Alexander awoke to the same golden sunrise spilling over the same fields, the same bleating of goats, the same smell of fresh earth carried on a breeze that never seemed to change. He ate breakfast with his father at the same wooden table, worked the same rows of crops, and heard Wendy's voice calling him from the well or the path every afternoon.
At first, it was comforting. But now, the loop pressed down on him like chains. The routine no longer soothed; it suffocated.
The farm was warm and the laughter perfect, as if rehearsed. When Wendy's hand brushed his, her skin felt real, soft and warm, but the moment ended too quickly, leaving a cold hollow feeling.
And every time he caught himself drifting into contentment, the memory of fire flashes in his mind. The hiss of molten stone, the burn of sweat, the pain of wounds. His true life.
This is not real.
He told himself that over and over, but the more he clung to it, the harder the illusion fought back.
The days looping, conversations repeating with only the faintest variation. He would walk into the barn and see his father waiting there, only to see him again an hour later in the exact same pose, speaking the exact same words.
Then it grew more forceful. His father's voice sharpened. His gaze was no longer simply warm, but heavy with expectation.
"You'll inherit this land, Alex. You'll work it. You'll raise your children here, as I raised you. That's how it's always been."
The words struck deeper than any blade. Because they were familiar. Because he had once wanted nothing more than to live quietly, to follow in his father's steps.
"But…" Alexander's throat tightened. "That's not who I am. That's not who I'm meant to be."
His father's weathered hand gripped his shoulder, strong as iron. "Don't be a fool, boy. Dreams are for men with no duties. You have everything you need right here. Land. Family. A future."
The weight in those words made his knees shake. Wasn't that what he wanted? Peace? Security? To stop fighting, stop struggling, stop bleeding for a world that had only ever mocked him?
He almost said yes. His mouth opened but then quickly snapped shut. A memory burned through the fog. The pain of pushing through the trials. The fire in his chest. His vow to be the strongest.
He stepped back, voice full of confidence. "No. I will be more than this."
His father's face hardened. His eyes, once kind, blazed with accusation. "Ungrateful boy. After everything I gave you, you'd throw it away for a fantasy?"
The illusion cut at him with guilt sharper than any blade. But he shrugged it off, knowing that he promised to himself that he will prove everyone wrong.
That night, Wendy found him again sitting on the porch, staring at the illusion of endless stars.
"You've been strange lately," she said, settling beside him. Her auburn hair shimmered in the moonlight. Her voice was soft, almost pleading. "Distant."
He said nothing. Words felt stuck in his mouth.
"You don't want to stay, do you?" she whispered.
His chest twisted. He turned toward her, searching her face. "Wendy…"
Her eyes brimmed with tears. "Why not? Isn't this enough? We could be happy here. You and me. Always. You don't have to chase pain. You don't have to fight. Just stay."
The words pierced him deeper than his father's accusations ever could. Because Wendy wasn't duty, wasn't expectation. She was warmth, laughter, the one person who had always stood by him. And she was offering him everything he had ever wanted: love, belonging, peace.
He could see it already. Years spent together in the village. Marrying, raising children, watching them run through the fields while the sun set behind the hills. No more fighting. No more loneliness. Just… peace.
For one, terrifying heartbeat, he wanted it.
He wanted it so badly his hands shook.
But then, her face blurred, switching between Wendy and a stranger. Her voice wavered, distorted. The stars above them melted like dying candles.
It wasn't real.
And if he accepted it, he would die here, alone, clinging to a lie.
His voice was raw, breaking as he forced the words out. "You're not real, Wendy. None of this is real."
Her eyes widened, tears spilling down her cheeks. "How can you say that? After everything? After all we've shared? Am I nothing to you?"
His heart shattered. He wanted to take it back, to cradle her in his arms and say yes, yes she was everything. But he couldn't. Because she wasn't Wendy. Not truly. She was a shadow, a chain meant to bind him here.
He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "You're not nothing. You're… everything I wanted. That's why I have to let you go."
Her expression twisted, grief warping into fury. Her voice cracked into hundreds of voices, overlapping. "Coward. Selfish boy. You'll die alone, unloved, forgotten. You'll regret this!"
The world screamed. The farmhouse cracked, splitting apart into shards of black. The fields dissolved into dust. The sky ripped open and shattered like glass.
Wendy's figure blurred, stretched, and dissolved into nothing. Her final cry etched in his mind until it was silence.
Alexander collapsed to his knees in the void, chest heaving. Tears streamed down his face from grief, rage, or relief, he couldn't tell then.
The warmth was gone. The comfort was gone. Only emptiness and his ambition remained.
But it was real.
And he had chosen it.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet. His hands shook, but his eyes burned with resolve. "I won't be bound. Not by lies. Not by comfort. I'll endure."
The void shook and shattered.
He woke on cold stone.
The warmth of the farm was gone, replaced by a vast and familiar empty chamber. Its walls were bare, smooth, stretching into shadow. The silence somewhat comforting.
For a moment, he felt hollow, as though a part of him had been ripped out and left behind in that false world.
Then the air shifted.
A weight settled over him, like the sky itself pressing down. His breath caught as the shadows above him deepened, materializing into form.
Two eyes opened in the dark. Burning, ancient, fathomless.
A massive shape loomed overhead, wings stretching like storm clouds, scales shifting like liquid night. The presence was overwhelming, a force that pierced through him, body and soul.
The dragon watched him in silence, its gaze colder and heavier than anything he had ever experienced.
Alexander's heart pounded, his body felt unease beneath that weight.
The trials are not over, there will be more.
And the true test had only just begun.