Isabella Hawthorne
I did not dream of Eirik.
I did not even dream of myself. I dreamt of a woman. A woman I did not know.
The world shimmered, not with the soft luminescence of moonlight, but with a kaleidoscope of colors that defied definition. It wasn't a sky above me, but an ever-shifting canvas, swirling with celestial brushstrokes of sapphire, emerald, and molten gold. Here, the ground was not solid earth, but a platform of clouds that pulsed faintly beneath my bare feet. Everything felt lighter, as if gravity itself held a looser grip on this luminous plane.
Towering figures surrounded the woman in my dreams. Their appearances were beyond human comprehension – some with skin of shimmering pearl, others with eyes that pulsed like miniature suns. Yet, despite their otherworldly fo
