I dug into the pasta, and the moment the creamy carbonara touched my tongue, I nearly groaned with pleasure.
"Gods this is delicious," I muttered between mouthfuls, my fork practically dancing as I wound more of the silky strands around it. The rich egg and cheese sauce was unlike anything I'd ever tasted – certainly nothing like the simple fish stews and bread that had sustained me in Tyson Village.
I could sense a gaze boring into me, and so I raised my head to meet it. Of course it was Knossos, a small smile tugging at the corners of his weathered lips as he watched me devour the meal with what was probably undignified enthusiasm. He ate his own plate in measured mouthfuls, almost regally so... it was weird.
"So Sinbad," he began, setting down his own fork with considerably more grace than I'd been managing, "we need to talk about other things, mainly your training for the next few months."
"Training?" I mumbled after swallowing another magnificent mouthful, though I paused in my eating.
"Yes, training," Knossos confirmed, his tone growing more serious. "Remember how I told you about the winter solstice?"
I nodded, the memory of our earlier conversation still fresh. The Citadel. The Dream Realm. Not that I had a lot of clue on what those were, but still.
"Well, it's seven months from today, so we'll have seven months to prepare you as best we can." His fingers drummed against the polished wood of the table, a nervous habit most likely, though when had he gained it of that I had no clue.
"What do I need to do?" I asked, though I continued eating, what it was really good, bite me.
"First of all," he began, ticking off points on his fingers, "I'll hire a tutor to teach you to speak, read, and write English properly. I know the Spell translates everything for you – you're understanding me now, aren't you, even though I'm not speaking whatever language you knew in your nightmare – but it's better if you know the language yourself. The translation isn't perfect, and there are nuances, cultural references, idioms that can be lost."
That explained the strange sensation I'd been having, the feeling that words were being filtered through something before reaching my understanding. It was disconcerting to realize I'd been having entire conversations in a language I didn't actually know.
"I'll also bring as many soul shards as possible to saturate your core," he continued.
Soul shards. I remembered the crystalline fragments Drakon and I had extracted from the Lightning King. Breaking them was the fastest way to build your own but with humanity having occupied most of the world, there was only one other place people could get soul shards from other humans. That was the reason I had never heard the voice of the Spell until the tower, I had never killed anything before that.
"You'll also be getting a survival instructor," Knossos went on, his expression growing grimmer. "The Dream Realm isn't like your nightmare, Sinbad. In nightmares, are always fair, the Dream Realm on the other hand is just like any other world, your luck is the deciding factor, you may get dropped near a citadel or in the middle of the sea or in a Death Zone, so you have to prepared for any and all scenarios."
"And one last thing," Knossos said, meeting my eyes directly. "I'll be your fighting instructor. So from now on, call me Master. I know 'Grandpa' is a bit much, given everything, so we'll begin there."
"Understood, Master," I replied, testing the word on my tongue. It felt strange but not wrong – certainly better than trying to force familial affection I didn't feel.
He smiled at that, a genuine expression that transformed his entire face.
"Oh, and actually, scratch what I said previously. We'll have six months to prepare you, not seven. The last month of your training, you'll be sent to the Academy." His tone shifted, becoming more urgent. "Try and make friends there, Sinbad. This is important – probably the most important thing I'll tell you. Remember this, no one survives in the Dream Realm alone. No one."
He put extra emphasis on it, making me wonder what kind of place this Dream Realm exactly was.
As if summoned by the weight of our conversation, Rashid appeared at that moment, gliding through the doors with practiced silence. He carried two plates, and the rich aroma that preceded him made my mouth water despite the heaviness in my chest.
"For the second course, steak with mashed potatoes," he announced with a small bow, setting the plates before us with elegant precision.
Looking at my plate, my eyes widened in genuine amazement. The steak was enormous, perfectly cooked with a crust that promised flavor beyond anything I'd experienced. Beside it, a mountain of creamy mashed potatoes that looked like they'd been touched by divine hands.
So much... meat! I could get used to this!
The plate was set in front of me and I began to dig into it with perhaps unseemly enthusiasm, but I found I didn't care. My body was crying out for nutrition, for the fuel it needed to rebuild itself after months of surviving on whatever those IV contraptions had provided.
I could feel Knossos watching me again, but this time there was approval in his gaze rather than mere amusement.
"We'll also get an instructor to teach you history and etiquette," he said, cutting his own steak with measured precision. "You'll need to understand both worlds, its power structures, its dangers. Knowledge is just as important as strength, sometimes more so."
"Sure, sure," I muttered, slicing another portion of the perfectly tender steak and savoring the explosion of flavor as I chewed. The meat was rich and complex, seasoned with herbs I couldn't identify but which made my taste buds sing.
