Sleep pulled Elena under like a warm ocean…
but instead of darkness, she fell into a memory she did not remember ever living.
A dream—
or something deeper.
The world around her shimmered into existence:
a barren forest, charred trees, cracked earth, wind howling like a broken flute.
She looked down—
She was barefoot.
Wearing white.
A loose, soft white gown that swayed around her ankles like mist.
She was standing outside the Valley wall.
Alone.
Weak.
Half-conscious.
Her lips were murmuring something she couldn't hear—like a lullaby, or a plea. She swayed, dizzy, as the world tilted.
Then—
voices.
Rough. Sharp. Suspicious.
"Commander! Something's there!"
"Looks human—?"
"No, impossible. No humans outside the Valley survive."
"Could be a disguised monster!"
Elena lifted her head slowly.
A group of six blurred shapes approached—
their armors glowing, weapons ready, energy swirling around them.
She recognized them instantly even in dream-form—
Lucy, Marge, Luther, Martin, Homer…
And Aren.
He stood at the front, sword drawn, lightning cracking around him like a living storm.
His eyes narrowed as he saw her.
"Everyone stay behind," Aren ordered. "If it moves wrong, kill it."
Elena's dream-self swayed again, barely standing.
Lucy whispered sharply, "Commander… she looks like us."
"Monsters disguise themselves," Luther said coldly. "Don't trust the appearance."
Marge tensed, flames dancing along her arms.
"Commander, she's too calm. Too quiet. It's suspicious."
Elena tried to speak—
but her voice came out broken, half-whispered fragments.
"…help… please… help…"
Martin stiffened. "It talks."
Homer shook his head. "Commander, that doesn't mean—"
Before he could finish—
Aren strode forward.
He grabbed Elena by the arm firmly but not cruelly.
His lightning flickered painfully close to her skin, but he did not shock her.
"Look at me," he demanded.
Her dream-self's head lifted weakly, eyes unfocused.
Aren stared into her face…
and something flickered in his expression—surprise, confusion, a strange recognition he could not explain.
"Commander?" Lucy asked quietly. "What should we do?"
Aren's voice cut the air.
"We're taking her to the laboratory."
Everyone balked.
"WHAT?!"
"Commander—she could be a monster!"
"A disguised creature could infect the entire Valley!"
"We can't risk taking it inside!"
Aren's jaw tightened.
"If she is a monster…" he said slowly, "I will kill her myself."
The group fell silent.
Slowly—reluctantly—they obeyed.
Aren bent down and lifted her into his arms.
Her dream-self pressed weakly into his chest, eyes rolling back.
He paused.
Just for a heartbeat.
Then carried her through the glowing barrier, into the heart of the Valley.
---
THE LABORATORY
The dream shifted—
now Elena was lying on a cold metal examination bed, white lights glowing above.
Machines hummed.
Energy detectors beeped softly.
Scientists whispered nervously.
"Scan her Core."
"Does she have an element?"
"Is she corrupted?"
"Is she human?"
Aren stood beside the bed, arms crossed, expression a stone mask.
Lucy, Marge, Luther, Martin, Homer stood behind him—
alert, tense, ready to kill if needed.
One scientist approached Aren hesitantly.
"Commander… there is… a problem."
Aren's eyes sharpened. "Speak."
"We scanned her four times."
"No energy signatures."
"No corruption."
"No elemental core. Nothing."
Lucy whispered, horrified:
"Nothing…? But she looks human—"
The scientist swallowed hard.
"She doesn't look human, Commander."
"She is human."
A collective gasp filled the room.
Martin shook his head. "Impossible. Humans disappeared generations ago."
Homer stared, stunned. "But… she's exactly like the old descriptions."
Marge stepped forward. "Then how is she alive? Humans can't survive outside the Valley."
Luther muttered, "Unless she's some kind of experiment."
Aren said nothing.
He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the sleeping Elena.
He reached out and touched her wrist lightly—
the very place her Core would someday glow.
A tiny electricity spark jumped between his skin and hers.
Aren flinched.
"…she reacted to my energy."
Lucy gasped. "Commander—what does that mean?"
Aren didn't look away from Elena.
"It means," he said quietly, "she's not a monster."
He straightened slowly.
"And she is not a threat."
His voice hardened like steel.
"She stays."
No one dared argue.
Clara, who had been quietly watching from the corner, whispered:
"Commander… she needs rest. And food. And warmth."
Aren nodded once.
"Prepare a room for her. Clean clothes. Soft bedding. Everything."
"Aren—" Luther began.
"NO arguments," Aren snapped. "I will decide her fate."
He lifted Elena again—carefully—cradling her against his chest.
She murmured faintly, the dream echoing in Elena's sleeping ears:
"…aren… don't leave…"
Aren froze.
His breath hitched.
The others stared in shock.
Aren cleared his throat sharply. "She's delirious."
But the crack in his voice gave him away.
He carried her out of the laboratory—
past staring scientists—
toward the warm chambers of the Commander's wing.