Every night, I found myself standing in the same place: a vast, golden forest stretching as far as the eye could see.
The air was thick with the scent of ancient trees, and the soft hum of something beyond comprehension filled the atmosphere. The warmth of the sun crept over the land, bathing everything in a gentle golden light. But something was off. It was always quie. Too quiet. No birds. No rustling of leaves. Just an eerie stillness that made my skin prickle.
"Not again…" I muttered, my voice a mere whisper in the silence. I had come to dread this dream, though I couldn't stop it from coming each time I closed my eyes.
I stood motionless, but the land beneath my feet seemed to hum, as though it pulsed with a living energy. It felt as if something — or someone — was watching me.
Then, a voice — a woman's voice — pierced through the silence. Soft, melodic, yet commanding. The words came broken, like a half-remembered song I couldn't quite grasp.
"The future… woven in the threads of the soul…"
I frowned, tilting my head. What? What are you trying to say?
I murmured, my voice vanishing into the wind.
The voice continued, growing faint, almost as if the words were slipping through my fingers.
"… the one must choose, but the path is torn…"
I strained to listen, stepping forward, desperate to catch even a fragment more.
"Wait…!"
But the voice kept fading, dissolving further into the distance with every breath.
Suddenly, the ground beneath me quaked. A powerful gust of wind tore through the forest, and the golden world around me began to blur.
I reached out, my fingers grasping at nothing .
"But... why?" I shouted, but it was too late. The moment shattered. My eyes fluttered open, the remnants of the dream evaporating into thin air. I groaned, sitting up in bed. The bedsheets were tangled around my legs.
I rubbed my eyes as the sunlight filtered through the windows of the palace, casting long shadows across the room.
My room- well,my entire palace, really was a masterpiece of golden columns and velvet curtains. But, I can't be bothered to appreciate it right now.
"Again? Really? This is getting old."
The dream. The voice. I couldn't place it, but it felt... important.
The sensation of something massive, a weight on my chest. I sighed and swung my legs off the side of the bed. My feet hit the marble floor with a soft thud. I was still half-dazed, my golden hair sticking out in every direction like a bird's nest.
"What the hell was that dream? Prophecies? Threads? Some cryptic voice? ... Ah, typical. Can't even get a full night's rest without the universe sending me mixed signals." I said, spreading my arms wide as though I had just conquered the world.
"And I'm not cut out for confusing messages before breakfast." I reached for the jug of ambrosia on my nightstand and took a swig.
"Not even a decent dream. Just threads. Who's ever heard of a prophecy about threads?" I took another swig of ambrosia, staring at my reflection in the mirror like it held the answers to the universe.
(Ambrosia. Ever heard of it? No? Okay then. It's basically the gods' secret smoothie that keeps us annoyingly immortal and ridiculously good-looking. Sorry, mortals—no recipe available.)
"Must be all the work. Too much time spent with the sun... frying my brain."
"I'm too good for these riddles anyway," I muttered. My face scrunched in thought.