🌌 Chapter Six: The Dream That Smolders
__________________________________________________________________________________-The trees stood like monuments—tall, ancient, and motionless beneath a clouded sky. Their massive trunks cast shadows across the undergrowth, a dark cathedral of moss and bark where even the wind refused to speak.
Steel cables snapped through the air.
"Squad Three, break off to the north flank!"
Five groups split from the main column, their horses galloping through brush and snow, each pair of soldiers branching off with perfect, practiced formation. The middle team took the center path, chasing the lone Titan ahead. A naked, hulking thing. Mindless. Hungry.
A trap.
Two decoy groups veered wide. The rest ascended—ODM gear hissed as they launched skyward, blades drawn.
"Target is isolated!"
The wind whipped past their hoods, gear thrumming against flesh and metal alike. The Commander's voice echoed one final command.
"Engage!"
...
Mikasa stood in the fog.
Her hair was shorter. Her eyes were tired. She was older. Too old.
"I'll see you soon," she whispered.
She turned. Walked away.
"Wait," Eren said, reaching out. "Where are you going?"
She didn't answer.
She disappeared into the white.
"Eren."
A hand on his shoulder.
"Eren. Wake up."
...
He blinked. The ceiling of their shared room came into focus, sunlight cutting clean lines across the wooden boards.
Mikasa stood above him, scarf wrapped neatly, her expression unreadable.
"You were crying."
"I… huh?"
She handed him his shirt, then turned to leave.
"You were crying in your sleep," she said again, softly. "Breakfast is almost ready."
Eren sat up slowly.
The dream lingered like smoke in his chest—aching, vague. He wiped at his face. Damp. She was right.
Why had he been crying?
The streets of Shiganshina were quiet that morning. Still waking. Dust caught the breeze as a few carts rolled past the narrow alleys, and an old man swept his steps with practiced boredom.
Eren and Mikasa walked side by side.
Kaelen had left early with Grisha—some kind of errand, or research. It didn't matter. He came and went. Reliable, distant, quiet. The opposite of Eren.
They passed the baker. Then the smith. Then the idle Garrison post.
"Are you still mad about yesterday?" Eren asked.
"I'm not mad."
"You threw me against a wall."
"You were yelling."
"You were breathing."
Mikasa glanced at him. "Do you still want to join the Survey Corps?"
Eren didn't answer.
He looked up at the sky.
They turned the corner.
Hannes stood at his post, bottle in hand, cheeks red.
He smiled when he saw them. "Oi! You two are up early."
Eren scowled. "You're drinking again?"
"It's watered down."
"It's nine in the morning!"
"And the Titans haven't shown up once. A toast to peace, eh?"
"You're supposed to be guarding the Walls, not toasting to them!"
Hannes shrugged. "No breaches in a hundred years, kid. You think it's gonna start today?"
"That's the kind of thinking that'll get people killed."
Mikasa placed a hand on Eren's shoulder.
He pulled away, mumbling. "Let's just go."
They moved on.
Behind them, Hannes laughed. The sound echoed off the stone.
...
Eren kicked at a loose stone on the path.
"People are pathetic," he muttered. "They're happy like this. Trapped. Drunk. Laughing while the world rots behind stone."
"They're afraid," Mikasa said.
"So? Being afraid doesn't mean you should stop fighting."
"They've forgotten how."
"I'll remind them."
Suddenly, the distant sound of hoofbeats.
Eren's head snapped up.
A signal horn.
Then another.
"...They're back."
...
They ran to the main gate.
A small crowd had already gathered.
The soldiers returned slowly—half the formation missing, the rest bloodied and broken. One horse was riderless. Another dragged a limp body barely tied to the saddle.
Eren's excitement collapsed in his chest.
These weren't heroes.
They were ghosts returning from hell.
A woman pushed forward, screaming. "Braun?! Where's Braun?!"
One soldier—too young—handed her a severed arm.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The woman collapsed, wailing. No one moved.
The Commander stepped forward.
"Another failure," he said, barely above a whisper. "We… we learned nothing."
A bitter murmur rose through the crowd.
"What's the point?"
"Just send pigs next time!"
"Why are we funding this?!"
"Idiots! All of them!"
Eren clenched his fists.
"They're all cowards," he hissed.
Mikasa grabbed his sleeve. "Eren. Stop."
"No. They're spitting on them. On the people who died for them."
He stepped forward.
Mikasa grabbed his collar and slammed him against a wall.
"Do you still want to join them?" she said, voice low, teeth clenched. "Do you want to come back like that? Do you want me to be the one who picks up your arm?"
Eren stared at her.
Then… lowered his gaze.
"I'm going to pick up the firewood. Kaelen left with Dad, so it's on us now."
Mikasa's grip loosened.
Eren turned and walked toward the edge of the crowd.
She watched him go.
And for the first time that day, didn't know what to say.
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[Auther: On the slow trail that'll lead you to the end, we finally make progress.]