Maxi stood alone in an endless void.
A vast, stretching nothingness surrounded him, swallowing everything in perfect black.
He walked.
And walked.
Miles.
Years.
Eternities.
Then—at last—a light.
Faint and distant, like a flickering candle in an abyss. He stepped toward it, his feet making no sound in the silent void.
As he approached, a shape emerged within the light's glow—an old, prestigious coffee table.
Atop the table lay a book.
Something about it called to him.
The closer he walked, the clearer it became.
A symbol—etched onto the book's cover—glowed faintly, pulsing as if it were alive.
Maxi's breath hitched.
He reached out.
Then—
GRIP.
Something cold wrapped around his ankle.
He froze.
Slowly, his gaze dropped.
A hand, its form swallowed by writhing shadows, clutched his leg.
Then another.
And another.
They emerged from the void, grasping, pulling—strong, unyielding.
But Maxi did not panic.
He had seen this before.
A thousand times.
A million times.
With calm determination, he fought to move forward, straining toward the book. The light.
Another hand.
Then another.
They gripped his arms, his waist, his throat—
One covered his mouth.
then he pulled into the void with one big yank of all the arms, causing him to fly up in the air slightly
The void swallowed him whole.
Darkness.
Nothingness.
Then—
GASP.
Maxi awoke, his chest rising and falling in deep, measured breaths.
He did not scream.
He did not tremble.
Instead, he sighed and sat up, raking a hand through his messy hair as he calmed himself down.
The dream was… strange.
But no stranger than his own existence.
He slid out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. The cool water of the shower grounded him, washing away the lingering weight of the nightmare.
Once dressed in a white undershirt, black waistcoat, and long black pants, he went to find his glasses—only to realize he must have left them in the training grounds.
With a tired sigh, he lay back on his bed.
But as he turned his head—
There they were.
Resting neatly on his bedside table.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Mother.
She must have retrieved them for him.
A silent thank you passed through his mind as he slipped the glasses onto his face.
Then, pushing the dream aside, he moved to his bookshelf in the corner of the room. He scanned the spines, fingers trailing over old pages until he settled on a familiar title—
"Tales of Magic and Circus Magicians."
With the book in hand, Maxi returned to bed and began to read.
Minutes turned to hours.
Then—
Knock. Knock.
A voice, soft and hesitant, called through the door.
"Young… master Maxi."
His maid.
Maxi's gaze lifted from the book.
The dream was already fading.
But something told him…
It wouldn't be the last time.