5 - Mad End's Wall

ARAH

Later that night, she woke up in a strange land. Her muscles ached, and it felt like her bones had been shattered and reassembled. Maybe this was what it felt like to be struck by a ship or to fall from the sky. But how was she alive? Her head throbbed, and the only thing she could remember was her name.

Panic rose in her chest as she looked down to inspect herself. Her skin, decorated with odd blue marks, was pale—almost translucent—blending with her silk dress. Her body felt light as if she could easily float and disappear into the wind if she wanted to.

Behind her, a towering wall of black rock loomed, stretching along the shadowy horizon. The only exit was a vibrant wall of pulsating lights ahead.

“Am I dreaming?” she muttered, feeling as though her mind had been caught between two worlds, two fabrics of time and space.

The wall before her buzzed with energy, making her skin prickle. She struggled to her feet—every movement was like wading through chest-high water. She teetered toward the wall, her hand hesitating inches away. What if it shocked her? But instincts screamed that staying meant guaranteed death.

“If this is a dream and I get hurt, I should wake up, right?”

The words didn’t inspire confidence.

There was only one way to find out. She willed herself to push forward, eyes tightly shut, feeling the vibrations wash over her. For a moment, it felt as though she was being pulled in different directions at the same time. The sensation was unsettling but not painful. And it didn’t take long before she found herself on the other side of the wall, where the air crackled with heat and flames licked at her senses.

The fire seemed alive, consuming every space and material in its path—including pieces of her spirit. Immediately, she collapsed to the ground like a melted candle, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

Was she dying?

Through tear-blurred vision, she saw a figure emerge—a man walking toward her, the fire parting to make way for him. His eyes and claws both sparkled gold under the firelight. His face and body were covered in dark and gilded scales, reminiscent of a serpent. But there was something more specific, a word hovering at the tip of her tongue.

Not long after, his beastly form slowly vanished, leaving behind a beautiful man with warm skin and hard flesh.

Her mind was a mist, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she already knew him. Not from this moment, but from the time that would come after.

“Help me,” she croaked, her voice barely audible above the crackling flames. She was too weak to even raise a hand. “I don’t remember…”

“Anything?” the stranger uttered in a deep, ominous voice that sent shivers down her spine.

“Only my name. Araheen,” she said, lips trembling. “W-what happened to me? What is this place?”

“You fell behind the Mad End’s Wall.”

Mad End’s Wall? Was he talking about the wall of lights?

The handsome stranger tilted his head to the side and folded his arms over his chest. His eyes, black slits against a golden backdrop, pierced into her as if trying to figure her out.

All good luck to him—she couldn’t even figure herself out.

He briefly glanced over his shoulder as if to talk to someone, though she saw nothing behind him. Then, crouching beside her, he said, “You don’t remember anything?”

Why did he have to ask twice? Was her response not clear enough?

Still, she shook her head weakly.

A shadow of a smile crossed the stranger’s lips, but not the reassuring kind. Before she could dwell on it further, he slid his powerful arms beneath her, lifting her effortlessly, as though she weighed nothing at all. His touch was firm and warm.

“W-who are you?” she asked, feeling small in his grasp.

He studied her with his enigmatic gaze before replying, “I’m Gildeon.” A pause. “Your husband.”

“Husband?” The word hung between them.

“You’re safe now,” he said softly, though his voice still screamed with power—and danger. “You’re safe with me.”

Darkness enveloped her, swallowing her whole until all that remained was emptiness. When consciousness returned, she found herself back in bed, in reality, staring up at the ceiling of her room. Her breaths were shallow and fast, and her whole body was shaking.

Was it all a dream? Why did it feel so real? Like an actual memory?

Arah curled into herself, confused. Maybe Gildeon was telling the truth about the accident, about their past. Her broken memories from the accident might have been twisted, her mind shaping them into an otherworldly dream.

But all she got from that strange dream were more questions than answers.

Who were they… really?