Kôra awoke in this strange barren land, spread below the yellow sky. Colors of muted yellow tinted him in its overlay, while the ground he laid on was ashy in all aspects. The boy lifted his arm to a surprise; he was dressed in a familiar broken-white hemp tunic in traditional style. His brown trousers were also there; the set was exactly his daily attire back in the village. Still in disbelief and disorientation, Kôra assessed his bodily condition. There were no wounds over his body, or the aching pain that weighed him down, or the tubes he never wanted them to be inserted. To think of it, his recollection of the previous events now felt hazy. He thought the detachment of senses was because he was dreaming; it was however, not. In fact all of his senses did not feel quite asleep. Everything was vivid, he was alive and feeling. Kôra had read about what could explain this strange phenomenon; a lucid dream.

But which was the lucid dream? Was it that time he was made to stab himself? Or was it this time he was thrown into a strange realm?

Kôra did not know but stare at the sky; it started to feel comforting.

A passing shadow paused his thought; a large, soaring black bird casted it. The only other living being as far as he perceived, the bird has been there since Kôra opened his eyes. It kept circling the scene; the boy even lost count. Out of the blue, it dove down somewhere afar and vanished. Left alone, only clouds of dust and mysteries surrounded Kôra now.

To think of it, why was there a bird? I've never seen something like that in the village.

Kôra's contemplation ended, as increasing amounts of vibration jolted him up. A small horde of monstrous beings approached from afar. It was easier to distinguish bigger ones, if  the distance was not rendering them shapeless. Their forms were grotesque Kôra was almost startled. Some of them were indescribable bizarre beings, some were completely unthinkable mash of known shapes. He sighted a tentacle-mouthed being, a bipedal crocodile, a headless hippocampus, and a ten-limbed blob to name a few. The total was perhaps around twenty.

They were getting closer, faster and belligerent. Kôra gazed at them without moving from his befuddled state. As fright started to slither in, he convinced himself that he would awaken as soon as the grotesques reached his body. This was nothing more than an unpleasant dream, unreal unpleasantness. Dreams and nightmares will ease away unlike reality; perhaps it was the time to stop giving in to his senses of terror.

No matter how loud he heard them coming; no matter how strong he was shaking as the ground trembled by their steps; Kôra kept reminding himself he would wake up soon.

Not even when the boy suddenly felt a gripping sensation around his body. A tentacle-mouthed dark beast pulled his limp body to its sharp central beaks. Before it could completely seize him, the other monsters shoved it in an effort to steal the prey. The skirmish of predators threw Kôra four meters away; and as the boy was out of range, some of them started turning to each other. The boy thought that he had been let go off this travesty, only to got up to other parts of the horde surrounding him.

He closed his eyes, escaping from the unbecoming, the bloodthirsty side of his dream. Even though it was surely one, anxiety still set in. Oh Kâmun, please do not make it worse! I will wake up soon, I will—

It was not until one pitch black monster came into view, sturdy in the shape of a gargantuan five meters otherworldly buffalo. It dashed through all the monsters with immense strength, overpowering all the smaller creatures in its way. Just like a handclap, it changed shape into a much bigger ungulate with branched antler, stomping and ramming the falling victims to ensure their death. As it lifted his head, dark red liquid dripped from it soaked antlers.

The largest monster in a horde, a barely bear-like creature, challenged it. The opponent, now a towering ten meters simian beast, was far from an even match. The bear was hurled aside, crashing to the ground without much struggle. As a finishing move, the ape slammed it into the ground again and again, carving a shallow crater with each blow. It wiped out the rest of the monsters with little effort.

The sole winner stood over the remains of they other monsters; they looked like clotted lumps of blood. As it walked towards Kôra, its form melted and evaporated into a rising black smoke. The smoke billowed, twirled, condensed, and reformed into a shape. Such a view captivated Kôra; he wondered what shape it would took next.

To Kôra's surprise, it formed a shape of a fairly muscular masculine humanoid. The creature was much taller than the kid; he wore a sleeveless black jacket, exposing the matching pitch black skin of arms. Those eyes of his were like glowing lamps on his face, right blue and left green. His silvery short hair framed his sturdy face, with an aquiline nose and stern expression. From a look, Kôra knew his nature contrasted those previous animalistic beasts. He is an entirely different being of sentience and sapience; he is a person.

