I didn't move at first.
The stone under my hand had gone cold. Still solid. Still rough. But the hum was gone. Whatever it had started, it was done with me.
I stepped back.
The village didn't vanish. Didn't melt, glitch, or collapse into stardust. It just… stayed.
Perfectly still.
Perfectly real.
"That's fine," I muttered. "I didn't need reality to make sense anyway."
The creek still ran beside me. Water moving fast over smooth stone. A little footbridge arched across it like a postcard sketch.
I crossed it slowly, eyeing everything like it might vanish the moment I blinked.
Halfway across, I paused and leaned down.
The water looked cold.
I touched it anyway, dipped my fingers in.
"Yep. That's freezing. Definitely not a hallucination."
I pulled my hand out. Still wet. Still stinging a little.
'Great.'
I made it to the far side and headed for the nearest house. Small. Stone base, wood frame. Door slightly crooked, like the whole place leaned a little.
I knocked.
Nothing.
"Shocking," I said. "In a fantasy village built itself out of light and trauma, and no one's home."
I tried the handle. It turned.
Inside was a table, two chairs, and a small hearth with a soot-blackened pot hanging above it.
I walked in. Dust floated in the light.
I touched the pot.
Still warm.
'Of course it is.'
I checked the shelves. A folded towel. No food. One spoon. No traps. No bloodstains. Weirdly disappointing.
I walked back out and looked up.
The sky hadn't moved. Stars were still locked in place like someone glued them to the glass dome of a snow globe.
I gave them a small wave. "Thanks for watching. You're doing great."
Nothing answered. Good.
I kept going.
I found a well. The crank groaned like it hadn't been used in years—which made no sense, since everything else looked like someone had just stepped out for lunch.
I dropped the bucket. Heard it splash. Reeled it up.
Water. Clear. Real.
I drank.
'…Fantastic. The magical void has plumbing.'
I set the bucket down and rubbed the back of my neck.
The silence pressed in again. Too thick. Too clean.
I started walking.
Not toward anything—just away from the well. From the hum that still lingered somewhere beneath my skin. My boots left faint marks in the dirt, the only proof I was moving forward. The village around me didn't shift. Didn't breathe. Just stood there like a painting waiting to be ruined.
I passed a workshop. Or maybe it was once one. The windows were soot-smeared. One of the shutters hung sideways on a single hinge. Inside: dust, a warped chair, a workbench with rusted tools laid out like they'd been abandoned mid-thought.
None of it felt haunted. Just paused.
I touched the edge of the doorway, half-expecting it to flinch.
"Still real," I murmured. "Still here."
I kept walking.
Passed a twisted tree at the edge of the village. Black bark. No leaves. Its shadow didn't match the angle of the light.
That stopped me.
I stared at it for a long second. The light didn't move. The shadow didn't shift. I took a cautious step closer.
The shadow flickered.
Just once.
I stepped back.
"Okay," i said, backing away slowly, "we're skipping the cursed tree subplot."
I turned and walked fast.
Too fast.
My thoughts chased me—louder now. Not full memories, but echoes. Things I hadn't unpacked since waking. That hand in my chest. That static-smile. The fact that I hadn't screamed when I saw her, but I had screamed in the hallway dream.
The way the stars didn't blink.
The way the dirt didn't settle after I stepped.
I stopped walking.
Took a breath.
My hand was still damp.
I looked at the houses. At the still-smoking chimneys. At the prints I left in the dirt when I walked.
Nothing here was fading. Nothing cracked apart when I touched it. No illusions. No seams.
"Alright," I said, louder this time. "So it's real. This is all real. And I'm still here. Talking to myself. In a medieval ghost village. After getting stabbed by a woman who doesn't believe in shoes."
I went back to the well and sat on the edge. Letting out a long breath.
No wind. No birds. Just the stream, the stone, and my voice echoing back at me like it was thinking about answering and decided against it.
"Cool," I said. "Totally normal breakdown. Ten out of ten."
I stared at the dirt for a minute. Then I sighed and pushed myself up.
Because sitting there forever didn't seem like a real option.
I wandered deeper into the village.
No layout. No signs. Just buildings arranged in quiet logic—stone, timber, thatched, slate. I dragged my hand along one wall, mostly to prove I could. It scraped my fingers like brick should.
Real. Still real. Unfortunately.
Past a stable with no horses.
Past a bakery with no bread.
The chimney puffed politely, though, like it was really trying.
'A for effort.'
I stopped near a small square—a dry fountain in the center. No statue. Just a basin. Empty. Decorative in the way a pothole is decorative.
I was about to mutter something bitter when I heard it.
A sound.
Distant at first. Garbled. Then sharper.
A voice. Somewhere above.
"—NO—NO—NO—WAIT—NO
NO NO NO—"
I looked up.
The stars were still frozen in place. But something was moving between them. Fast. Tumbling.
Screaming.
"HELLOOOOO—OH SHIT—SOMEONE—HELP—!"
I squinted. A shape. Thin limbs. Hair flailing. A person?
'The fuck is that?'
I couldn't make out who or what was falling, but one thing for sure was that it was coming down hard.
Closer.
Louder.
"I DON'T WANNA DIE I DON'T WANNA DIE—HEY—YOU—DOWN THERE—YES YOU—PLEASE CATCH MEEEEE—!"
I blinked and took a slow, instinctive step back. "You've gotta be kidding me."
There was no doubt in my mind now that what was falling towards me was a girl, dropping out of the sky.
'Wait…can I call it a sky?'
"CATCH MEEEEEEEEE—!"
She was falling—rapidly. Arms flailing. Voice climbing. It was less like divine descent and more like someone had been shoved off a cosmic balcony.
My hands shot up on pure reflex. "I am not qualified for this!"
Too late.
She crashed into me with full velocity.
There was no graceful landing. No soft collapse.
Just impact.
The ground beneath us cracked—dirt exploding outward, a thunderous jolt as the air seemed to compress. We hit hard enough to leave a shallow crater, like something out of a bad action movie.
I couldn't breathe for a second. Couldn't think.
Dust swirled in slow spirals around us as the sound settled.
I was flat on my back, half-buried in fractured dirt and pain.
I groaned. "Well. That could've gone better."
"Ow—ow—my everything," she whimpered from somewhere near my shoulder. "Did you miss?!"
"I didn't sign up for the catching part, okay? I just live here now," I groaned.
"Next time, aim for the empty part of the village."