Elden Ring: Tarnished Flame Vyke

Soon they entered a room, the faint glow of moonlight illuminated the sparse furnishings—a simple chamber with two beds placed against opposite walls. He walked to the nearest one, shrugging off his armor and setting his weapon within arm's reach.

Nyra lingered by the doorway, arms crossed, watching him with her usual guarded expression.

"There's another bed," he said, gesturing toward it without looking up. "You should take it."

Nyra's response was immediate. "No."

He stopped, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he turned to look at her. "No?"

"I'm not sleeping over there," she said flatly, striding further into the room. Her gaze locked onto his bed as if it were already decided.

"And why not?" he asked.

She met his eyes without hesitation, her expression steady. "Because this castle isn't safe yet. You think I'm going to leave your side after everything? I'm not wasting time pretending otherwise."

He smirked, leaning casually against the bedframe. "Nyra, I've faced beasts, Misbegotten. I think I can handle one night without a bodyguard hovering over me."

"Maybe."

"But it's not happening. Deal with it."

He chuckled lowly, shaking his head. "I'm not asking. I'll take the floor if I have to, but I'm not leaving you alone tonight."

"Oh, come on, just admit you want to be close to me," he muttered, his voice low but clear enough for her to hear.

Her eyes narrowed as her pulse quickened, though she feigned annoyance. "And what if I said you're imagining things?"

"Then I'd say you're a terrible liar," stepping closer. His tone held a teasing warmth.

"Fine," he said simply, his tone leaving no room for further argument. "But if you hog the blanket, don't expect me to tolerate it."

"Please. You're lucky I'm not kicking you out of your own bed entirely."

"Keep dreaming," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

They settled in silence, the tension of the day melting away as the quiet of the castle surrounded them. 

When she turned her back to him, her voice softened. "Get some rest. Tomorrow won't be any easier."

He smirked faintly, his eyes closing. "With you around, I wouldn't expect it to be."

 ...

"Where is this?" he muttered, his gaze sweeping over the endless flower field, the sky a breathtaking blend of soft pastels. The world around him seemed surreal, almost dreamlike. Flowers of every color swayed gently in the breeze, and the atmosphere was heavy with the scent of blooms. For some, it might have been nothing but an endless sea of flowers, but to him, it felt... otherworldly.

As he wandered further, something caught his attention. A figure sat in the distance, still and silent, gazing toward the opposite horizon, as if oblivious to the world around her.

"Hello!" he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. Yet, there was no response. It was as if she hadn't heard him at all. He frowned and called again, louder this time, "Hey, can you hear me?" Still, there was no answer.

His curiosity growing, he walked closer, trying to get a better look. As he neared, he saw the woman clearly—her long, flowing golden hair catching the light of the ethereal sky. She wore a beautiful black dress, elegant and almost out of place in such a serene setting. Despite the overwhelming beauty of the scene, she remained completely still, her back turned to him as if in deep thought, or perhaps lost in another world entirely.

He took another step forward, but suddenly, an invisible force stopped him in his tracks. He reached out, but his hand met nothing but an unseen barrier. He tried to push against it, but it felt like stone, firm and unyielding.

"What is this... some kind of barrier?" he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. He glanced back at the woman, trying to figure out why she seemed untouched by the world around her. Was this barrier somehow blocking his sound, his presence?

He paced back and forth, feeling trapped by the force that surrounded him. Why was he here? Who was this golden-haired woman, sitting in silence as though she were imprisoned in this endless field of flowers? She looked peaceful, yet the stillness in her posture suggested something more—like she was waiting, or perhaps bound to this place, unable to leave.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed answers. What was this place, and why did it feel so real? The questions swirled in his mind, the need for clarity pressing against him like the invisible barrier that held him back from the woman.

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. "Wh...at?" he muttered, his voice thick with confusion.

The dream—the vibrant, otherworldly scene—faded in an instant, replaced by an all-too-familiar, dimly lit room. He was sitting on the edge of a bed, the cool air brushing against his skin. The soft rustling of curtains was the only sound that greeted him as he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream.

His breath steadied, and the surroundings came into sharper focus. This place was nothing like the flower-filled world he had just left behind. The walls were lined with dark wood, and the only light came from a flickering candle on a nearby table. His fingers brushed against his forehead, as if to confirm that he was indeed awake.

"That was... a dream?" he whispered to himself, disoriented.

But the more he thought about it, the less certain he felt. The images from the dream lingered in his mind—too vivid, too real to be mere fantasy.

He could still feel the cool breeze of the flower field, smell the flowers in the air, and even hear the faint whispers of the petals moving in the wind.

And that woman, her golden hair shimmering in the golden light.