I think some people might have played my game "A Dying Dream", but since my RPG maker's trial expired and I don't have enough time, I guess I'll make a story instead.

I already have an idea for A Passing Time, which is the sequel, but I guess I'll finish A Dying Dream first!

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PROLOGUE: Daughter of the Dream

The robed man shuffled uncomfortably on the throne. As a dark figure slowly rose towards him, he nodded his head impatiently for him to start talking.

"Master," said the visitor, bowing. "Your lordship possesses the greatest power-"

"Skip the praises," snapped the first man. "What do you have?"

"Master... you know your slaves?"

"Of course I do, what do you want to say? Be quick."

"Master, within those slaves, there's the sewing mistress woman, Kylie."

"A frail woman is she. She was sent into slavery ever since more than a decade ago, and she was pregnant that time too. Heaven knows who the father is. Continue," gestured the man on the throne.

"She has a daughter."

"I know she has a daughter. Hanelle, she called her. Orange-haired little girl, pretty quiet."

"She's fifteen... and... not just that..."

"Hmm?"

The visitor seemed lost for words. Gasping, he righted himself and whispered, "She's the last descendant of the Dream, Master!"

"I'll get rid of her, then. Opportunity strikes..." said the man on the throne carelessly. "Looks like the chance for me to destroy the Dream Clan once and for all is here, then? The power of the Dream... passes on to only every first child of the previous descendant... her father must be it, I presume?"

"I believe so, Master."

"What a chance!" laughed the king, straightening himself up, while the visitor bowed low, with an ugly grin, expecting some sort of reward.

Nice story!

It's a really interesting prologue. I can't wait to see more of the story.

CHAPTER ONE: No More

Gloria nudged Hanelle in the ribs, causing her to wake up with a start.

"I've got to get to the kitchens before the cooks kill me," she whispered. "The King's got an important visitor today. Can't leave important visitors alone, no."

And she sprinted up the steps of the slaveroom. Dressed in rags, Hanelle yawned and stood up from the brown mat she was lying on. She stretched and clambered up. She turned around to see her mother, Kylie, still silent and sewing fine silk gowns in a corner.

With one last glance at her mother, she climbed up the steps to ask the high slave what she had to do. Hanelle was only fifteen, but as everyone else was too old and Hanelle wasn't good in anything else, she was given the "chore" of chasing thieves away from the treasure store.

Today was no different. The head slave commanded Hanelle to find out who had been stealing gold from the treasure room.

Sighing, she bounded down to the room and peeked. Indeed, there was a young thief with a dagger, trying to crack open the lock of a chest.

"Hold it right there!" ordered Hanelle. Ten years of shouting at thieves had caused her voice to be unnaturally loud. Often, the thieves would cower at Hanelle's famous go-away-or-else glare and her voice that warned people not to oppose her.

This thief definitely heard about Hanelle's famous voice, but had also definitely heard rumors that Hanelle's not strong enough to beat a cockroach. He turned around and smirked at Hanelle, who was rather taken aback.

"Did you hear me?" yelled Hanelle. "Get away and don't come back!" Her hands fumbled into her pockets for a stone or some other weapon, but the royalty were already so confident that Hanelle could chase them away with a yell and a glare that she had nothing but her most treasured piece of coloured rock that her mother had given her since she was young.

The thief stopped trying to crack open the chest. He ran towards Hanelle and without warning, knocked her headlong into a wall, her orange hair flying over her shoulders. Now she was certainly scared. There was no one near the dungeons, and the thief had cornered her, who was a head shorter than him.

She grasped the rock in her pocket, her eyes closed. She prayed hard. The thief was definitely going to kill her; his dagger point touching her throat. She twirled her fingers around the rock, felt the connection. Twirl, twirl, twirl. Beautiful swirls, like how people fall asleep, how they dream, how they feel happy, how nightmares are chased away. The power became stronger and stronger, Hanelle almost yelled out. She heard an yell somewhere distant, that jerked her awake.

She felt weak. She felt weak and powerless. She felt as though she was dying. She felt as if she had been used, as if her very life was being drained from her. As if her entire life had been sucked into that small rock.

But then, when Hanelle opened her eyes, she saw that thief lying on the ground, eyes open in horror, twitching as though he's having some sort of hallucination.

"No... don't come near me, you monster!" he screamed to thin air. "ARGH!!!!!!!!!"

The yell shook the walls. When Hanelle opened her eyes again, the thief was dead.

Scared to death? How is that possible? What did he see?

Nightmares...

Nightmares aren't a small matter. Hanelle didn't know what happened. As the darkness closed in upon her, she sank onto the ground in a weak faint.

Nice chapter.Hope you update.

Yay, an update. I really like this so far. Patiently waiting for more.

CHAPTER TWO: Kylie's Warning

Night is falling. Covered in bruises as she was beaten by one of the king's butlers for supposedly "falling asleep" in the treasure room during her shift.

"How did you kill him?" cried Gloria in exclamation. "You've never killed someone before!"

Hanelle would just shake her head and lightly brush her back where she was whipped. She didn't know why, either. She just felt so weak, so drained, and so confused.

As if... she didn't know how to phrase it, but she felt as if she killed the thief... no, she KNEW that she killed the thief. And it was as if killing the thief had destroyed some part of her soul or her life force.

It was one a.m. in the morning. Hanelle crept back down to the slavehold room. As usual, her mother was still in a corner, old wrinkled face, eyebags gathering underneath, sewing on to a beautiful silk gown.

