Dragons - Guardian of the Spirits

"Sophia…"— A voice whispered in her ear.

Opening her eyes, Celine found herself in a completely white and empty space.

"Do you know who I am?" the voice asked.

Celine immediately turned in the direction of the voice, finding nothing. Narrowing her eyes as she surveyed her surroundings, she realized there was only one sound: the uncontrollable pounding of her heart.

Suddenly, it felt as though someone was watching her. A hand appeared on her shoulder, and her body froze at the touch. Celine could only stare at the emptiness in front of her.

The person behind her didn't seem to notice her discomfort or, perhaps, didn't care.

Leaning closer, the figure spoke near her ear.

"My dear…"

Shivers ran through Celine's body. Though paralyzed, she couldn't help trembling. The figure noticed and smiled before asking — "Don't you recognize me?"

When she didn't respond, the warmth in his expression was replaced by a coldness that sent a chill down her spine. Releasing her shoulder, the figure stepped back.

Finally free, Celine turned to face him. Before her stood a handsome man with long silver hair and white robes. His eyes, unlike anything she had ever seen or heard described, made her breath catch. His expression, filled with disgust, further unsettled her.

The man approached, and Celine's body refused to move.

An odd sensation arose in her chest. Looking down, she saw blood streaming from where the man's hand pierced her chest.

"Since you don't recognize me anymore, I have no reason to let you live," he said.

Though his voice carried a note of sadness, his expression remained cold.

Celine couldn't breathe. Writhing in agony, she clung to the man, who pulled his bloody hand free. Instead of fingers, his hand bore long, claw-like appendages. Her vision dimmed as she looked into his disgusted eyes. Moments later, darkness consumed her.

The world fell silent. The pounding of her heart stopped. Then, a faint sound pierced the void, distant and persistent—a bird's chirp.

Celine opened her eyes with a sharp gasp, her body jerking upright as if escaping the clutches of death itself. Her breath came in ragged bursts, and she pressed a trembling hand to her chest, feeling her heart hammering wildly beneath her palm. The warmth of her bedspread and the faint glow of daylight filtering through the curtains slowly brought her back to reality. The strange, cold touch still lingered faintly on her skin, making her shudder.

She looked around the room, her gaze darting to every shadowy corner, searching for... something. But it was just her bedroom, serene and quiet. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as the tension in her body began to dissipate.

Through the transparent curtains, she scanned her surroundings, sighing in relief when she realized she was alone.

Lifting the curtain, she climbed down from her bed and walked to the window. Peering outside, she opened the long curtains, letting daylight bathe her face. From there, she could see a large garden and, beyond that, immense greenhouses. These were the plantations of the northern kingdom, a place that spent most of the year blanketed in snow.

Opening the window, Celine breathed in the crisp, fresh air. The day was clear, and the snow glittered under the sunlight. She left the window ajar and moved to her desk, retrieving a small notebook from a drawer. Opening it, she tried to write but hesitated. What had frightened her moments ago?

Placing a hand on her chest, Celine closed her eyes. The unsettling feeling lingered. She tried to recall her dream, and then a sudden memory surfaced, making her eyes widen.

Eyes...

She stared at the page, her pen staining it with ink. A single sentence formed on the paper: "Snake Eyes."

Fixating on the inkblot between the words, she struggled to summon the courage to remember. This time, her mind drew a blank.

A knock at the door startled her, and she nearly jumped from her chair. In her haste, she smeared the page again. Grabbing a handkerchief to dry the stain, she heard a voice from outside. It was the servants that came to assist her for the morning.

Closing the notebook with a snap, she tossed it into the drawer and calmly invited them in.

The door opened, and a small group entered, bustling about the room. They folded the covers and selected her outfit for the day. One servant approached and asked Celine which attire she preferred.

— The same as always — she replied, waving dismissively.

Guided by a maid, Celine stepped into a small adjoining room where she washed her face and dressed with their assistance. Afterward, she moved to another wing where breakfast awaited.

The remnants of the dream weighed on her as she ate slowly, trying to piece together fragments of her memory. The servants stood patiently, waiting for her to finish.

Noticing her unusual demeanor, her personal servant, Suna, raised a hand to dismiss the others. When the room cleared, Celine finally spoke.

— Suna, when we don't clearly remember a dream but the feeling it leaves still haunts us, what should we do? — she asked.

Suna smiled gently. — If you don't remember, my lady, the dream wasn't important enough for your mind to retain.

Celine stared at her before resuming her meal. As she chewed a piece of cake, a thought crossed her mind: 'But the feeling was strong enough to linger in my chest. How can it not be relevant?'

Suddenly, a letter appeared beside her plate. She looked at Suna, whose kind expression remained unchanged. With a wary glance, she opened the envelope and scanned the signature: "Lord Aillard."

Her fingers tightened around the letter as she read its contents:

"I won't be able to see you off. Isleen will explain what you need to know for this trip."

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she slipped the letter back into the envelope and handed it to Suna. Without a word, she returned to her breakfast.