For Castian, the day already seemed heavier than it should. He descended the stairs slowly, his body tired and his mind worn out from the nightmares that had disturbed his sleep. Each step he took seemed to echo in his mind, a constant reminder of what he had seen the previous night.
The familiar smell of toasted bread and coffee floated through the air, a sign of normalcy that contrasted with the turmoil Castian felt inside. Mei, his mother, was busy at the table, serving breakfast. Cheng, his father, was already seated, a newspaper open in front of him, but his attention wasn’t on the text; he was silently observing his son approaching.
"Good morning, my son," Mei greeted him, smiling warmly as he entered the kitchen. She always had a welcoming energy in the mornings, something that usually calmed Castian. However, today, he simply returned her smile with a quick nod, unable to find words. He sat at the table, his mind still caught in the images that had haunted his dreams.
Mei frowned slightly, noticing the lack of conversation. Castian usually engaged more, participated in the meals, but lately, this silence was becoming more frequent. She exchanged a discreet look with Cheng, who observed their son with growing concern.
The bowl of rice Mei placed in front of Castian remained untouched. He just pushed the grains around with his chopsticks, without appetite. His thoughts were far from there, wandering among the vivid memories of the destroyed village, flames consuming everything, and the soldiers—those shadowy figures he couldn’t identify, but whose malevolent power was undeniable.
Cheng, unable to ignore his son’s behavior, finally broke the silence.
"Castian, is something wrong?" His voice had a firm yet gentle tone, a balance he mastered well. He put the newspaper aside, looking at his son attentively.
Castian remained silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the plate in front of him. He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about what he had seen—the weight of the visions tormenting his mind was something he felt he should bear alone. But the concern in Cheng's gaze made him realize he couldn’t hide it forever.
"I didn’t sleep well," he finally said, his voice low and hoarse from exhaustion. "I had nightmares all night… I couldn’t rest."
Mei, who was standing by the table, approached and placed a gentle hand on Castian's shoulder.
"Nightmares?" she asked softly, leaning in to get a better look at her son’s face. "My dear, what did you dream of?"
Castian hesitated, feeling the weight of his words even before he spoke them. Reluctantly, he finally looked up and met his parents' eyes.
"I dreamed… of the village. It was engulfed in flames. Everything was destroyed. There were soldiers, many soldiers, surrounding everything. But… I couldn’t see their faces. They were shadows, dark figures. Everything seemed… dark, unrecognizable."
Cheng frowned as he heard this, leaning slightly forward in his chair. His eyes narrowed, trying to decipher his son's words, and perhaps to understand what lay behind that account. He knew Castian had been through a lot lately, and dreams, especially nightmares, could be reflections of those pressures.
"It was just a nightmare, Castian," Cheng said, trying to reassure him. His voice was firm as usual, bringing an attempt at security that Castian would normally appreciate. "The village is safe. That will never happen. You’ve been carrying a lot of worries in the past days, and it may be affecting your sleep. Don’t let these dreams haunt you. They have no power over reality."
Castian nodded slowly, but the truth was more complicated. He knew what he had seen wasn’t a simple nightmare. The visions were becoming more frequent, and he was beginning to fear they were more than mere dreams. It was as if the future were trying to send him a message, a warning about what was coming. And he didn’t know how to tell his parents this without causing panic.
"I know..." he murmured, trying to convince himself as much as them. "But it all felt so real."
Mei noticed her son’s hesitation and felt her discomfort intensify. Her maternal instinct warned her there was something more, something Castian wasn’t fully sharing. She looked from Castian to Cheng, seeking support to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"Castian, you should take the day to rest a little more," she suggested, her voice gentle and caring. "I’ll prepare some tea for you. It might help relax your mind. The Spring Festival is approaching, and it would be good for you to take some time to recuperate before everything starts getting busy."
Cheng, realizing Mei’s attempt to ease the tension, gave a slight nod of approval.
"Yes, that’s a good idea. The festival always brings a new energy to the village. I think that might be just what you need."
Castian forced a smile, grateful for his parents’ attempt to comfort him. But inside, he knew none of this would ease the weight he felt. Those visions—or what he believed were visions—would not simply disappear. And as much as he wanted to believe in Cheng’s comforting words, a part of Castian couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark was about to happen.
Mei returned to the kitchen to prepare the tea, but her eyes kept glancing back to Castian. She knew her son was hiding something, and his silence on the subject spoke more than any words could. She made a mental note to have a deeper conversation with him later, perhaps away from Cheng’s presence, where Castian might feel more comfortable opening up.
Meanwhile, Castian remained silent, fighting the urge to tell the truth. He looked at his father, who was still trying to convey a sense of security, and felt a mix of gratitude and frustration. Cheng wanted to protect his family, but Castian knew there were things he needed to face himself. Things he couldn’t share without causing more fear.
"Have you been training enough, Castian?" Cheng asked, trying to shift the focus to something lighter. "Keeping the body and mind active helps deal with stress. Maybe we should train together later, what do you think?"
"Maybe," Castian replied, but his tone made it clear he wasn’t really committed to the idea. His mind was still caught up in the images from the dream—the flames, the shadows, the feeling of helplessness.
Breakfast continued, but the atmosphere in the room felt heavy. The silence Castian chose to keep was, in a way, more revealing than any words he could have spoken. Mei and Cheng continued talking among themselves, discussing preparations for the festival and the small details of daily life, but both knew that something more serious was unfolding deep within Castian’s mind.
Finally, when the tea was ready, Mei served a cup to Castian and sat down again at the table, watching him with an understanding look.
"Everything will be alright, my son," she said softly, as she handed him the cup. "If you need to talk about anything… we’re here."
Castian took the cup, the warmth of the tea rising to his face. He looked at his mother and felt a wave of emotion pass over him. The safety she radiated, his father’s silent support… he knew he could trust them, but at the same time, he felt this was a battle he had to face alone.
"Thank you, Mother," he murmured, taking a sip of the tea. Even though the unease didn’t fade, Mei’s warm gesture gave him a brief moment of peace.
The day was only beginning, and Castian knew there were many challenges ahead. He couldn’t ignore the visions, couldn’t ignore what he felt was coming. But for now, he chose to remain silent, carrying the burden alone—at least until he was ready to share the truth with those he loved most.