A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes (Or So They Tell Me)

The what of… what?

Heroine. The word sticks in my brain. “I haven’t done anything, though,” I blurt, somewhat cynically. Now wasn’t the time to get into my whole life’s story to this dream-stranger, who’s looking at me morosely, like she’s a lost puppy that I’ve kicked.

“Do you not remember? Have you lost your memories, then?”

“If I’ve lost them, don’t you think I wouldn’t know the answer?”

Ruelle blushes. “I- I suppose you’re right.”

I feel a bit guilty for upsetting her, so I try to give her my best sympathetic smile. “I think there’s been some kind of mistake,” I say. “I’m not Eluin, or whoever, and I’m certainly no heroine. I don’t even know what Tor Reuna is. My name is Akagi Haruka.”

“Haruka…” she repeats, and I almost blush in turn at the familiarity. Nobody except my parents has any cause to call me that. Hearing this elf say my given name has me feeling lopsided.

“No, that can’t be right.” Ruelle’s face is one of certainty now. “You’ve been asleep so long that you must be confused.”

“Asleep, right. For how long, exactly?”

“Five hundred years.”

I can hear the record scratch somewhere deep in my brain as my body winces in turn. Five hundred years? I have no idea what media I’ve been consuming that’s given my imagination such a wild idea to dream about, but I’m determined to re-evaluate my television watch time when I wake up.

“Even after one year, someone’s brain would have atrophied,” I say as some means to dispel the lunacy. When Ruelle’s face crumples, I sigh. I figure she has no intentions of trying to murder me, though I doubt killing me would do anything in a dream besides waking me up, so I reach a hand back toward her. “Well, whatever. Come on, help me up.”

She does, pulling me from the casket and supporting my arm as I wobble onto the floor. When my boots hit the smooth stone, making an unusually soft thwump rather than the expected clack of my heels, I chance a look down at my clothes.

Instead of my navy blazer and skirt, I’m wearing thick cloth pants, armored with dense patches of shining leather on my thighs and calves. Under a heavy leather breastplate, gilt with some kind of intricate golden pattern, a cream-colored tunic with long sleeves pokes out, the ends of which are embroidered with fine vermilion thread.

The armor is heavy, way heavier than you’d think leather would be, and I feel like a newborn calf trying to move around in it. Ruelle watches me pander about, bending this way and that, stretching my arms to the sky and trying to itch unitchable spots. She breaks her silence after a few awkward minutes.

“You- you must be famished,” she says, gesturing to the tall set of double-oaken doors ahead of us. “We can find you something at the local tavern, if you’d like. I think it will, erm, help to get you some sustenance.”

“We’ve got a lot more to cover here, first!” I say. But my growling stomach betrays me at the mention of food. I scowl, and Ruelle visibly flinches. So, I relent. “Fine, we can go. But there are a lot of questions I need answered.”

Ruelle brightens and pulls open the door for me. I’m momentarily struck still by the blinding light that washes over us. When my daze breaks, a world from a painting opens up to me. A sun is high in a nearly cloudless sky, casting glimmering rays to the world below. When we step out of the shadow of the stone tomb, we’re in a courtyard, where flowers bloom and lush grass sways in a cartoonishly lovely breeze. The freshness of the air makes me take a deep breath. It’s almost sweet on the tongue.

I hate to say anything positive about this place or experience, fearful to give it any root in my mind, but it’s beautiful. We’re on the top of a hill, backed by a sloping mountain range. In front of us, rolling green hills can be seen all the way to the edge of the horizon. And just a few kilometers away is a speckling of multicolored roofs, nestled in a valley adjacent to a winding river.

“The village is just there,” Ruelle confirms my thought, pointing to them. “The walk’s shorter than it looks, I promise.”

We begin the trek as I take in the sights. “Is this Tor Reuna?” I ask.

“No – well, yes. That’s the name of our entire queendom. But this village is called Highcreek.”

“Hm. It’s quite small. If Eluin is the savior of the whole world, as you claim, why wouldn’t her special tomb be built where people actually live? You know, like with kings and armored knights on horses or some such.”

Ruelle flushes. The shock of my apparently flabbergasting mental state makes her reply come stuttered and disjointed. “Well, that’s- it was much contested, but- Highcreek is where you were born, my lady.”

“I suppose that makes sense. And why were you visiting me – er, Eluin? What did you want from her, exactly?”

Ruelle’s gait slows. She peers at me, trying to discern something, but any questioning is overcome by the plain fear on her face. Her voice is slow and quiet when she speaks: “Lugaz has returned.”

We trod along as I wait for her to elaborate, but her admission hangs in the air. She keeps stealing glances at me, waiting for some kind of reaction. I start to get annoyed.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Yes!” she blurts, but then quickly recovers herself and blushes. “Excuse me. I meant to say, Lady Eluin, is that – er, do you really not know?”

“Absolutely no clue. And, again, I’m not Eluin. My name is Haruka.”

Ruelle looks away and starts muttering to herself. “Is this my fault? Did I pray wrong? Oh, what am I going to do? How can I bring Eluin back in this state? Gerrin’s going to have my head… he told me not to go, not to cause mischief. I must have broken something in her brain.”

“Hey, I can hear you! And my brain is not broken.”

Ruelle jumps, as if she’s genuinely shocked. She’s not more than a meter ahead of me, so I have no idea how she thinks she’s being secretive. “I-I’m sorry!”

“I didn’t ask for this either,” I continue. “But once I wake up from this dream, all of our problems will be solved. So just bear with me for a little while longer, mkay?”

“Dream?” Ruelle repeats. “You… you’re dreaming?”

“Of course I am. None of this could possibly be real.”

“I’m real!” She’s so emphatic about it that I almost jump, too.

“Uh, yeah, in the context of my psyche, maybe. I mean, you say this is a different world, but you’re literally speaking Japanese!”

She’s ready to argue some more, but then her face goes blank. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, the way her face perfectly displays her emotions. She goes perfectly still and silent, turning her back to me.

One of her ears twitches.

“Um, Ruelle?”

When she faces me again, her mien is one of pure dread.

“Lady Eluin!” she shouts, “brace yourself!”

I can’t even manage a coherent thought about such a statement before two giant monsters crest the hill in front of us.