Kôra could not take his eyes off from how stray smokes were integrating into his body, analyzing every step that being took towards him. The being's strides were steady and exuding presence; he indeed was the magnificent creature of the dream—

Wham!

Without any warning, that being punched Kôra’s cheek, throwing him by the sheer force despite of its effortless nature. Pain and pressure flooded his jaw, even his head ached; the extremely realistic sensation dumbfounded Kôra.

“What the fuck were you thinking, stupid bastard?!” a male voice barked. His raspy voice was piercing, though his mouth seemed unmoving. He looked at Kôra’s garb and made a squinting face. “If you want to kill yourself, do it somewhere else.”

Kôra replied with an empty stare. The creature's strange aggressive approach only added to his confusion from the preceding event. Was his imagination this fierce?

“Hey, midget! Are you listening?! Xha nwaiexata?!” the irritated being even tried to ask in a foreign language. It was magnificent what a dream could create.

Kôra looked at that creature in the eyes, such some odd eyes those are. In Sandur, heterochromia is chiefly a characteristic indicating a certain species of sapient non-human creature. This being is indisputably inhuman as in his spectacular change of guise. The boy thought this was real and was strange for real.

“Why cannot I die here?” Kôra asked with a weak voice.

“It’s unsightly and disturbs my job.”

“Job? Please do not be so rude, Mister—you are just my imagination,” the boy complained, still in a tired monotone.

The creature’s eyes squinted. “I’m realer than your fucking brain.”

Kôra never jolted up to stand as quickly as that before. “That is enough! You are my imagination, obey me,” the boy commanded.

The shape shifter clicked his tongue.

“Wake up! Wake up!” Kôra pinched and slapped himself.

That being walked away to a stack of melting carcasses, not wanting to deal with the lunacy of the stranger. In the background, Kôra was still continuously rolling and slapping himself in a distraught attempt to wake himself up. The shape shifter did not bother and snacked on the remaining bodies that have not yet evaporated; before Kôra’s tomfoolery occurred long enough to corrode his appetite. That being revealed a small green glowing orb on his palm. Its light scanned every minuscule part of evaporating dead monsters’ essence, it changed the orb into purple color in response. The shape shifter showed a pleased look to that outlandish object, before he continued his business to the perplexed boy in front of him.

“I’m Izky, Xhicaite astral hunter, Silver Guild,” the creature introduced himself to Kôra, still having some bits of food in his mouth. That boy discerned the name of a well-known being and ethnicity. “In case you’re a moron or an amnesiac, this is still the Solar part of the Astral realm.”

“How am I here? How to return?”

“Why the hell should I know?” Izky blurted out. “Just return.”

“I can not,” Kôra debunked. If that is true he would have returned earlier. “I need to return, I have to return! If can not I will cause trouble! I cannot cause more problems. . . Please! Please!” the boy implored in a burst of panic. “Or are you going to kidnap me? You give answers!”

Izky’s mind could not take anymore, the absolute mess of how Kôra weaved his thoughts was unbearable. He clenched his fist, holding back from punching the person once more. “Stop bitching! Use your ability like any other creature who isn't a failure!”

“I am a human!”

That took Izky by surprise. “Huh?! You smell funny for a human.” The person approached Kôra in a few steps with a perplexed expression, to gain a clearer image. “Well, you look somewhat human, but not your smell, and you have no silver chord.”

“I do not smell anything,” Kôra said while sniffing himself. “What is silver chord?”

“A fucking human, then,” the creature remarked.

“Yes, I am exactly a human!” he reiterated. It got annoying for what should be obvious. “Please help me go back, I do not think I belong here.”

Izky examined the nagging person to find an answer. Maybe he would stop being annoying if helped. Nothing struck his mind at the moment. Kôra seemed and behaved human-like at the most, discounted by his unusual smell. An odor will not be hidden by adding layers of more odor. That was what he thought about it that made him sure the kid was different.

“You don’t have the silver cord or it’s very weak that it’s invisible, humans who get lost here usually have it,” Izky pointed at his nape. “It connects your material body to your projection here. If it’s severed, your body won’t gain consciousness.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can’t go back—”

It struck Kôra freezing in shock. Eyes widened, he fell weak to his knees. “Impossible. . .”

“Unless you use a portal, dumbfuck,” Izky emphasized the last part, annoyed by the kid’s dramatic premature response.

