"The dream shatters, and reality bends in a world of crystal and mist. Hori awakens in a body that isn't hers, while Kento stirs in unfamiliar form, memories of loss driving him forward. Arrows fly, fires burn, and the chosen ones are tested beyond anything they've known. Survival, hope, and purpose collide in a realm both beautiful and deadly."
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_DREAMSCAPE_
It was warm. Not the kind of warmth that came from blankets or fireplaces, but something gentler — the warmth of a memory.
Fingers touched softly. Her hand, small and cold, was held tightly by another. A boy's hand. Kento's.
They were walking side by side, snow falling all around them. The streets were full of holiday lights, soft yellow and red blinking through the gentle dusk of Christmas Eve. She remembered how he looked at her that day — eyes filled with resolve. "I'm going to Akira's house tonight," he'd said. "I need to know the truth."
Fear had settled in her chest like ice. The name Akira was tied to danger and death, to something dark and impossible. She wanted to say no. But she didn't. She only nodded, holding his hand tighter.
The dream shifted.
Voices echoed — laughter, footsteps, familiar warmth. Their group was still together back then: Tamiko, with her bright energy. Shiyi, bold and unshaken. Kashima, watching from the side. And Shido — ever quiet, always close to Kento. But that moment, it faded fast.
The plane. Tamiko's body. Her wide eyes staring through the cracked window before the flames took everything.
Everything changed after that.
Shiyi stopped talking. Shut herself away from them. They couldn't reach her anymore, no matter how much they tried. Even brave people break.
Then Kashima left too. He didn't explain. Just vanished from the chats, the meetings, the group they once were.
The dream turned darker.
They were standing in the shrine. The priest's voice rang inside her ears again, twisted and strange. He said she was the chosen one. That fate wasn't something she could change.
Then came the night she discovered the mark.
She had traced it with shaking fingers — that strange, beautiful glow on her skin. She cried alone in her room that night, terrified. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to leave everything behind. Most of all, she didn't want to leave Kento. The idea of never seeing him again crushed her.
Then came the bathroom.
She was sitting in the bathtub, body weak, breath shallow. Her thoughts weren't on pain or fear. Only on her parents — how would they survive? And Kento… he had pleaded with her. Screamed, cried, held her hand.
"I'm not ready," he'd said. "Don't leave me."
And in that final moment, she hadn't wanted to. But her body no longer listened.
She remembered the cold water. The soft light. Kento's face — full of tears.
Then came silence.
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"...Kento," she whispered.
Her voice cracked as her eyes opened. Tears spilled down her cheeks. But Kento wasn't there. She wasn't in a house. She wasn't in a room.
She was lying on a wooden boat — gently rocking in the middle of a wide, silver river. All around her, soft mist curled across the water, glowing faintly in a lavender-tinted dawn.
The castle — the crystal kingdom — stood far behind, its tall towers slowly fading into the mist. It looked both majestic and lonely, like something that didn't belong to this world anymore. The air smelled faintly of flowers, sweet and strange, like memories forgotten.
Two men stood at the front of the boat, rowing silently. Another man and a woman sat nearby, dressed in robes made of smooth fabric that shimmered like moonlight. They wore cloaks stitched with silver threads and strange ornaments shaped like stars and branches.
And Hori — or rather, Leila, the Queen left behind — was dressed in white.
Her dress flowed like water, soft as light. Around her shoulders was a pale blue cloak, fastened by a small crystal. Her long blonde hair was braided with silver, and her skin seemed paler than usual. She looked like a queen from a myth — beautiful, lost, and silent.
But her eyes were red from crying. The boat moved forward, leaving the kingdom behind.
And the girl who once held Kento's hand could only watch in silence, wondering if she was still herself at all.
The name echoed in her mind, a strange melody. 'Leila-sama...' It was warm. The world around her was soft and gentle, a world she had only ever seen in her dreams.
She remembered the first time she had the dream. It was that night, Christmas Eve, when they all went to Akira's house. After facing that evil spirit, her sleep was never the same.
