The Little Dreaming Prince

I regain consciousness to the glaring, blinding white of a hospital ceiling.

The air smells sharply of sterile alcohol, but the phantom stench of toxic mana still burns my senses. Cold sweat clings me to the sheets. Wires snake across my bruised chest and arms, tethering me to a monitor that beeps an unsteady rhythm.

I’m alive...?

A gentle nurse is the first to arrive, her face lighting up with genuine surprise when she sees my open eyes. But the comfort is fleeting. Soon after, a doctor steps in. He doesn’t offer a warm smile, only a clinical gaze fixed on his clipboard.

“How much do you remember?” he asks.

“My head hurts,” I whisper. “Everything is a blur.”

He nods, scribbling quickly. “Amnesia from the shock. Quite expected.” He barely looks at me as he explains the “accident.” A mansion in the mountains collapsed, and I was pulled from the rubble.

An accident. Not the robed magus with the crucifix staff, who intruded with the intent to kill. Not the master magus of the house who kept us locked in the dark catacombs.

When the police investigators arrive later, they are relentless with their questions. They prod at my fractured memories, asking about gas leaks and structural failures. But my mind is entirely consumed by one agonizing question.

“What about the others?” I interrupt, straining against my injuries. “The ones left behind? My brothers and sisters!”

The two investigators exchange a heavy look. The senior officer sighs. “We’re still clearing the rubble, kid. But as far as we know... you were the only recovery at the scene.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. If I can’t stop the tears, I just want to sleep. If I have to dream, let it be that dream.

Eden.

My back will be resting on the grassy hill, the soft mound with the single giant tree casting a cool shadow over me. The wind playfully rustles the leaves, and the softly running stream around the base of the hill plays me a lullaby of the purest waters. The deep sky contains the perfect number of puffy clouds. The sun shines brilliantly, yet with a tepidness that gives energy to everything below it.

It is a paradise that forms through my vivid dreams. It is also the place I live almost every night that I rest. If I could imagine what heaven looks like, it would surely be similar to this. This is my repeating dream, a dream of the world’s most peaceful hill. A gorgeous expanse that radiates its own life.

Hoping, praying for this experience as my soul slips into slumber, the transition is instantaneous. I wake on the lush, sunlit hillside of the perfect garden.

After so much discomfort, I’m so happy I can dance!

But for the first time, I am not alone. The gentle nurse from my room is sitting in the grass, staring out at the horizon.

She’s always nice to me, so I pace over to her.

“Oh, it’s you.” She begins, “I have never had a lucid dream before. To think that daily occurrences actually appear. I suppose psychologists aren’t all fools.” Her sardonic smile clears into an empty expression of peace.

I don’t know how to respond.

She isn’t smiling anymore. That makes me sad. She’s always smiling when she sees me in my room. So why now? Maybe she wants to be left alone.

“Where are you going?” She asks as I begin my retreat.

“Sorry. I don’t want to make you sad.”

“What? I’ll be sadder if you left without saying anything. Come. Sit down, will you? I’m glad we can talk like this. Share this scenery with me if just for a while.”

I sit. The silence stretches between us until she finally breaks it.

“So, there’s more around this hill?”

“The tree. I like to rest on the branches.”

“Oh, that must be true.” She peeks over her shoulder at the top of the mound. “Even with those wires, you’d run up if you had the chance, huh?”

“You’re smiling again.”

“You’re the cause. Congratulations. I must apologize; I overlooked that you’re still my patient. It’s not right to burden you, even if this is a dream. No, because it is a dream, because of this peace, I may have let this one-time slip. I meant to visit you again today, but the truth is, I’m troubled. I visited my daughter’s room after yours. She’s cute, just like you.”

“Did she forget her memories, too?”

“Yes. Well, it’s less about memories and more about how to smile.”

“I can smile, though! I bet she’s more like you.”

“…Yes. She is like me. You’re very perceptive. But her worries aren’t her doing. Her ailment is persistent. If I could be selfish, we’d be sharing these views with her as well. So, do your best for me, would you? Show me a miracle. Show me an injured boy recovering quickly and healthily, so I can believe my daughter will do the same.”

I wish to make the nurse happier. For her kindness, I will recover fast, but I want to give more back to her.

This is a dream, after all. I want to give her everything. I want to take the gray from her eyes and replace it with the gold of this hill. So, I reach into that cold, dark well of mana I obtained in the catacombs and pull. My skin glows, my hair lengthens, and my face shifts into the soft, familiar curves of the girl from her bedside photos.

“Mommy?” I say, wishing to appear as her daughter.

“Aya-chan---...?” Her hand trembles, she reaches, but she stops an inch away. “You... you don’t know my daughter. She hasn’t looked at me like that in years.”

I was sure this would make her happy, but I am mistaken, greatly.

“I hate lies,” she admits, harshly. “Please... please don’t lie to me, child. I don’t think I can take it.”

The realization hit me like a physical blow. I have tried to give her a miracle, but I have only given her a fantasy. The illusion shatters. I shrink back into my small self, my heart crushed by a giant’s hand.

“All adults are weird after all,” I sob, the words tumbling out through my own tears. “The only people who ever understood me were my brothers and sisters. I just... I just want you to be happy.”

“There’s something called being real,” she says, with not so much grief as profound acceptance. “And facing reality head-on, even if it’s painful.”

“But this is a dream!” I cry out. “It’s a dream, so can’t we just have fun? We can play pretend, okay? Please... please smile one more time...”

“You can, little one. And you should.” She wipes my eyes. “But I refuse to lie to myself. My determination is the only thing I have left. It doesn’t let me play pretend anymore.”

“That’s so sad…”

“You might be too young to understand, but the truth is more important. Results are more important than playing pretend.” She stands up. “Thank you, child. All your talk of magic... it really did bring me a wonderful dream tonight. Even if it hurt a little, I thank you for reminding me what her smile looked like.”

I loved that dream.

So when I wake up, I can’t believe my eyes, I don’t want to. Magic circles and phrases, not unlike those of the catacombs, are etched onto every wall and surrounding, every person as well, including me. No--------------

There’s a greater emotion than wanting to recover; it’s the fact that if I return to that hellish landscape, any recovery is impossible.

I wake up violently.

Don’t remind me. Stop it! I don’t want to go back!

The jagged runes pulse with a sickening, toxic light. The sterile hospital room is gone, replaced by this living nightmare. I scream. I thrash against the wires until my throat gives out, throwing a tantrum to fight the hallucination until exhaustion drags me to a dreamless void.

The magical runes are gone by the time I wake up again. As if nothing ever happened. Five days pass.

The doctors converse outside my door. The deep lacerations on my chest and the fractures in my ribs are knitting together at an impossible, terrifying speed. They call it a miracle. I have made a full, rapid recovery. But the nurse doesn’t come to check my bandages anymore.

On the seventh day, a strict-looking man from the orphanage arrives to pick me up. And with no luggage to pack, I leave the hospital to become an orphan. I do so sadly, as I wish to see the gentle nurse who has been absent ever since our shared dream.

I leave, not knowing that I broke the laws of magic yet again. I had answered the nurse’s plea for a miracle, but my magic happens to be of the most horrid variety. I took the miracle entirely for myself. I am completely healed. And in exchange, her daughter never will be.