Kôra sighed hard with relief. He has caused troubles to Uncle and Keane, they need to worry no more. He would return soon.

“So, human,” Izky said. “Tell me about yourself.”

“My name is Kôra, I am thirteen.”

“You’re really a fucking kid? Sorry for punching you, I thought you’re a midget,” he sounded genuinely surprised and regretful for something that should have been obvious. Due to the concealed nature of this realm, Kôra accepted his apology with two nods. “Where do you come from?”

“I’m a Tôryaemaen, from Grahein,” the kid answered. “I was hurt and ran to hospital, then I fell asleep and got here.”

“You don’t look Tôryaemaen; those eyes are strange for a human,” he analyzed Kôra’s features. "You look more like us in our human form."

Kôra rubbed his left eyelid, his green eye must be visible again at this point. He concluded that seals which affect his physical body were void here. The kid was used to being told that; dark brown hair is rare within the Tôryaemaen, even in the northern parts where medium brown hair is common. It is even rarer in southern parts like Aylar and Kragehn where the majority of them have saffron-hued hair. Moreover, his skin tone is darker than most of them.

“Grahein, huh? Now that you mentioned it, you look familiar. Were you visiting Thierna week ago? “Izky asked again.

“Yes,” Kôra remembered the cafe Delven brought him to. “How do Izky knows?”

“Not to make you shit your pants, creatures like me can see what humans can’t,” he gave a disclaimer. “I was there, and there’s someone else following you besides your friends.”

“Who?!” Kôra’s nerves got tense. He thought he knew where this will point to.

“A guy, not from your realm,” Izky continued. “He’s around my height, long hair, wears white, has similar eyes and skin like you.”

Kôra froze in a piercing thrill. Everything matched that it was unmistakable. That was him, The Hanged Man.

“For whatever fucking reason he kept staring at you like a hungry dog until he realized I could see him. What a strange-looking thing. You know him?”

“Why did not. . . Tell me?”

“Why would I? Motherfucker quickly vanished, anyway,” Izky reasoned. In his recalling was the unsettling, mischievous grin of that apparition, while he slowly faded to obscurity. “Who is he?"

“I do not know. . . He harms, he deceives. . . Claiming I am the same. . . He forces me. . . “ Kôra’s voice was shaking. “He. . . Made me. . . Stab myself! He. . . The Aylar earthquake. . . He. . . Did. . ."

The creature’s gaze strayed away from the distressed kid with discomfort. He was unprepared for this powerful reaction, or the fact that the stalker was evidently more sinister than he thought. The kid’s frantic behaviors earlier now made more sense.

“Sorry for bringing into this! Izky please do not involve with him!” Kôra begged in dread. With two hands he clasped the shape shifter’s right hand and raised it to the chest level; a blessing gesture. “Is he still here? If so, please leave for safety! He can kill! Izky can die!”

Izky’s eyes widened at the last sentences Kôra uttered.

“That bastard isn’t here. Calm down,” the creature assured with an apathetic tone. Yet ensuring himself to let the anxious boy’s hand go, gently.

“Praise Lord Kâmun. . .” Kôra said in relief.

“For now,” the creature continued. “He’s probably the reason why you’re here.”

“How?! Do not make false scare!” Kôra’s sense of safety was once again shattered.

“Maybe spirits; they can do that,” Izky said. “But spirits rarely fuck with us unless they have very strong intents.”

“Spirits? He is a spirit? How?! Why?!” Kôra deluged Izky again with questions. “Do Mr. Izky knows what do they want? What do they want?”

The creature scowled with his hands on hips. “Figure it yourself, you lazy fuck!” berated him. “Pray to Kâmun you don’t have a powerful one tethered to you.”

A brisk gust of wind blew inside Kôra’s chest, it affirmed to the deepest fear he had in mind. The teen wondered about what the hanged man wanted. For his tender age he could be sure he has done none of the grave sins condemned by god and mortals alike. He knew well almost all the thirteen years he had gone through, he never once saw anyone like that person. Unless there was a stack of unknown things about himself he had yet to learn, or had forgotten.

He had to find out for sure, and that only if he could return.

“You’ll return.”

Those words from Izky rendered Kôra speechless; it was comforting in a sense. Tired of seeing an ugly, pitiful kid stare at him; Izky nodded again to reaffirm. He signaled the boy to follow him. In reply, Kôra smiled then hurried his steps.