The Dreambinder pierced Seth's chest, releasing a brilliant shockwave of golden light that radiated through the collapsing dreamscape. The energy surged outward like a tidal wave, dissolving the nightmare constructs in its wake.
Seth let out a scream—no, a howl—as the light tore through him. His body began to unravel, threads of shadow peeling away, revealing the fractured soul beneath. His once-commanding figure flickered and shrank, disintegrating into particles of darkness that scattered into the void. The twisted realm he'd shaped with his mind crumbled around him—mountains shattered, skies folded in on themselves, rivers flowed backward and vanished into nothingness.
The battlefield trembled violently. Then... stillness.
Rey gasped for air, dropping to one knee as the oppressive weight of Seth's presence lifted. The darkness was gone. The sky overhead cleared, revealing a boundless stretch of stars and the pale glow of a rising sun breaking through the once-corrupted clouds.
Reality had returned.
The nightmare was over.
Elsa, standing not far behind, exhaled sharply, her body trembling with relief. "We did it," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Gabriel closed his eyes, his staff glowing faintly as the last traces of corrupted dream magic faded. "The war is over," he murmured.
But Rey remained still, staring at the fading light where Seth had stood. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword, knuckles white. Deep within him, he knew—the darkness never truly dies. It only sleeps, waiting for the next vulnerable mind, the next whisper of doubt.
Seth was gone...
But for how long?
A World Restored
The underground city echoed with cheers and laughter, a sound it had not heard in many years. The once-silent streets bustled with life as families emerged from hiding, holding one another and marveling at the sunlight piercing through the broken ceilings above. Children ran through the alleys, touching walls that no longer pulsed with dread. Artisans reopened shuttered shops, and the great chimes of the temple rang once again.
Rey stood quietly at the edge of the city, atop a ledge overlooking the square. From here, he could see the rebuilding, the celebration, the healing.
Elsa approached, her armor battered but her expression light. She stood beside him, silent for a moment, then asked, "What's next for you?"
Rey's eyes didn't leave the sky. "I still have to find my home," he said softly. "I still have to find my parents."
Elsa nodded slowly. Then she reached into her pouch and pulled out a thin, silver band with a glowing rune etched into it. "Hey, Rey."
He turned to her. "What?"
"Take this." She held it out.
Rey took it, inspecting the runes curiously. "What should I use it for?"
"It's an artifact," Elsa explained, a gentle smile on her lips. "If you ever need help—or just want to talk—you can reach me through it. No matter where you are."
A rare smile touched Rey's lips. "Thank you."
With that, he fastened the band around his wrist, tightening it with care. It pulsed once, a faint light running through the metal.
Elsa stepped back, watching him. "Go find your home, Rey. But remember, you're not alone anymore."
The morning sun stretched its golden fingers over the horizon as Rey stood at the edge of a small village—the one he had just saved from the remnants of the nightmare. Smoke still curled into the sky from scattered fires, and the smell of ash lingered. But the people were alive. Busy. Laughing. Rebuilding.
Rey took one final look at them—the blacksmith hammering metal into a new gate, children sweeping ash from the steps of the inn, a woman planting new flowers beside her door.
Then, the elder approached. He was a stooped man, his silver hair gleaming in the sunlight, his eyes wise and weathered.
"You've done more than we could have ever asked," the elder said, placing a hand on Rey's shoulder. "But I can see it in your eyes—you have another journey ahead of you."
Rey nodded solemnly. "My home… I need to find it. I need to know if my parents are still out there."
The elder gave a warm, knowing smile. He handed Rey a small, cloth-wrapped bundle. "Food for the road. Wherever your journey takes you, may the stars guide your path."
Rey accepted it with quiet gratitude.
With one last look over his shoulder—at the people, the city, and the friends he had fought beside—Rey slung his pack over his shoulder, adjusted the sword at his side, and stepped forward.
Toward the unknown.
Toward the road ahead.
Toward home.