Celeste stood quietly inside the museum, her eyes locked on the floating projection before her—a grainy, holographic image replaying a key moment from the war against the Behemoth.
But while her gaze remained fixed on the brutal battle scene—soldiers shouting, mana blasts illuminating the sky—her mind wasn't really there. It had wandered far, to a place only she could reach.
To her dreams.
Ever since her awakening had begun, those hazy, surreal dreams had gradually grown more vivid, more coherent. They no longer slipped away like morning fog at first light. Now, she could see specific images—faces, places, even hear voices. And yet, the more she saw, the less she understood.
Because clarity, ironically, brought even more confusion.
