delicate scent of the dream

When he awoke, a heavy, bittersweet feeling weighed heavily on his chest, while a pleasant warmth flooded his body – the echo of a dream that flowed like a still, flowing river. The images of the water elves, their seductive laughter, the soft gurgling of the water, the wet reflections of light dancing on their skin were so vivid that they seemed to him like a hidden spell woven just for him.

A mysterious tug awoke in him, a sense that the dream had been more than just a fleeting image. He felt called, as if the nocturnal vision had whispered a hidden invitation into his ear. His heart pounding, he crossed the forest that morning, his steps quickening as the trees embraced him like old friends. It was as if the whole forest was letting him in on an ancient secret that had been waiting for him.

Once at the lake, the memories flashed – the elves in translucent robes that lay over their bodies like a shimmering veil, revealing a fleeting secret with every movement. Their eyes, filled with a strange, vivid light, and their graceful gestures made his heart race. A faint echo of her laughter floated in the air, and he thought he detected a delicate scent of fresh water and beguiling flowers that hung in the breeze like an enticement.

Hesitantly, he approached the water, his hand slid gently over the cool surface and a fine tremor ran through his fingers. At that moment, as the water lapped gently against his hand, he felt that a piece of the dream had remained in him – a burning longing for something unattainable that nevertheless seemed so close that he could almost touch it, if only he dared to take the last step.