In a certain dream, where time and space collided into everything yet also nothingness, only a single tree existed. It stood unbothered in the center of what seemed to be the universe itself–or it might be just a simple room lacking any furniture whatsoever. And as far as a pair of eyes could see, it had no corners or sides. An endless void with this golden tree at its center. 

The tree shone brightly with its yellow radiance and gold sparkles like glitter that would never fade. It shimmered and pulsed once every moment–be it seconds or eons–in its dazzling appearance. If eyes could witness its glow, they would either rejoice in awe or recoil in fear, unable to grasp the sheer spectacle before them.

Enchanting. Mesmerizing. Alluring. 

Yet also daunting. Terrifying. Horrifying. 

Around its trunk were branches foiled in the same striking color–tens, hundreds, thousands, millions.

A single individual found himself lying on one branch, not too low near the root but still quite far to reach the other branches. Right in the middle, that would be the correct way to explain it, a pathetic sight as if both he and the lonely tree’s limb were abandoned. Its color gradually became paler, and before the individual knew it, he had lost his footing.

The branch had corroded, leaving him in a freefall with no bottom in sight….

***

When the young man opened his eyes, he saw wooden planks arranged in a neat succession from right to left and up to down. Logs supported the planks, securing them in place. It looked like a roof, but in his current position, he had no way of knowing for sure. 

As he wiggled around, he noticed a soft, flat surface supporting his body. Calling it comfortable would be an understatement. His back screamed in such blissful satisfaction. If it had a mouth, it would probably let out an invigorating moan the young man himself didn’t know he was capable of making. On top of his body was a white blanket big enough to cover his neck until his toes, providing warmth much different from the chilling sensation he had experienced before his sight blurred into obscurity. 

Because of that, it isn’t a surprise for him to think that he had passed away to the afterlife–heaven, preferably, where beautiful angels sound their trumpets and a merry banquet welcomed his entrance.

The thing is, as much as that thought brought peace to mind, he had another explanation for his situation, one that was more believable–

“–I’m still alive.”

And the fact that he woke up in a strange place means someone had moved him to this specific location while he was unconscious. The question was who had done it, and, to add to it, why. 

Comrades–trying to save his life?

Enemies–waiting to subject him to inhumane torture?

Strangers–having either a benevolent or malicious intent?

There was nothing he could achieve just by guessing. He needed to see the person in question and his unfamiliar surroundings using his own two eyes. One thing bothered him, however–or rather, it was the lack of something under the blanket. He commanded his right hand to peel the blanket to the side, but nothing happened. Once again he tried, only to end with the same result. The more he tried, the more he realized something was wrong.

The young man rose from his slumber, fighting back against gravity until he was in a sitting position. He blinked twice, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The view and sensation stayed the same. No doubt in his mind–he had lost his right arm. 

To be more specific, it was a clean cut on his elbow, so calling it a complete loss might not be the best depiction. Alas, he was still missing an arm, but to his surprise, he didn’t really react much. He stared at the clean stump where his arm should have been. No blood. No pain. Different from a corpse, he found his heart still beating in a constant rhythm, as he exhaled and inhaled at his own pace, letting the thought settle down.

Although in his mind he had deemed himself a dead man, maybe death itself had already come and gone, leaving him behind in this world. 

“Still, this feels weird,” he mumbled.

He shifted his position to the side and planted his feet on a wooden floor. It made a slight squeaking sound, which startled him a little. Looking around, there wasn’t much he could observe. The bed he had just woken up on was in the corner, while a chair–made using the same material–accompanied it on the side. Aside from those things, the only object he could interact with in the room was a wooden door a few meters away from him, so normally, he approached it. 

At first, as someone who was right-handed, the young man attempted to open the door using his right hand only to find half of it. He then raised his left hand until his fingers wrapped around the door handle and gave it a gentle push downward.

Another sight welcomed the young man, now more akin to a living room of a cottage–a wooden rectangular table close to the wall with chairs arranged side by side (three in total), an unlit fireplace, and a well-organized kitchen on the right corner. One door piqued his interest in particular. Squeezed between two curtained windows, that door smelt like sunshine and dirt. A ray of light seeped from the gap under it.

“This must lead me outside.”

It would connect him to the outside world, he thought. Whatever lay ahead, it wouldn’t be as horrible as the nightmarish hellscape of war, he believed.