Several days passed without dreams.
Alex slipped back into his routine, the vision fading bit by bit—until it returned.
This time, it began exactly where it had left off.
The traveler had returned to the village.
When he stepped into the tavern, the owner’s face lit up with recognition.
“Welcome back! Staying awhile this time?” the owner asked warmly.
The traveler smiled. “Maybe it wasn’t time to leave after all.”
The owner nodded and led him upstairs, unlocking the same room he’d stayed in before.
Before entering, the traveler paused.
“Did you see what happened that day? Do you know what that was?”
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The owner spoke with calm certainty.
“There’s nothing to hide. We have a queen—our muse. Her family is said to be descended from the divine. When she plays, her music heals, moves, and comforts. It goes straight to the heart.”
His voice softened.
“That day, she played a requiem—a final farewell for the enemy soldiers. The messengers came and took them away.”
He lowered his voice further.
“We’ve all sworn loyalty to her. She protects us, and we protect her. She has a beautiful heart—and because of that, other kingdoms fear her. Sometimes they try to take her away.”
The traveler listened, struggling to reconcile what he had seen.
It felt like a dream—but he had lived it.
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So he stayed.
He became part of the village, teaching the young men swordplay.
When the grape harvest came, the whole village celebrated—barefoot in the press, laughter echoing across the hills.
In the midst of the revelry, he saw the queen among the women—radiant, laughing.
For a moment, she was simply another young woman.
She saw him and climbed down from the press.
“Hello,” she said, her smile genuine. “I’m glad you’re still here.”
He smiled. “This village is so comfortable, it’s hard to leave.”
She chuckled. “I know. But winter is coming soon. We get heavy snow. It’s easy to get stuck here until spring.”
And just as she predicted, snow soon blanketed the village.
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Winter brought quiet days.
During one fierce storm, the villagers gathered in the castle for warmth.
They sat by the fire, asking the traveler to tell stories of faraway lands.
He shared his tales, and laughter filled the hall.
Queen Séraphine listened quietly, her chin resting on her knees.
At one point, she murmured, “We have a lake here, but I’ve never seen the ocean. I envy you. I want to see it one day.”
He looked at her, certain. “You will. Someday, you’ll see it.”
They smiled—an unspoken promise between them.
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Spring returned, painting the village with new color and life.
One day, the queen asked him to accompany her to the plateau where they’d first met.
“I wanted to show you this,” she said, her voice bright. “I couldn’t wait for spring.”
The fields were bursting with wildflowers. The view stole his breath.
After that, they spent more time together—riding through the fields, sharing stories and laughter.
To others, they looked like young lovers, their joy carried on the wind.
But one morning, something changed.
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She canceled their plans, saying her horse had fallen ill.
Worried, he went to the stables.
He found her kneeling beside the mare, gently massaging its legs, tears glistening in her eyes.
“She’s been with me since before I was born,” she whispered. “She’s carried me through everything—but now it’s time to say goodbye.”
He stayed beside her in silence, offering only the comfort of being there.
A few days later, he returned. The mare was gone.
He turned toward the stables—but the queen appeared behind him.
“She’s gone,” she said quietly. “The other horses still need training, so I won’t be able to ride with you anymore.”
He held out a hand.
“That’s all right. I came to take you out.”
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He lifted her gently onto his horse.
“Are you sure he can carry two?” she asked, smiling through her grief.
“He’s strong. He can handle it.”
She closed her eyes, letting the wind brush across her cheeks.
That day, like so many others, was filled with warmth and unspoken feelings.
The village saw them as inseparable.
They truly looked happy.
But one day, her smile changed—faint, sad, burdened.
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“I beg you—please leave the village tomorrow morning,” she whispered.
He stared at her, bewildered. “Why? Why are you saying that?”
“I’m to be married to the king of another land. My parents have accepted the offer. That kingdom is powerful, and they see me as a threat. If I refuse, they’ll invade. But if I marry, our people will be safe.”
Her voice trembled under the weight of her choice.
“I could fight. But I don’t want anyone to die—not for me.”
She turned away, unable to meet his gaze.
“I’ll be leaving next month. Preparations begin tomorrow. I don’t want you to see me become another man’s bride.”
“I understand,” he said softly—and walked away, his heart breaking with each step.
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The next morning, he left the tavern and mounted his horse.
The villagers had already heard. They watched him with sad eyes. Some wept openly.
No one spoke. The silence itself was heavy with shared sorrow.
He rode to the castle for a formal farewell.
Queen Séraphine stood waiting, her eyes red from crying, yet her posture regal even in grief.
“Thank you for everything,” she said. “You’ve given us so much. Please tell us if there’s anything we can do for you.”
He bowed his head.
“I’ve had precious days here. I’ll never forget them. There’s one thing I ask…”
She looked at him, expectant.
“Please, go on.”
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He knelt before her, his decision made.
“I swear loyalty to you, Queen Séraphine. Please—let me stay. Let me serve you.”
She stared at him—then broke into tears, her composure shattering.
“Why…?” she asked between sobs.
“Because I can’t leave you,” he said, his voice unsteady. “It’s too painful. Even if I have to watch you marry someone else—I want to stay.”
She ran into his arms.
He held her tightly as the villagers watched in silence, witnesses to a love that defied reason.
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The alarm blared.
Alex jolted awake, tears clinging to his cheeks.
“…What the hell was that?” he whispered.
But more than anything—he wanted to go back.
He needed to know what happened next.
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