They stepped forward together.
As soon as Fate crossed the edge of the doorway, the sphere in their hand warmed again. The light inside the opening spread, making the path clear enough to see but not bright enough to reveal everything at once.
The Dreamer followed close behind. The doorway stayed open just long enough for both of them to enter. Then, slowly, the light behind them dimmed, sealing off the meadow from view.
Inside, the air felt different—still, but not empty. Like the space was listening.
Fate held the glowing sphere out in front of them. It reacted, casting soft light onto the walls. The walls weren't stone or dirt; they looked like shifting patterns, as if the space was made of layered memories trying to form shapes.
The Dreamer touched one of the walls. Their fingers passed through it like touching mist. "This place isn't solid… it's made of something else."
Fate nodded. "Feels like a dream."
"Or many dreams mixed together," the Dreamer added.
