his chest, steadying himself. Then, step by step, he climbed.
The wind howled, wrapping around him like unseen arms. His fingers scraped against the rough rock. His legs burned. But he kept going.
Halfway up, exhaustion overtook him. He slumped onto the cool stone.
Nearby, a wild rose bush bloomed. Among the thorns, a single red rose stood in defiance of the harsh mountain air. A sudden gust sent a petal drifting toward him.
He caught it in his palm.
"You're red, aren't you?" he whispered.
Lifting his gaze, he took in the breathtaking sight below—the vast, endless forest stretching beyond the horizon. The river he had crossed shimmered under the evening sky, reflecting the colors of the setting sun.
Birds flew home, their tiny silhouettes trailing the golden light.
He thought of his little sister.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. The silence of the mountains embraced him.
A sad smile played on his lips.
"Am I happy? Or… am I not?"
He clenched his fists.
"I want to be happy," he whispered.
Then, louder.
"I want to be happy!"
His voice echoed against the mountains, but only the wind answered.
His chest tightened. His throat burned. Tears slipped down his face.
"Why?" His voice broke. "Why do I feel like this?"
The wind brushed against him, gentle and warm, as if comforting him.
"I'm here, Izana."
A voice. Soft. Familiar.
"Don't cry."
"You're strong, kid."
"Stronger than anyone."
His hands trembled. "I can't… I can't hold this anymore. I feel lonely. I'm afraid."
He curled up, exhausted from everything—the journey, the sorrow, the weight of memories. Lying on the cool grass, he gazed at the stars.
"Why are you so far away?"
He realized something.
"When something is distant, we cherish it more."
But… was that truly right?
Was it only distance that made things precious? Or was it regret? Guilt? The scars of the past?
His fingers dug into the grass.
"Can I sleep now?" he whispered.
The wind embraced him. It felt like her touch, as if she were there, patting his head. His eyes grew heavy. His tears didn't stop, but they no longer felt unbearable.
As he drifted into sleep, he dreamed.
A girl running through a sunlit field. Her laughter ringing in the air. He couldn't see her face.
A little girl, running alone.
"It's a dream, right?" he murmured.
The wind answered with silence.
Breathing softly, he slept—lost in dreams of the past, of the future, of something ethereal.