"The body enters a deep dream-state. The heart beats slower... slower... until... it stops. A death that feels like falling asleep."
Vespera sighed quietly.
"A peaceful end, they call it. But still an end."
Aeron’s breathing deepened, a faint tremor passing through his fingers.
"And E-Emilia?" he said, voice tight. "She’s in that stage?"
Vespera smiled sadly, genuinely this time.
"She is close, darling. Very close."
Her words drifted through the room like cold mist, settling over Aeron’s skin in a way that made him feel both numb and burning.
He swallowed.
Once.
Hard.
"...How close?" he asked, each word pushed out with effort.
Vespera didn’t answer. Not immediately.
Her eyes lowered, lashes casting thin shadows across her ethereal cheeks. For once, the playful, teasing spirit inside her vanished completely — replaced by something heavy... regretful.
Aeron’s voice cracked.
"...Vespera."
Still nothing.
Her silence was the kind that hurt more than any spoken truth.
"...Please," Aeron added.
"Well, I’m not exactly sure," she said at last, her tone stripped of every softness, every charm. "The progression of E.S.S... isn’t predictable."
Aeron’s chest tightened painfully.
Vespera’s gaze lifted to meet his — and even her phantom eyes carried weight.
"It could be a year," she murmured. "Or months."
"...or even days."
The words landed like stones.
Aeron felt the air leave his lungs.
Days.
Days!
His fingers dug into his knees so hard his knuckles whitened, the dull sting grounding him in a world that suddenly felt unreal.
Vespera drifted closer, but not in her usual, seductive glide. This time she moved like someone approaching a wounded creature — carefully, gently.
"Listen to me, Aeron."
"You must always hope for the best..." she reached out, her hand hovering near his cheek, not daring to touch, "...but also expect the worst."
Aeron closed his eyes, jaw clenching, breath shuddering once before he forced it steady. A storm raged behind his eyelids — fear, despair, determination, all warping together until they became something sharp.
When he opened his eyes again, something inside them had lit.
Faint, but unmistakable.
It was resolve.
"...What do I need to do?" he asked.
He didn’t know how and why, but he was sure that Vespera already had the solution to this problem. If not, why say all this?
"Hehe." Vespera’s lips curved into a charming smile. It was as if she had been waiting for that exact question.
She lifted one hand, and the phantom chair dissolved into mist. Her feet touched the floor for the first time, soundlessly, as if to show she was done playing, done teasing.
"Before anything else, you must understand something clearly. You only have two options, darling. Only two."
She lifted one finger.
"The first... is to find the legendary Dreamwalker — the Sage of Dreams herself."
She paused deliberately, letting the title echo in the air.
Aeron’s breath caught.
"The Dreamwalker..." he whispered.
Memories, half-remembered stories, impossible legends flickered through his mind.
"I’ve heard of her," he continued slowly. "A girl who fell into a coma at the age of six... and awakened after a decade. Her resonance gift allowed her to manipulate dreams... traverse sealed minds... even restore shattered consciousness."
His voice grew faint.
"And some say she reached the highest stage of power. Transcendence."
Vespera said nothing, watching him with unreadable eyes.
"But that was hundreds of ages ago," Aeron finished, uncertainty knotting his chest. "No one even knows if she was real... let alone alive."
He then looked at Vespera, jaw tightening.
"If she exists — if she truly did — where am I supposed to find her?"
Vespera’s lips curled up again, a playful spark lighting her eyes.
"Do you want to know the truth, darling~? "
Aeron’s brow twitched.
"...Don’t play games with me," he said, voice flat, brittle at the edges. "If she’s not alive, then tell me the second option."
Vespera let out a soft, amused breath, shaking her head as if he were a stubborn child missing something obvious.
"Of course she’s alive," she said lightly. "In fact, she’s the one who spread that tale herself."
Aeron froze.
"...She— what?"
Vespera shrugged elegantly. "When you’ve lived as long as she has, hiding becomes a matter of creativity. Myths are convenient disguises." Her smile faded just enough to turn matter-of-fact. "But unfortunately... almost no one knows where she is now."
Aeron’s jaw clenched.
He exhaled slowly — the breath of someone out of patience and out of ground to stand on.
"...Fine," he said defeatedly. "What’s the second option, then?"
Vespera clasped her hands behind her back, leaning in with a mischievous tilt of her head.
"Well, in fact," she said, "the second option is also related to finding her."
Aeron blinked. "...What?"
"Yes," she nodded cheerfully. "Didn’t I say almost no one knows her whereabouts? Almost being the important word, darling~."
Aeron stared, unamused.
Then, slowly, something clicked.
"...You mean," he said cautiously, "there’s someone who does know?"
Vespera’s grin widened.
She nodded. "And I know that person. Actually..." she tapped his forehead with a phantom finger, "... you know him very well too."
Aeron frowned, confusion deepening.
Someone he knew?
Someone amazing enough to know the location of a transcendent being?
His mind raced once more — through stories, through seniors, through famous figures he’d heard about.
"...Don’t tell me it’s someone absurd like the Azure Sky Sword Saint Jian," he muttered irritably. "Or some hidden grandmaster I met without knowing."
When he looked back at Vespera—
She was staring at him with the gentlest look of pity.
As if she were watching a puppy run straight into a wall.
Aeron froze.
"..."
Heat crept up his neck.
"...I’m wrong," he muttered, defeated. "Just tell me."
Vespera giggled — an airy, delighted sound that sparkled like chiming glass.
"The person who knows where the Sage of Dreams is..."
She paused dramatically, lifting her hand as though presenting the heavens.
"None other than..."
She leaned in close, her whisper brushing his ear.
"...your friend. Amaniel."
The room went dead silent.
Not a breath.
Not a twitch.
Even the faint hum of the aura in the walls seemed to fade.
Aeron stared at her — coldly, sharply, dangerously.
"...I said don’t play games with me," he whispered. "Amaniel is—"
"—dead?" Vespera finished with a mischievous lilt, a wicked spark dancing in her eyes. "Are you absolutely sure about that, darling?"
Aeron’s jaw tightened so hard a sharp ache shot down his neck.
His teeth ground together, every muscle in his face trembling with barely restrained fury.
"I saw him die," he hissed, voice cracking under the weight of memory. "With my own two eyes."
His hands curled into fists.
"He... I..." His throat closed, choking the words. "I couldn’t do anything."
The scene surged back with brutal clarity — the collapsing space, the deafening roar, the blinding rupture of dimensional force swallowing Amaniel whole.
His outstretched hand failing to reach.
His scream drowned out by the implosion.
The way the world had twisted, warped, exploded, then sealed shut around nothing but emptiness.
Aeron’s entire body felt cold, hollow.
Powerless.
Just like that moment.
Meanwhile, Vespera continued to watch him silently.
A few moments later, she stepped forward, close enough that her glow brushed the edge of his vision. Her palm rested gently atop his head, with the strange tenderness of a mother soothing a crying child.
"Aeron..." she murmured, her voice soft, almost human. "What if..."
Her fingers brushed through his hair, leaving trails of ghostlight in their wake.
"...what if I told you he’s alive?"
The world seemed to pause.
Vespera leaned down slightly, her gaze locking with his, filled with aching seriousness.
"Will you... believe me?"