In her dream, she saw a woman. She had long, blonde hair that looked like fine, pale silk, and her eyes were the most beautiful she had ever seen – the clear, delicate blue of a crystal. The woman's smile was soft and kind, and it made Hori feel a little less scared, even in this strange place.
They were in a castle, but it was not like any castle from her world. It was made of pure, shining ice and crystal. The walls and floors glowed with a soft, gentle light. Inside, the woman sat on a swing, made of ice so clear it looked like glass. She swayed back and forth, her laughter like the sound of tiny bells. Hori would just stand there, watching, lost in the beauty of it all.
The blonde woman would tell her things. She spoke of how she had built this castle herself, a long, long time ago, using her own power. She talked about the 'pure world,' saying it was a place full of magic and peace, a world where her people lived and were safe. The stories were like old myths, beautiful but not real.
'What is your name?' Hori finally asked one day in the dream. The girl stopped swinging. She looked at Hori with her crystal-blue eyes and smiled. Slowly, she lifted a finger. But she did not point at herself. She pointed straight at Hori.
"You are Saimori Leila," the girl said, her voice like a whisper. 'No, that's not me,' Hori thought, confused. 'That's not my name.'
But the girl kept smiling. "Yes. Saimori Leila. That is who you are."
'No! My name is Tokisaki Hori!' she thought, louder this time. The more she pushed against the name, the more the beautiful dream started to break. Cracks appeared in the crystal walls. The light began to fade. The girl's smile became sad.
The crystal castle shattered around her.
Hori's eyes opened. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
A cold dread spread through her. Her body felt new, but her mind was old. She looked at her hands, so delicate, so different from her own. She touched her face, her hair, her skin. This was not her. This was Queen Saimori Leila.
The priest's words came back to her, clear as day. 'You are chosen ones.' He had told them they were not just victims, but part of a test. 'This is why. This is why I was killed. Not to die, but to live again... in her body.' The chilling truth settled in her heart, heavy as stone. The curse had not killed her; it had stolen her, and put her here.
But with this cold truth came a small, tiny flame of hope. 'If I was brought here... then maybe Kento... and Shido... maybe they are here too. Maybe they are somewhere else in this world, waiting.' The thought was like a warm blanket, a flash of relief and joy that made her want to cry again, but this time with a new kind of emotion.
The hope lasted only a second.
WHIZZ!
A sharp sound cut through the air. A sudden, burning pain tore through her upper arm. She gasped, a cry of shock and pain. Her hands, which had been touching her face, flew to her shoulder. A feathered arrow was buried in the soft flesh of her arm, and a line of red, warm blood flowed down her pure white dress.
'What... what was that?' Her mind was a whirlwind of confusion. She looked up, her vision blurred with pain, to see where the arrow had come from. But what she saw made her blood run cold.
The boat was silent. The two men who were rowing and the man and woman who had been sitting nearby were all dead. Arrows were sticking out of their chests. Their faces were frozen in silent shock, and dark blood stained their beautiful robes.
'No... no! Just a moment ago... they were alive! We were moving!' She stared at their bodies, her mind unable to understand. The peaceful boat ride was now a scene of sudden, violent death. The dream was gone. This was real. The pain in her arm felt real, hot and terrible.
Then she heard a sound. A loud, sharp scream came from the mist behind them. "There she is!" a voice shouted. She turned her head, following the sound. From the swirling mist, a new wave of horror appeared. She saw many black figures, archers, on the shore. They were aiming their bows right at her.
SWOOSH!
A ball of bright, fiery light flew through the air, aimed directly for the boat. 'I can't die again!' a desperate thought screamed in her mind. 'I can't! This is my only life!'
A look of pure terror appeared on her face. With her good hand, she clutched her wounded arm. The heat from the fireball was getting closer, and the sound of many arrows flying through the air was like a terrible swarm of bees.
She had to move. She had to run. But there was nowhere to run. With a cry of pain and panic, she jumped. The cold, dark water of the river hit her, pulling her down. She held her breath, sinking below the surface, the sounds of the battle and the fireball hitting the boat fading into a hollow, watery silence.
