Chapter 32: Deja Vu (3)
Arthur woke up and talked to Luke. The morning light shone down brightly. They decided to stay one more night, and as the day progressed, Luke and he had many good conversations. But for some reason, Arthur kept experiencing an almost painful amount of déjà vu.
Each time it happened, the sensation would wash over him like a wave—powerful, disorienting, and then gone just as quickly. The pressure behind his temples would build momentarily before subsiding, leaving him confused and slightly unnerved.
Chalking it up to lack of sleep, he ignored it and they went on with their day until night time came. The moon rose into the night sky, its pale light seeping down upon them, finally prompting Arthur to get the sleep he needed. He leaned up against the cold stone wall and closed his eyes, swiftly slipping into slumber.
Only this time, he did not simply wake up the next morning. This time, for the first time since waking up in this realm, he had a dream...
It was dark, and everything was blurry, like a veil covered what he was supposed to see. He heard words, but they were muffled, and he couldn't understand what was being said. All he could put together was how the dream made him feel. He felt scared, terrified even. But more than anything, he felt sad—not average sadness but overwhelming sorrow that seemed to permeate his very being. The emotions felt foreign yet familiar, as though he was experiencing someone else's grief through his own heart.
And then he was awakened by the feeling of a hand starkly pressing against his shoulder.
"Arthur, wake up! You're sleeping half the day away!"
Arthur blasted upwards, ready to manifest his sword, when he was met with the view of his friend Luke sitting in front of him with his eyes lit in shock.
"Relax! It's just me, Arthur," Luke said, hands raised in a placating gesture, his expression shifting from surprise to concern.