Chapter 15 — Awakening from a Dream
The burning tree branches began dropping into the swamp, hissing as they struck the mire.
Suddenly—boom!
A blue flame erupted from the depths of the swamp like an underground explosion. The blast tore through the mire, incinerating thousands of centipedes and alligators in an instant.
With that, a chain reaction began.
Soma staggered midair, eyes wide. His mind reeled—where was this blue fire coming from? He had expected burning wood and smoke, but this was different. Alien. Terrifying.
The fire burst brighter, larger—erupting like a field of land mines. Each detonation sent shockwaves slamming outward, cracking the swamp water like thunder. The blasts created sonic booms so violent the air itself trembled. The shockwave hit Soma square in the chest, the impact hurling his body backward.
Coughing hard, Soma clutched his ribs. The impact felt as if someone had struck him with a sledgehammer.
All around, the mire exploded. Blue flames tore upward in pillars, killing thousands of creatures in seconds. Corpses—mangled, charred, ripped apart—were hurled into the air and rained down into the boiling swamp.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Soma forced himself upward, flying against the rippling force, climbing higher into the smoke-thick sky to escape the deadly blasts.
From above, he saw it all—an unimaginable, horrifying scene. The swamp looked like doomsday itself.
The mangrove's hollow body burned from the inside out, twisting, writhing like a boneless hand. Its crimson bark split open, and fire gushed out of the cracks like blood. Corpses choked the swamp. Black smoke poured into the sky, swallowing the twin suns.
Through the smoke, countless drifting souls flickered. They scattered everywhere, glowing white and blue, like stars smeared across the night sky.
But Soma dared not go near the swamp. Those sonic booms were unbearably powerful.
And as more time passed, the swamp grew even more violent. Every new eruption birthed another sonic boom, shattering the air with bursts of heat so fierce that even flocks of fleeing birds were torn apart, their bodies falling, smoking, into the mire.
Still he waited, circling above, muscles tense. The swamp wasn't just burning—it was convulsing like a living thing.
Then his heart clenched.
Through the dark haze, he saw it—souls beginning to dim, their glow flickering like dying candles.
"No…" His jaw locked tight. He couldn't let them vanish.
Grinding his teeth, Soma steadied himself and dived. His body folded into the flying squirrel technique, momentum surging through his limbs. The air split against his skin as he shot downward like an arrow, straight into the chaos.
The moment he neared the swamp, it happened.
One by one, countless souls merged into him, as if they too wanted to escape from this hellish nightmare. His body ignited in flashes of white light, bursting again and again, signaling that new power was awakening within him.
His muscles trembled with every surge, but he clenched his fists tight, forced the sensation aside, and focused only on gathering more souls.
Beneath him, the swamp boiled like a cauldron. Thousands of centipedes thrashed in the bubbling water, their armored shells splitting open as heat devoured them. Alligators the size of houses rolled helplessly in the flames, their roars cut short as the blue fire swallowed them whole.
On the edges of the swamp, creatures of every kind—snakes, three-eyed frogs, and giant centipedes—stampeded toward dry land, desperate to escape. But before they reached safety, the blue fire surged outward again, consuming them in waves of shrieking death.
And through it all, Soma hunted.
For two days straight, he soared back and forth above the inferno, gathering as many souls as he could. But still—so many slipped through his fingers, lost forever into the black smoke.
By the end, Soma's limbs hurt like hell. His body faltered, every breath ragged and shallow.
"I… can't move anymore. My body… won't allow it," he rasped, his voice breaking in the choking air.
At last, he forced himself away from the swamp. His body sagged as he drifted back toward dry land, each breath heavy and ragged, his chest still echoing with the thunder of the swamp's fury.
With a dull "thud," Soma dropped onto the ground, gasping for breath. He lay still, chest heaving, eyes locked on the darkening sky. Above, the twin suns vanished behind a wall of dark smoke, and the world plunged into darkness.
He turned his head weakly toward the horizon. The charred wasteland where the red mangrove forest once stood was now nothing but blackened ruin. At its heart, the colossal crimson tree still burned—its trunk cracked open, belching deep, guttural plumes of smoke and toxic gas into the air. The stench of charred flesh and decay rolled through the mountains, thick enough to taste. From the distant jungle came the cries of dying beasts—long, echoing wails that trembled through the air like a dirge for the fallen.
Exhaustion crushed him. His muscles screamed, his lungs burned. Soma closed his eyes and tried to calm his trembling body.
From within that darkness… a faint light appeared.
The silver rune.