_OUTSKIRTS OF CICIA. FOREST. NIGHT._ OF CICIA. FOREST. NIGHT._
The forest was a dark and quiet place, but the sky above was a show of bright lights. The moon, a perfect silver circle, hung high in the sky, and around it, countless stars glittered like tiny diamonds. They shone so brightly that they lit up the forest just enough to show the shapes of the tall, silent trees.
In the middle of this peaceful darkness, a small campfire blazed, crackling and hissing softly. Around it, a group of men sat, some on logs, some on the ground. They had set up many small tents, a temporary camp in the heart of the enemy's land. They were talking and drinking from wooden cups, their faces lit by the warm, orange light of the fire.
"For once and for all!" one man shouted, lifting his wooden cup high. "Tonight, Cicia falls! And we will finally conquer them!"
Loud cheers and shouts of agreement filled the air. Another man, with a face full of anger, slammed his cup down.
"How dare they abduct Princess Sara?!" he growled, his voice low and full of fire. "She is the light of our people! They will pay for this!"
A third man, who was dressed in a refined, traditional-style outfit, laughed and put a hand on the angry man's shoulder. He wore a dark brown, long-sleeved tunic with elegant golden embroidery of bamboo leaves on the shoulders and cuffs. Around his waist was a wide, light beige sash. His clothes were polished and graceful.
"Calm down, Haruto," he said in a teasing voice. "Princess Sara is King Kudo's wife, not yours. You act as if she's yours only."
The angry man, Haruto, blushed and looked away, and everyone around the fire burst into a fit of laughter.
In the middle of the men, on a large log, another person sat. He was a handsome young man with an air of great power. Long, straight black hair fell past his shoulders, shining in the firelight. His eyes were closed, and he sat perfectly straight, not moving, his hands resting on his knees. He was dressed in a rich red robe with golden armor-like accents on his shoulders and arms, showing that he was a prince and a commander of the Abyssal Kingdom. He was surrounded by a calm magical energy that seemed to separate him from the noise and laughter. He was not talking or drinking. He was just waiting.
The campfire crackled, and the men of the Abyssal Kingdom were laughing and talking, but in the middle of them, the prince sat still and silent. Suddenly, without a sound, he stood up.
The change was immediate and absolute. As if they were all connected by a single thread, every man around the fire stopped talking and laughing. They all stood up, their faces becoming serious and their hands moving towards their swords. The prince's presence was like a powerful, silent wave that turned their relaxed camp into a place of strict order. The men looked at each other, whispering in low voices.
"What is he going to do?" one man whispered.
"I don't know," another replied, "but he doesn't look happy."
The prince—Kururugi Suzaku—waved a hand at them, a calm, easy motion that told them to sit back down. But they didn't. They remained standing, straight and serious, because a prince stood before them, and they would not sit while he was on his feet.
A tall, strong man stepped forward. He was Suzaku's secretary commander general, his face showing a mix of worry and respect. "My Prince," he said, his voice low and formal. "Are you going somewhere? I will follow your orders, and I will be ready to protect you."
The prince looked at him. "I am going for a walk," he said, his voice quiet. "I wish to be alone. I will be fine."
The secretary general's serious face did not change. "But Prince, we are in the heart of Cicia's territory. It is dangerous for you to be alone."
The prince's expression became firm, and his eyes, with their strange golden light, looked straight at the man. "That is an order. I will not be followed." His voice was not loud, but it was filled with the clear authority of a high commander.
The secretary general bowed his head. "Yes, my Prince." As the prince turned and walked into the darkness of the forest, the men sat back down, their mood no longer relaxed. They began to whisper again, their eyes following his fading figure.
"What could he be thinking?" one man said to another. "He seems... different tonight," a third one added.
The prince walked away from his men and into the darkness of the forest, his body a powerful commander's but his mind a place of quiet panic. He ran a hand through the long, straight black hair that was not his, the unfamiliar weight of it feeling heavy. He wore a rich red robe with golden armor that was strange and wrong.
