Kill the Light

16 - Reverie

As I stepped into the grand ballroom, the opulence surrounding me left me in awe. "Wow," I whispered to myself, though my words vanished into the bustling atmosphere.

A couple swirled past me, the rustle of their elegant attire mingling with the soft strains of the music. I longed to join them, to lose myself in the rhythm of the dance, but a strange sensation held me back. It was as if an invisible barrier separated me from the festivities, leaving me stranded on the outskirts of the celebration.

I approached a group of guests, hoping to strike up a conversation. "Excuse me," I began, but my voice seemed to dissipate into the ambient noise of the room. They continued their conversation, oblivious to my presence.

"Why does it feel like I'm not really here?" I wondered aloud, the words escaping me in a soft whisper.

With each tentative step, I reached out to engage other guests in conversation, hoping to break through the invisible barrier that separated me from their world.

"Excuse me," I began, as I got closer to a woman standing by the side. "May I join you?"

But my words seemed to vanish into thin air, swallowed up by the cacophony of sounds that surrounded us. The woman turned away without so much as a glance in my direction, leaving me standing there, invisible and alone.

As I attempted to engage the guests in conversation, I noticed something peculiar. Despite my efforts, nobody responded to me. It was as if I were a ghost, my words disappearing into the ether without leaving a trace.

"Why can't anyone hear me?" I muttered, my voice tinged with frustration.

I reached out to touch a nearby guest, but my hand passed through them as if they were made of mist. Panic seized me as I realized the truth.

"This can't be real," I whispered, a chill running down my spine. "I must be dreaming."

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn't really here; I was trapped in the recesses of my own mind, lost in a world of illusions.

The looming presence of the upcoming Founding Ball weighed heavily on my mind, its significance may be casting a shadow over this surreal dream. Perhaps it was the anticipation of the event that had drawn me here, to this ethereal realm where reality danced on the edge of fantasy.

Yet despite the grandeur of the ballroom and the palpable excitement in the air, a sense of unease lingered within me like a dark cloud on the horizon.

"Thank you all for gracing this auspicious occasion with your presence," a voice resonated with authority, cutting through the murmurs of the gathered guests. "Tonight, we celebrate not only my coronation but also the enduring spirit of our beloved kingdom."

As I turned towards the voice, a wave of recognition washed over me. There, amidst the glittering crowd of guests, stood King Maximus Beckwith, ruler of the Corlain Kingdom and brother to Princess Elise Beckwith. His presence exuded authority and dignity, commanding the attention of all who beheld him.

His words echoed in the vast expanse of the ballroom, carrying with them a sense of solemnity and pride. Yet, amidst the grandeur of the moment, a nagging sense of familiarity tugged at the edges of my consciousness.

It was then that I realized—the dream I was experiencing now was intricately linked to the one I had before. The mourners, the mysterious voices, and now, the king's coronation—all connected by a common thread that wove through the fabric of my subconscious.

As the realization dawned upon me, I felt a surge of clarity wash over me, dispelling the confusion and uncertainty that had clouded my mind. This dream was more than just a figment of my imagination; it was a glimpse into a hidden truth, a revelation waiting to be uncovered. It was a vision of Princess Elise Beckwith's story.