A soft breeze blew through Alaric's clothes, rousing his attention to an unfamiliar landscape. Dirt roads, makeshift houses built of wood and cobblestone, a construction site filled with stones, barrels of water and materials strewn about.

Alaric's eyes snapped into focus as he looked around, confused beyond comprehension, only for him to spot a pagoda floating high in the air, chains keeping it from flying off in the storm caught above in an endless twister.

'The Demiplane?' he struggled to keep track.

Sadly, the world wasn't generous enough to let him catch up, "Soren… Soren… Soren…" he turned, looking around, "You okay, Soren?"

Alaric turned to see a man sitting next to him, shirtless, his defined muscles slick with sweat. His loose white and golden hair waved in the wind, and upon his countenance, he sported the most brilliant smile Alaric had ever seen. His eyes were familiar, as well as his aura, but a lot younger. He couldn't put his finger on what made the man so familiar.

The man handed him a waterskin from which Alaric drank greedily, struggling to quench the thirst he hadn't noticed ravaging his body. When he'd had his fill, he heard himself answer, "I'm fine, Ungv'ak. You?"

His voice surprised him. While it wasn't so different from his, it lacked the hoarse shiver of inexperience he often caught in it. This one was rich and confident. It was free of worry.

"I'm good. Still debating what made me accept your offer to protect the Stone Gate, but fine," Ungv'ak answered with a chuckle.

"That's not what I meant, you airhead," Soren answered, getting in close to Ungv'ak so he could whisper, "I meant with Ayr'ak. Have you… y'know, asked her yet?"

Ungv'ak turned a slight shade of red and pulled himself away from Soren, "I was going to ask her yesterday, but then she started talking about this new spinning technique that allows her to take apart any material. Then she said she was still struggling with reconstructing the things she breaks apart with her weaves and… then, I got lost in her work."

Soren cracked up in laughter, "You're such a pushover, Ungv'ak."

"Look who's talking," the demihuman squealed, "You're here hiding from that Pillar you like so much."

Alaric nearly screamed when he felt his heart quicken and a rush of heat envelope his cheeks. It was like a sweating switch had been flipped. His mind turned to mush, and for a second, he lost the ability to articulate himself. Why he felt Soren's reactions so vividly evaded him. He was aware of this emotion, but never with this much intensity.

"See?" Ungv'ak added with a loud, hollering laugh, "How is it a coward like you is hounding me on the same thing he can't do?"

Soren narrowed his eyes at the demihuman, "Fine. I'll leave you be… but don't take too long or someone else might snatch her up. I've seen the way she looks at you."

"Really?" Ungv'ak's eyes went wide. His bravado shuddered, and he came up to Soren with stars in his eyes, "You think she'll say yes."

"Let's get back to work," Soren chuckled, "This place won't build itself."

Everything went black, and Alaric's eyes flicked open. His eyes landed on the plain white ceiling above him. It was morning, and he was in the Pantheon, but the events of his dream didn't vanish in the slightest.

'A memory?' he wondered. He still remembered Delphi's words, but nothing had prepared him for a memory this soon. Ungv'ak had looked so young that he was unrecognisable. So young, vibrant, and if only a little childish. The two of them had been talking about the girl he later ended up with: Ayr'ak.

Considering it was a memory from a time when Soren was alive, this was over a thousand years ago. Upon trying to sit up, pain radiated through Alaric's body like he'd just been placed in a hot crucible.

The boy winced and got back into bed. 'By the time I get to Steel Rank, I'll have experienced every kind of pain possible to the human body.'

[ Quite ambitious of you! ] His guardian chuckled.

Alaric laughed audibly, only to start coughing violently. Even the subtlest of contractions in his muscles sent him into a world of pain. It was at least five minutes after this coughing fit that the pain had reduced to a dull ache.

He had nowhere to go, so he took a deep breath and chose to relish in the comfort of a soft bed a little more, regardless of every aching inch of his body. Before he even realised it, he'd fallen into another slumber.

A soft, gentle music wafted into his ears this time. Gentle amber lights cast a comforting glow in a vast room filled with long tables, food, and people talking amongst themselves.

Alaric looked around again. This time, his confusion was less, but it was there. He knew he was in a dream of the past, but not where he was exactly. It was all too disorienting for him to quickly regain his bearings, so his mind went to work discerning things.

The ground was covered in rough stone, and all about him, he saw people. 'Guests,' he thought. A few had golden and white hair like Ungv'ak, while several others bore different, yet unique features.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Women and men with scales on their cheeks, others with cat-like eyes and ears or sharp green eyes that sent shivers down the eyes of any who dared to stare too long.

He saw humans milling through them as well, partaking in the festivities, a stark image from what he perceived to be the norm. Some took the dance floor while others convened at the long tables to eat and have small talk.

Alaric's heart swelled up with emotion. He knew these people. Well… at least, some of them, and yet nothing came to mind. A big man at the edge of a dinner table was piling food onto his plate when he stopped to stare at him.

His eyes shone like freshly-polished emeralds before they lit up even brighter as he flashed a warm smile at him, before returning to the task of piling his plate up high. Alaric didn't miss the aether holding all the food from falling as he expertly built his tower of food as high as he could.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he surveyed the open air of the festival. There were more smiles of recognition and painful pangs of longing, but he managed. Just like the first memory, Alaric was sure the rest would return, painful as that thought sounded.

He took a deep breath and relished the calm atmosphere. He felt at home. He was content.