He sighed, a deep, tired sound. He put a hand to his forehead, his expression not just confused, but determined. He felt a deep, leader-like resolve, an old feeling he couldn't quite place. He tried to remember his past, the faces of his friends. He saw them, laughing, together.
'It has to be a dream,' he whispered to himself. 'I'm Kento Kamitani. I'm with them.' He slapped his own cheek, a hard, sharp smack. The pain was real, and it tore at his memory. It wasn't a dream. It was all a cold, sharp reality. And that reality was filled with pain.
He walked deeper, until he reached a lake. The still water reflected the moonlight like a silver mirror. He looked into it and saw the face of a stranger: a handsome young man with long black hair and golden eyes. A face he had seen for days, but a face he did not know. He looked at the strong jaw, the serious look in the eyes. This was not the boy who had ached to save his friends. This was Kururugi Suzaku.
'Who are you?' he thought, a wave of sadness and loss hitting him hard. He closed his eyes, and the memories came back, not as a blur, but as clear and painful pictures.
'The plane... the flames... Tamiko's wide eyes behind the glass.' The image flashed in his mind, sharp and terrible. He remembered the pain of that loss, the guilt that followed him. 'And after that... Shiyi stopped talking. Kashima left. The group broke apart.' He remembered the feeling of being unable to stop it, of watching his world fall apart.
Then, Shido's sad, final smile, his voice echoing in the emptiness. 'My first friend... my brother.' He saw Shido fading, simply... gone. The world just took him, and Kento couldn't do anything to stop it.
Then, the last memories. He saw Hori, her hands shaking as she touched the crystal mark on her wrist. He heard her sobs in the darkness. 'I don't want to die,' she had said. The memory was so clear, it felt like it was happening right now. He remembered the bathroom, the bathtub, her pale skin. He remembered holding her hand, his own tears falling. 'Don't leave me,' he had begged her. 'I'm not ready to be alone.' He had begged her to live. He had tried so hard to save her.
He opened his eyes, and a single tear slid down his cheek. He looked at the reflection of Kururugi Suzaku, and he felt a new wave of anger. All that pain. All that loss. For what?
Then, like a bolt of lightning, the last piece of the puzzle hit him. The priest. The chilling words in the shrine.
'YOU ARE CHOSEN ONE.'
A slow smile, full of disbelief and pure triumph, spread across his face. He began to laugh, a low, wild sound that echoed through the silent trees. "Yeah!" he shouted. "Yes!" He laughed and laughed, a loud, crazy sound of a man who had been through hell and finally found a reason for it all.
"We're not dead! We're not dead!" he shouted, his voice filled with a powerful new joy. He looked at the reflection again, and this time he didn't see a stranger. He saw a weapon. A tool. A chance to do it all again, and this time, do it right.
His laughter faded, and a determined look replaced it. The pain, the death, the curse—it all had a purpose. And he, Kento Kamitani, inside the body of Kururugi Suzaku, was here to fulfill that purpose. He was the chosen one.
His first mission was to find them. He had to. He would not fail them again.
He turned and ran back into the deep forest, his movements quick and full of a new, burning energy.
"Hori!" he shouted, his voice full of hope and desperate joy. "Shido! Hori! Where are you?!" He was no longer a lost boy. He was a leader on a mission. He would find them. He would save them. This time, he was ready.
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Hey, lovely readers! 😄 Buckle up — this chapter is a wild ride. Hori wakes up in a totally different body, Kento's juggling memories like hot potatoes, and chaos is basically doing a victory dance around them. 🔥
I'd love to know — if you were in their shoes, could you handle waking up somewhere that's not even your own body? Or would you just scream for ten hours straight? 🙃 Drop your thoughts, guesses, or even panic emojis — I want to see them all!
Next chapter… well, let's just say the adventure gets even crazier. Keep your eyes peeled! 👀
— With love and chaos,
Sakura Shinomiya
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