Hanelle whispered, "Goodnight, mother," and crept onto the mat.

After 2 minutes of sleep, she was woken up by the ever so lovely voice of her mother.

"Hanelle. Hanelle."

"Mother?"

"Hanelle. Hanelle."

"What is it, Mother?" Gloria was already asleep.

"Go."

"Huh?!"

"Hanelle, I can feel it. I felt it since a month ago. Hanelle, go. Get away from here. Don't stay here any longer. He will find you and kill you. Leave Dhair, don't come back. And bring Lia with you."

"Mother! You aren't talking sense!" cried Hanelle.

"No more questions. Go!" yelled Kylie, tossing a ball gown into Hanelle's hands, and with surprising strength, tugged her out of the slave's entrance of the palace, throwing her out and locking the door behind her.

Confused, Hanelle banged on the wall in futile for a few minutes. Fists bleeding and eyes full of tears, she felt betrayed. What was going on? She was still clutching her ball gown, the last momento of her mother.

Kylie wanted her to leave. What did that mean?

She felt it too. Murderous intent. Dark, black eyes like holes, invading her dreams.

She was right. Somebody wanted to kill her.

She must go. And bring Lia together with her.

Intersting update.
What will Hanelle do now?

Loved it, keep it going!

oh wow what an amazing story!!!!~ i am lovin it so far! oh and one more thing will you write the heading updated so i know? u know just change your first post when you update...pwetty please? i hope you update soon^_^

I know this was last updated two years ago, but are you going to continue this?

Ehehehe, four years, actually. ^^; I suppose I just kind of thought people don't usually pay much attention to original stories here. Though I guess I will continue this when I re-brush up the plot; I can't remember much of it anymore, tbh. I'm glad you're still interested in it though. I'll try to update this when I get things sorted out.

Alright, I guess I have the adequate materials to revive this story, but since my writing style was quite a lot rustier four years ago, I'll be rewriting some earlier chapters, too.

CHAPTER THREE: Elsewhere

Slaves were a noble's possessions. They, too, declared your status.

Because of that, even noble houses who did not need slaves bought them at high prices, because the more slaves you had, the better your status as nobility, they said. Nonsense, of course - thought Lia Deliha, clutching her arm painfully. Right there at the edge of her shoulder was a freshly carved mark that spelt a painful "B" - A "B" that marked her as the possession of the House of Beryl, forever.

It hurt. Not just the physical pain, but that mark bore into her soul. She fought to bite back the tears. A few years ago, at the very same place, the old House she used to belong to had marked a "V" there. Now, the faded scar still remains, but was completely overpowered by the red, angry "B" that succeeded its place.

That was another role of a slave's - to be sold, thrown from house to house, whenever the nobles felt like it. Still, she couldn't mope here forever. She had chores to do. Chores--

A guest must have arrived, as a few housemaids immediately gathered around the door. Lia stood, hidden, thinking. Who would visit at this time of the night? Certainly not one of the nobility - yet, the number of servants that have gathered definitely pointed to that. Was there something urgent-?

"I am here to speak to your mistress." A commanding, high-born voice of a noblewoman. One of the nobility, certainly - but why...? Lia peeked from behind the curtains, and saw a flurry of blue silk. There was a woman - a woman with long orange hair, dressed in a blue silk gown.

Wait, it can't be-?

Lia let the fabric of the curtains slide, and she plopped herself unbecomingly onto the floor beneath the window. After a while's wait, a servant's footsteps sounded at her door.

"Lia. Lia, hurry. Somebody is asking for you."

Lia nodded, swallowing, as she followed the servant silently to the door. There, she definitely saw her - Hanelle Deliha, her older sister, dressed in a blue silk gown like a member of the nobility, speaking in a dignified accent that Lia's never heard her use. Who was to think that the noblewoman at the door was supposed to be a slave girl? Everyone was completely fooled.

"... Will Lord Harold really...?" the mistress asked tentatively. Hanelle the lady surveyed her with watchful eyes, betraying not a single hint of fear of being caught.

"Do you doubt him? My uncle Harold will pay you tomorrow, certainly. For now, we have need of the slave girl - Deliha, her name is, isn't it?"

"Yes, Lady... Sorry, I didn't quite get your name."

"Heather," Hanelle lied through her teeth.

"Right. Lady Heather."

Lia felt giddy. Surely this must be a dream. After a few transactions, Lia was free - out of the house she was just branded a possession of a few hours ago, into the cold night air.

"Sis-" she began, but was cut off.

"We're running away, Lia," Hanelle whispered.

Whoops, thought that we're in 2010 for some reason.
Sorry for making you write something old. O_o

Since the only Amaranth Game I played is Ahriman's Prophecy, I skim through the Aveyond fanfics. Well... I'm more interested in original stories anyway.

As for Chapter Three...
It's nice to see a servant is able to fool people with a disguise of someone with more power.
Hm... Will Lia and Hanelle be successful in their escape? How?

Can't wait for the next chapter.

Nah, I need to thank you for reviving this. It brings back a certain fondness in my heart.

I'm glad that you're satisfied. =]

Oh this is very interesting! I love the story so far and your writing skills are amazing. Like MaskedHood said I wonder if they will escape more over what will happen when the nobles, who Lia worked for, find out they have been tricked? I'm eagerly waiting for the next chapter!