In Brando's field of vision, countless fragments began appearing in the darkness, each radiating dazzling colors. They looked like reflective shards of glass scattered through the dark, or like mirrors reflecting different scenes. Some showed things he had experienced before, while others were unfamiliar. The scenes kept appearing and vanishing along with the flashing fragments.
Until a solid Gate of Light appeared before him.
It was a larger fragment, shaped like a glowing door. Brando stared inside. Beyond that radiant door seemed to lie another world:
It was a courtyard intoxicated by a slightly tipsy breeze, with carved beams and pillars, flowers winding everywhere, and soft singing drifting through the air. Ivory-white colonnades disappeared beneath the shade of the trees. The scene gave off a faint glow, like a painting of time passing, as though eternal spring still lingered within a dream.
Brando saw rows of armored guards, their silver scales glittering as they held long halberds. Pointed silver watch helmets swayed and interlocked with one another. Sharp ears protruded from behind their bright silver visors, while long silver hair fell down over their backs like tassels.
At that moment, he suddenly heard a voice speak beside his ear. "Why do you always enjoy peeking into other people's inner worlds? Could the king foretold in the prophecy really be someone like you?"
It was a woman's voice, slightly husky, deep and steady. It reminded him of the elves' moonlight wine—aged, mellow, and intoxicating.
Brando was slightly startled. He tried to look around, only to realize that he could not move. Yet the prolonged darkness had sharpened his other senses. His memory and imagination had also become richer. The voice echoed in his mind for a moment before he identified its impossible owner: someone who should have died long ago.
"White?"