The morning sun rose slowly over the village of Ravin, spilling gold across rooftops and winding cobblestone streets. But beneath this peaceful light, a lingering unease hung thick in the air, like smoke from a dying fire — faint but unmistakable.
Lior sat at the edge of the village fountain, the cool water reflecting his restless gaze. His hands trembled slightly, the weight of what he had faced still pressing down on his chest. He traced the lines of a small scar on his palm, a mark he didn't remember getting but felt intimately tied to his own fractured past.
Mira approached quietly, settling beside him. Her eyes held a softness that momentarily eased the storm inside him.
"How do you feel?" she asked gently.
Lior looked up. "Like I'm still falling… like I'm chasing something I can't catch."
Mira nodded knowingly. "Dreams are like that. They pull you forward, even when you don't want to go."
Before he could respond, Rhéa appeared at the plaza entrance, her face pale but determined. "We don't have much time. The Bleeding One's reach is growing."
---
The three of them hurried back to the clocktower, where the black shard of glass lay on a velvet cloth, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"Last night," Rhéa said, voice steady, "I followed a trail of shadows outside the village. The corruption is spreading like a disease, infecting memories and twisting reality. If it reaches the village center, it could erase Ravin completely."
Lior's breath hitched. "Is there anything we can do to stop it?"
Mira exchanged a look with Rhéa. "Only if we understand it better. We need to see inside the Bleeding One's origins — where it came from, and why it exists."
Lior felt a chill creep up his spine. "Can we do that?"
Rhéa's eyes darkened. "We have to. But it means venturing deeper into the dreamscape — into places no dreamer has ever dared."
---
The air thickened as the clocktower's gears turned again, grinding and whirring to life. A swirling portal opened, wider this time, revealing a shadowed expanse beyond.
Lior, Mira, and Rhéa stepped through.
---
The world they entered was unlike anything they had seen before.
Endless plains of shifting mist stretched beneath an ink-black sky dotted with fragmented stars. Faint echoes of laughter and sorrow echoed on the wind, weaving through the tall, skeletal trees that seemed to pulse with a faint inner light.
"This is the Abyss of Forgotten Dreams," Rhéa whispered.
"It's where lost hopes and broken promises go to die," Mira added grimly.
Lior's heart pounded as they moved forward, the mist curling like smoke around their feet.
---
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
From the shadows emerged a figure — tall, cloaked in darkness, its face a void of swirling emptiness.
The Bleeding One.
Its voice was a rasping whisper that seemed to crawl into their minds.
"You cannot save what is broken. You cannot fight what is inevitable."
Lior stepped forward, gripping the shard of black glass.
"We're not giving up."
The creature laughed — a sound like bones grinding.
"Then you will join the forgotten."
---
As the battle began, shadows writhed like living serpents, wrapping around Lior's arms and legs. Pain lanced through him, but he held fast, focusing on the memories that kept him grounded: the faces of friends, the warmth of a mother's smile, the promise of a dawn yet to come.
With a surge of will, Lior raised the shard high. It glowed, cutting through the shadows like a beacon.
The Bleeding One shrieked, retreating into the darkness.
---
Breathing hard, Lior turned to Mira and Rhéa.
"We need to find Elara. She's the only one who can truly end this."
Rhéa nodded. "Then we must hurry. The dreamscape is unraveling faster than ever."
---
Back in the waking world, the village trembled again — but this time, a fragile hope glimmered on the horizon.
Lior clenched his fists.
"This ends with us."