My punishment was much as I expected it. Those sylphs who violate rules are tasked by our elders with weaving the dreams of killers and madmen. It is a task that must be done — sleep with no dreams but the phantoms you create yourself is a dangerous thing, all the more so when the mind of the dreamer is already fractured. Yet it is a horrible task to undertake, for their memories are full of things most unpleasant, and the fragments left behind by such twisted souls are bitter sustenance indeed, barely enough for a sylph to subsist on.

Even so, the hate and madness of the dreams was bearable compared to the pain and emptiness I felt at losing him. It was not so terribly long, although it seemed so, before the Elder came to me with a final task to complete my punishment, something crueler still than my nightly torment.

I was told that my dreamer’s attachment to me was interfering with his waking life to a completely unacceptable degree. That, further, he had been asking for me, incessantly, in the dreams woven for him. That even an Elder pretending to be me would not placate him. I will not pretend that this did not make my heart leap for joy — he truly did know me, not merely the shapes I had worn while with him.

The pain was trebled, then, when I was told what I must do: Go to him and reject him, so that he might forget about me. I begged, pleaded, for any punishment but that. Yet I knew that it was something that must be done — I owed him as much for what I had done to him.

So, that night, as he slept, I visited him. I was not allowed to weave the dream myself, and was watched closely, lest I say anything past what I was tasked with.

As I approached the dream, I could hear him calling my name, and my heart was a swirl of joy and sorrow at the sound of it. The moment he laid eyes on me, he knew me — I could tell.

“Yuzora? It’s really you this time, right?”

There was a smile on his face, but though my spirit soared I forced all expression from my own. “Yes. It is. I’ve come to tell you the truth.”

“Good, that’s what I came to ask you about anyway. So…”

I interrupted him. “I’m just an image created by your subconscious. You were so lonely that you constructed an idealized fantasy of a woman to fill the gap. You’ve moved on now, so I’m no longer necessary, and you can forget about me.” The pain was unbearable as I said these scripted lines.

“That’s it? No defense? No protest? What about all that dream sylph stuff?”

“Just rationalizations created by your subconscious. Go and live your life now.” I turned to leave, for I could not break the dream myself, as I had not created it, nor could I bear to look at his face any longer.

The dream began to fade, but lingered, perhaps because his will made it difficult for even the Elder who wove it to force him from it. “Wait. This is a stupid question, but I just have to ask. Did you love me?”

I was glad that I was facing away from him and the dream was not mine, for I could not have hidden the joy and lamentation I felt at the question he asked and the answer I gave. “If I had been real, no.”

I believe he called after me, but I left the dream as it faded.

And that is where I am now. Trapped, alone, weaving the nightmares of corrupt souls. My sentence may one day be satisfied, but my heart cannot be unbroken.

Owing to my performance as tasked, I have at least been allowed the occasional untainted dream, albeit far away from him. Yet every time I take one, I feel a further pang of guilt, for the moments of respite are my reward for betraying my love for him.

My only solace is that I recently convinced my closest friend to allow me one last act of repentance, not to the laws of sylphs, but to him. My friend did so at great personal risk, but, being with a dreamer no one would think to consider, it mercifully went unnoticed. I felt it something I had to do, even if he never learns of it.

The tragedy I have wrought is why the rules of sylphs exist, and why they must not be broken. Not for fear of punishment, but because of the sickness of heart I have inflicted on both myself and the dreamer I loved.

For dream sylphs and humans live an existence intertwined with each other, but we are of different worlds, and such affairs cannot end happily.