Arsh arrived home earlier than usual, his mind buzzing with excitement. His latest project had just been approved by the organization—a monumental achievement. If it succeeded, it would change everything.
He was no ordinary man. A high-ranking member of a powerful, enigmatic crime syndicate, he was an engineer, an inventor of cutting-edge technology, and a skilled MMA fighter. While others in the underworld dealt in weapons, gold, and drugs, his syndicate thrived on something far greater—control. Their wealth and influence bent laws, dictated markets, and shaped nations. And at the center of it all was him—the mastermind behind their technological supremacy.
Stepping into his grand mansion, he gave his usual orders to the servants before heading to his private quarters. Exhaustion clung to his body, the result of countless sleepless nights spent perfecting his plan. A hot bath helped ease some of the tension in his muscles, but not the weight pressing on his mind.
Dinner was quiet. He had no family—never did. The syndicate had raised him, molded him into the man he was today. Now in his thirties, he had given his prime years to their cause.
After eating, he retreated to his bedroom. As he entered, his gaze landed on the large mirror across the room. Dressed in loose pajamas, he studied his reflection.
A six-foot-tall man with a lean build stared back at him. His sharp features, once full of vitality, were now dulled by years of relentless work. The dark circles beneath his eyes told the story of his sleepless nights.
He frowned. Because of this project, I neglected my training… My body feels weak.
Shaking his head, he turned off the lights and lay down. Sleep took him almost instantly.
---
A vast, endless void surrounded him.
Arsh found himself standing alone in the abyss, an unsettling silence pressing against his senses. He started walking, searching for something—anything.
Time lost meaning. Minutes, hours, days… he couldn't tell. Then, in the distance, a soft glow flickered in the darkness.
He moved toward it.
As he drew closer, the light revealed itself to be a tree—an ethereal tree made entirely of light. It had no leaves, only luminous branches stretching endlessly toward a sky that did not exist.
Beneath the tree stood a woman.
She was breathtaking, more beautiful than anyone he had ever seen, yet her face was streaked with silent tears. Her sorrow felt almost tangible, as if the very air around her carried the weight of her grief.
Without thinking, he stepped forward. His hand reached out, resting gently on her shoulder.
And then, before he could stop himself, a single word escaped his lips.
"Mother."
The woman turned. Her eyes, filled with immeasurable sorrow, locked onto his.
In the next instant, she pulled him into an embrace.
Warmth enveloped him—not the warmth of fire, nor the heat of the sun. It was something deeper, something irreplaceable. A warmth he had never known in his waking life. It filled the emptiness in his soul, soothing a pain he didn't even realize he carried.
He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the feeling.
And then—
---
Arsh jolted awake, his breathing uneven.
His body felt strangely light, as if that warmth from his dream still lingered. He reached for the glass of water on his bedside table and drank deeply before rubbing his temples.
"That dream again…" he muttered.
He had been having the same dream since childhood. No matter how much time passed, it never changed.
And yet, every time, he woke up with that same strange, irreplaceable warmth. A feeling that belonged only in his dreams, never in reality.
He glanced at the clock. 2:00 AM.
"Great," he sighed. "I have to wake up early for the meeting with the elders tomorrow…"
Closing his eyes, he let out a slow breath.
This time, he hoped for a dreamless sleep.
—