"The Academy will be probably the time you'll get the most rest," Knossos continued, seemingly content to let me eat while he spoke. "So try to make some friends, all of them will be older than you since the Spell normally only takes people from the ages of 16-18 at least nowadays."
I looked up at him questioningly, a forkful of mashed potatoes halfway to my mouth.
"You've already survived the impossible," he said simply. "And I'll make sure you continue to."
Like that, the dinner continued, each course more elaborate than the last. We finished with something called Tiramisu – a dessert so rich and perfect it nearly made me weep – and said our goodnights. Rashid led me back to my room, and I found myself wondering again about the house's staff. The place was immaculate, clearly maintained by many hands, yet I'd seen no one but Rashid. Were there others working while we slept? Or was there some other explanation?
With that question drifting through my mind, I fell asleep on the most comfortable bed I'd ever known, preparing myself for whatever tomorrow would bring.
"Wake up!"
The voice crashed through my dreamless nights like thunder, followed immediately by the slam of doors being thrown open. Standing at the entrance, silhouetted against the hallway light like some vengeful deity, was Knossos – or Master, as I needed to remember to call him now.
"Master, what are you doing?" I groaned, my voice thick with sleep. The morning light streaming through the windows was pale and cold, suggesting an hour that no civilized person should be conscious for.
"It's 5 AM already! We need to get started building those muscles. Rashid will bring breakfast to the training grounds, so let's go!"
Before I could protest, I found myself being dragged from the warmth of my bed by my ankle, my body protesting the sudden transition from sleep to activity. The floor was cold against my bare feet, and I shivered as I followed Master through corridors I was still learning to navigate.
The training grounds, when we reached them, were more impressive than I'd expected. A vast courtyard stretched before us, bordered by high walls and filled with various pieces of equipment I didn't recognize. The morning air was crisp and clean, carrying scents of dew and growing things that reminded me painfully of early mornings in Tyson Village.
"Come on, start running," Master commanded, gesturing toward a track that circled the entire courtyard.
"How long?" I asked, already dreading the answer.
"Until I say so," he replied with a grin that was equal parts encouraging and terrifying. "Now get to it! The thing that matters most in the Dream Realm isn't strength or speed – it's endurance. The longer you're able to run from dangers, the better your chances of survival."
I nodded and began to run, my legs protesting almost immediately. This body was weak, even if it was a sleeper, weaker than I'd ever been, and every step reminded me of just how much work lay ahead. But I ran anyway, because the alternative was considerably worse than a little discomfort.
I ran until I felt like I was about to be sick, my stomach churning with each jarring step. I ran until sweat drenched my clothes and stung my eyes. I ran until my legs felt like they might buckle beneath me, threatening to dump me unceremoniously onto the grass. I ran and ran and ran, driven by Master's occasional shouts of encouragement and my own stubborn refusal to give up.
Finally, inevitably, I collapsed onto the grass beside the track, my chest heaving as I gasped for air. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears, drowning out everything else.
A shadow fell across me, and I didn't need to look to know it was Master's.
"Good," he said, and there was genuine approval in his voice. "It looks like being raised in a nightmare has its benefits. Your will is stronger than most."
I couldn't reply, too focused on the seemingly impossible task of getting enough oxygen into my lungs. My whole body felt like it was on fire, every muscle screaming in protest.
"Don't breathe through your mouth," Master instructed, his tone shifting to that of a patient teacher. "Inhale through your nose and exhale through your mouth. I know you want to take in as much air as you can, but that's not helping you recover."
I did as he said, forcing myself to slow my breathing despite every instinct screaming at me to gulp air. Gradually, miraculously, it did help. My heart rate began to slow, and the burning in my chest eased to a more manageable ache.
"You did well," Master said, and there was something like pride in his voice. "So I'll reward you."
"Reward?" I asked, managing to sit up despite my exhaustion. My monetary instincts, apparently, survived even this ordeal. "Is it money?"
He shook his head, chuckling. "Even better. I'm going to give you a memory."
My heart skipped a beat. You could give memories? The implications were staggering – what if I was given a memory at the level of a master or a saint or maybe even a supreme, could I use their power.
A smile spread across my face.
"Thank you, Master!" I said, meaning it completely.
He laughed at my enthusiasm, then reached toward my head with one weathered hand. "Here you go."
The moment his fingers touched my hand, I felt it – something foreign entering my soul sea. A string of runes began to appear in my vision.
[You have been given a memory-]
But the runes stopped there, frozen mid-sentence. Then, with a sound like breaking glass that seemed to echo through my very bones, they shattered and were replaced by something else entirely.
[Your memory has been destroyed. You are a King's Candidate]
WHAT!!!
A/N: Hope you enjoyed the chapter (also if I could get some reviews that would be insanely helpful, they can even be bad ones as long as they are constructive lol). Either way author out.