It glowed softly in the void of his mind—the same rune with seven rings and a closed eye, the one he had once seen behind the painting of the twin suns.
Before he could react, the central eye snapped open.
A blinding light burst forth, engulfing everything.
Soma jerked awake with a gasp. The world spun around him, melting and twisting like colored wax dripping in fire. His vision blurred—sound and sight dissolved into a roaring hum.
Then everything went black.
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> "I don't know what happened to him. When I found Soma in the storeroom, he was lying unconscious on the floor."
The voice was familiar—warm, trembling, real.
Who… who is that?
Soma's eyelids fluttered. He felt softness beneath him—the give of a mattress. A faint breeze brushed against his cheek. When his eyes opened fully, he saw the ceiling fan turning slowly overhead.
He blinked. My room?
Across the room, his Grandmother sat beside the old computer, speaking into the phone, her voice thick with worry.
"Is it… really my room?" he whispered.
When he called out softly, "Grandma…?"
She turned. The phone slipped from her hand. In an instant she rushed to his side and pulled him into a fierce hug.
"Oh, thank God!" she cried. "You have no idea how scared I was—finding you on the floor like that!"
Soma froze for a moment, then wrapped his arms around her. His throat tightened.
Is this another dream? Or… did I really come back from that world?
He pressed his face into her shoulder.
If this is a dream, he thought, then I don't want to wake up.
A tear slid down his cheek—warm, real, alive.
"I'm so glad you're okay," his grandmother murmured, stroking his hair. "But what happened? Why did you faint like that?"
With a shaky breath, Soma whispered, "I… don't know. But I remember —a rune. I touched it, and it pulled me into another world. I fought beasts there… survived… found Grandfather's notebooks… and somehow, I came back."
Before she could respond, the doorbell rang from downstairs.
Startled, his grandmother wiped her eyes. "Stay here," she said softly, and hurried toward the stairs.
Soma sat still, trying to make sense of everything. His heart pounded. Was it all real? Or just… a dream?
Moments later, she returned with a man in a white coat, a stethoscope hanging around his neck.
Hello, the man said gently as he pulled a wooden chair beside the bed. "I'm Dr. Nilesh Agarwal.
Without waiting for a response, he took Soma's wrist and pressed two fingers over the artery, silently counting the pulse. Then he wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Soma's arm and inflated it with practiced ease, listening through his stethoscope as the pressure released. Only after checking the reading did he finally meet Soma's eyes.
Now then, he said quietly, tell me—what exactly happened before you lost consciousness?
Soma hesitated, then began to explain. Slowly, haltingly, he told them everything: how he had broken the painting, discovered the glowing rune, and performed the blood ritual that had dragged him into the twin-sun world. How he learned to fly, to absorb souls, to bend matter itself. How he found his grandfather's notes—and how he finally escaped.
When he finished, the doctor scribbled something on his pad, frowning slightly. "Anything else? Are you in pain anywhere?"
Soma shook his head. "No."
"Good," the doctor said, smiling faintly. "Then don't worry, boy. It was nothing but a bad dream."
He tore the page from his pad and kept writing.
Soma's eyes widened. "A dream? But it can't be! Everything was so real—every sound, every feeling—"
I understand, Dr. Agarwal interrupted kindly. But according to your story, you spent months in that world. Yet here, you were unconscious for only three hours. The mind can be… a very convincing storyteller.
Soma stared in disbelief. Three hours? His chest tightened. No… that's impossible.
You say you could bend matter in that world, right?" the doctor said, chuckling as he handed Soma a pen. Go on then—try bending this.
Soma took the pen, his hand trembling. He focused, channeling his will the way he used to in that world—imagining it bending, reshaping, transforming.
But nothing happened. Seconds passed, then a full minute. Sweat trickled down his forehead, but the pen didn't even tremble.
Finally, the doctor ruffled his hair and stood. See? I told you—it was just a dream. Still, even if you ever did have powers like that, he added with a grin, don't go telling scientists about it. Who knows what kind of experiments they'd put you through, eh?
He chuckled under his breath and straightened his coat. Then he tore the prescription from his pad, handed it to Savitri, and tucked the notepad back into his pocket.
Soma sat frozen on his bed, the pen still clenched in his fist, his reflection faint in its metallic surface.
Dream… or not?
The ceiling fan spun endlessly above, chasing the air in circles—just as his thoughts circled the same impossible question.
And somewhere, beyond the hum of the room and the ordinary light of morning, the faint rhythm of dripping water echoed in his mind.