The trees reached up to tickle the sky, and the clouds giggled and squirmed out of reach. Green met blue in a whirlwind dance of leaves, the branches grasping at the air and the oceans chasing the runaway breeze. Land and Sky loved to play, nudging little birds along as they flew in the space between, in the overlap of heavy soil and light winds.
I jolt awake, sitting up and breathing heavily. My back is covered in sweat, and my arms shake. I stay like that, my head bowed and fists clenched, unable to get rid of my uneasiness. I squeeze my eyes shut, then open them wide. The darkness pushes at my pupils, an unwelcome guest. I slowly sink back into the mattress, pulse thrumming in my veins. There’s a faint glow in my peripheral vision, angry and unyielding. I ignore it. No need to fuel the nightmares.
You look ridiculous with that plasma gun in your hand. You were always better with a sword. It’s a shame really, that swords are so outdated, so unfit for a royal. You were always so confident, strong and assured when you were wielding one. You with a gun is just wrong. Unsettling. Especially when it’s pointed at me.