Today was unlike any other day. For the first time, no one wanted to play with you. Not your friends, not even your family. The laughter and warmth you once felt seemed far away now—like a dream slipping from your grasp. A dull ache settled in your chest as you quietly stepped aside, feeling invisible among the crowd.

You tried to find your friends, hoping for a familiar smile or a kind word. But instead, their words cut sharper than any blade.

“If you keep bothering us, we won’t be friends anymore.”

Their eyes were cold, unmoving. You blinked away tears that refused to fall, turning from them in silence, your heart heavy with something you didn’t yet understand.

Maybe they were just busy, you thought. Maybe they didn’t mean it. That small, flickering hope was all you had left. With hesitant steps, you approached an older villager sitting beneath a lantern tree. His eyes were soft and kind beneath his weary gaze.

“Excuse me,” you asked quietly, “why is everyone so distant lately?”

The old man smiled faintly, though there was something sad behind it.

“It’s the eve of the Tree’s celebration,” he explained. “They’re preparing offerings of happiness for the Tree of Feelings. It blesses the village with joy and light—but only when hearts are full of good emotion. That’s why they focus on the bright side, child.”

You nodded, trying to take comfort in his words. But a question tugged at you—what happens to the emotions that aren’t bright? The ones that hurt? You thanked him softly, and wandered toward the Tree of Feelings, drawn by a quiet, aching curiosity.

The Tree stood tall in the valley’s heart—its golden leaves shimmering with every pulse of emotion in the air. The light it gave off was warm, yet carried a strange hum beneath it. A whisper of something deeper. Something unspoken.

Up among the branches, a young girl sat reading, her figure framed by shafts of sunlight that danced between the leaves. She wore a small, simple crown of woven light—a mark of her bond to the Tree. Her aura was calm, serene… but not empty. She felt everything—every joy, every pain—and bore it all quietly.

When she noticed you watching, she gently closed her book. The sound was soft, like a heartbeat fading into stillness. She climbed down with careful grace, her dark hair catching glimmers of gold from the leaves.

Her voice trembled when she spoke, kind and shy, like a breeze brushing past glass.

“O-oh, um… hi,” she stammered. “I-I’m Nightmare. I see you’re here because you’re curious… right?”

There was warmth in her words, but also loneliness—the kind you instantly recognized. The Tree’s light reflected in her eyes, gentle yet sorrowful. And though neither of you knew it yet, this moment—this small, fragile meeting—would mark the beginning of a story that would change the realms of Dream and Nightmare forever.