I Just Wanted a Peaceful Life… So Why Do Heroes Worship Me?

She gave no name.

Only a smile.

And a notebook filled with charcoal sketches of places she'd never seen—until now.

Rei had let her in without hesitation. Not because he trusted her. But because the sanctuary hadn't rejected her. That, more than any spell or test, was enough.

She walked barefoot on stone paths like she'd done it before, paused at the plum tree and hummed a tune the wind seemed to recognize, and sat by Zephyr without hesitation. He didn't growl. He didn't move. He just blinked, exhaled, and rested his head near her knee.

That was also enough.

The others were... less convinced.

"So," Lynna began that evening, arms folded across her chest. "You had a dream and followed it here?"

The girl—young, but not naïve—nodded. "Yes."

Ferren squinted. "Dream magic? Prophetic resonance? Illusion contamination?"

"I don't know," she replied simply.

Ellyn tilted her head. "You don't seem surprised by any of this."

"I'm not."

"Why?"

"Because I dreamed of all of you, too."

That silenced the room.

She flipped through the notebook. Page after page of crude sketches—Kreg's bakery stand, Rei trimming vines, Lynna mid-spar, Ellyn with ink-stained fingers, Ferren mid-explosion. The likenesses were rough, but the familiarity in the poses was uncanny.

"Even me?" Ferren asked, clearly delighted.

"Yes," she said. "You were running from something on fire."

Ferren's smile faltered. "...That tracks."

Rei studied her without speaking.

She met his gaze calmly. "You were always the clearest. Every dream, you were there. Watching. Not saying anything. But the storms stopped when you looked at them."

Zephyr perked up, eyes flicking toward Rei briefly.

"What do you want?" Rei asked finally.

The girl paused. Then, softly, "To understand."

"Understand what?"

"Why the dreams brought me here."

—

She didn't disturb anything.

Didn't try to help or intrude.

She spent her days walking the edges of the sanctuary, sketching. Watching. She moved like someone waiting for a whisper to make sense. Even Ferren, after a few failed attempts to analyze her "auric field," left her alone.

On the third day, she stood beside the riverbend and quietly said, "They're watching."

Rei, who had been nearby reweaving a cracked barrier stone, didn't look up.

"Who?"

"I don't know. But I feel them. Just like I did in the dreams. The same pressure. The same chill."

Rei placed the last stone and stood. "From inside or outside?"

"Outside," she said. "But it's not looking at me. It's looking at you."

That night, the trees whispered more than usual.

And the sanctuary's moonlight ran colder.

—

The following morning, Fluff refused to leave Rei's side. Zephyr patrolled the outer line twice instead of once. Even Kreg baked with less cheer.

Then the first distortion arrived.

A ripple in the barrier—a flicker, like light bending in a way it shouldn't. Not enough to breach, but enough to announce. A hand knocking, not with knuckles, but with presence.

Rei stood alone at the boundary.

The others watched from afar.

The distortion coalesced.

Not a person. Not a beast. Not a shadow.

Something... between.

An echo of something once powerful, now drifting.

A voice, disembodied, spoke.

"We remember you."

Rei didn't answer.

"You left before your roots finished growing. You fled before the bloom."

Still, Rei said nothing.

"Come back. It's time to resume your role."

Rei blinked.

"Your roots," he repeated softly. "Never forget—some plants grow in stone. And some leave the garden to find light."

The echo paused. Then twisted.

The air grew colder.

"We will remind you."

And it vanished.

Rei turned back, walking toward the others.

"What was that?" Lynna asked.

"A weed I thought I'd pulled," Rei replied.

—

The dreamer approached him after dusk.

"You're not surprised," she said.

"No."

"You expected it?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you still look tired?"

Rei gave her the smallest smile.

"Because peace isn't just something you protect. It's something you have to maintain. Every day. Even when the world wants noise."

She sat beside him.

"Do you think it'll stop?"

"No."

She nodded, satisfied.

Then handed him a page from her notebook.

A new sketch.

Him.

Older. Just slightly. Standing on a cliff. Below him, a crowd—heroes, beasts, strangers—watching him like a prophet.

"You always looked annoyed in this one," she said.

Rei stared at it.

Then, very slowly, ripped the page out and tossed it into the fire.

"I'll keep trying anyway," he said.

She smiled.

"Me too."