"Soren," a female voice called out to him. Alaric spied a beautiful woman, the owner of the voice, her white and golden hair waving behind her.

Unlike Soren, who was dressed in a flashy white tunic, this woman was dressed in a navy blue dress that flowed down to her knees, flaring out dramatically at her waist. Her short sleeves went around her arms rather than over her shoulders, leaving them bare. A pair of long white gloves clothed her hands, growing past her elbows to meet the stylish sleeves. She had stunning jewellery and a face that could make any man weak at the knees.

"Ayr'ak," Soren breathed. Among the people he'd met so far at this festival, Alaric recognised her the most. She was every bit as beautiful as the statue Alaric had seen in the courtyard of the Pantheon. If anything, she was more beautiful.

"A bit lonely for one destined to be Emperor, no?" the woman spoke. Before Soren could speak, however, she added, "Come dance with me."

Soren panicked, looking around the large hall frantically, "But…"

"Oh, don't worry about her. She might as well have given me her blessing by not dancing with you," Ayr'ak answered, turning the man's stomach even more. "Besides, you owe me for showing up so late. Is a little bit of spellwork so important that you had to come late?"

"That 'spellwork' made this dream a reality," Soren answered with a chuckle, "Settling in nicely, I hope."

"It will take some time," Ayr'ak answered with a sigh, "It's not every day a powerful mage offers to craft you a sanctuary and helps with the construction."

Soren nodded in understanding. He understood it was all too much to take at once, but Alaric knew not what they spoke about.

He looked around and noticed the Pantheon looming over them, its walls freshly sanded. The air smelt fresh and earthy, devoid of the intervention of man. The demiplane was still young. Very young.

"Take your time. One step at a time. This place shall be home in time, and in turn, you need only protect the Keystone," Soren declared.

"My people are honoured by your request to protect the sacred relic. We'll protect it with our lives," Ayr'ak answered, her voice taking on a serious tone for the first time since they'd started dancing.

Following the man's lead, the pair danced across the dance floor. Couples danced around them, and together, the room melted into a scene straight out of a tale of fiction, filled with joy and melody.

Towards the end of the song they were dancing to, Ayr'ak leaned into Soren's ear, "Thank you for coming to our wedding. I'm sure now that the Constellations will bless our union."

"I'm not the reason the Constellations do…"

A finger pressed over Soren's lips, "Nuh uh! I'm not having any of that crap, favourite of the Ascended Ones."

The music came to an end, and the two stopped moving, staring at each other. Ayr'ak's eyes bore a glimmer of seriousness in them, buried in the vast fondness she had for him, "That said, I do have one more question."

"What is it?" Soren got curious. Alaric got the feeling that this was the longest he'd ever spoken to the woman. She was oddly warm. If anything, she seemed to be struggling with showing her gratitude to him. There were odd signs that Alaric saw, but Soren didn't.

"What do you think of the name Ciril'ak for a girl?" she asked.

Soren furrowed his eyebrows. All that tension for help over naming her future daughter. A soft laugh escaped him, "I think that name sucks."

"Hey!" she slapped his shoulder, only intensifying Soren's laughter.

"I'm sorry," he laughed more, "You've never been good at picking names. Remember how you almost called yourself a Spinner of Threads instead of Spinmaster."

"I, for one, think that was a cool name," the woman responded with her nose raised to the air in defiance. Even then, there was mirth in her eyes. The next song began, and the pair started to move lazily, "Just curious though. If it were a boy and it was up to you to name him, what would you choose?"

Soren's laughter drained away, and he looked up in thought. It was a sudden question, but if the bride wanted this of him, then he had no right to deny.

"How about Rail'ak?"

There was a short moment of silence before the woman nodded. Soren kept staring at her expectantly until she asked, "What?"

"Aren't you going to ask why?"

She shook her head, an expression of pure content on her face, "No, I will name our first son Rail'ak in your honour."

Alaric's eyes flickered open once more. This time, he was sweating a little. How much time had passed? He did not know, but he somehow felt even more exhausted now.

His stomach rumbled, and he felt a burning pain coming from inside it. His body burned with a light fever, but not too much to deter him from the hole in his stomach. 'I need to eat something,' he thought to himself.

[ There is food at your bedside. ] His guardian, Alia, answered.

Alaric turned and saw a golden plate of smoking meat with a few vegetables right next to a golden cup of fragrant tea.

A dark knight emerged from the shadows and gently helped him sit up before bringing the food over to him. It smelled good and steamed as though it had just been brought in. Alaric knew this to be the work of the runes carved into the plates. Taste didn't matter with hunger like this, though.

If it wasn't for his crippled state, he might have crashed into the plate and decimated the food like some rabid beast. But he didn't do that. Alia diligently helped him eat his food. While he ate, he remembered his talk with the Constellation of Knowledge and Revelation.

'Dreams are memories... huh...' he thought to himself. It sounded like utter nonsense, and yet he couldn't deny it. Now that he thought about it, though, he'd dreamt before, hadn't he?

He could feel his brain heat up with a headache, so he filed the thoughts away with a groan. Twenty minutes later, his stomach had eased up.

He looked down at his clothes and grimaced. They were covered from top to bottom with sweat, and he felt sticky all over. His body might have hurt like hell, but nothing was going to keep him from taking a bath before returning to this bed.

"Alistair…"

"Yes, Master?" The white clone emerged from the shadows. The look on the clone's master was one of unshakeable resolve and determination.

With a face stern and voice intense, he commanded, "Get me into that bathtub."

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