It began with a tremor beneath their feet — a subtle ripple, like a heartbeat beneath the earth.
The spire behind them continued to glow faintly, mended in part but unstable. And though the air around the Hollow Grove had calmed, the sky above now showed fractures — thin streaks of silver and shadow, like the skin of the world was beginning to peel away.
They had awakened something.
Or someone.
---
Soren stood shakily, supported by Lior and Rhéa. He looked up at the sky with quiet dread.
"The next shard… it's not in this world anymore," he said.
Mira narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he replied slowly, "it's been pulled into a dream that's begun to collapse — a world created by a Dreamer long ago, one that was forgotten even by the Veil itself. But now that we've reawakened the spire… it's bleeding through."
He pointed toward the eastern horizon. A jagged rift had formed there, glowing with golden mist, suspended midair.
"That is the breach. It leads into a fragment of dream — a world where time has no meaning, where memory and reality fight for control. The shard is in there."
---
"Then we go," said Lior, eyes burning with resolve.
But Soren raised a hand. "Be warned: If you lose yourself in that dream, it will consume you. There is no sky in there. No end. Just pieces of what once was… and what could have been."
Rhéa nodded grimly. "Dreams aren't always beautiful."
"Especially the ones that are trying to die," Soren said.
---
The Dream-World
Crossing the rift was like being submerged in liquid starlight. Their bodies became weightless, and for a moment, Lior felt like he was falling upward.
When he opened his eyes, they stood in a vast, endless field — not made of grass, but of feathers.
Above them floated a broken moon, surrounded by static stars. The air smelled of forgotten lullabies and burnt paper.
Buildings drifted in midair, upside down or sideways. A bridge stretched endlessly in one direction, but the ground under their feet changed with each step — sometimes dirt, sometimes tile, sometimes nothing.
And in the far distance: a tower made of mirrors, hovering atop a sea of clouds.
---
"That's where the shard is," Rhéa whispered. "I can feel it. But this place… it's wrong."
Mira drew her blades, cautious. "Too quiet."
And then… they heard it.
A child's laughter.
Soft. Innocent.
And very close.
---
They turned.
There, standing on a patch of floating earth, was a girl with white hair and eyes too big for her face. She was smiling.
"Hello," she said. "Are you here for the game?"
Lior hesitated. "Who are you?"
She tilted her head. "I'm Nobody. But I remember you. You're the boy who lost everything."
Lior's chest tightened.
She giggled. "Wanna play a game? If you win, you can have the shard. If you lose… you stay."
She snapped her fingers.
The dream twisted.
---
They were suddenly in a house — Lior's childhood home. The fire was already raging. The roof collapsing. Screams echoed from behind every door.
Lior stood alone in the flames.
"Come save me," the girl whispered from the hall.
He ran, crashing through burning doors, reliving the night over and over — but every time he reached the hallway, it lengthened. The girl's voice faded.
"You're too late… again…"
Lior dropped to his knees. "No… this isn't real…"
And then — a hand reached through the fire.
Mira. "Get up, idiot."
She pulled him through, and the flames dissolved into mist.
---
In another dream, Rhéa was trapped in an endless classroom, her hands tied by glowing chains. A voice whispered equations she couldn't solve, mocking her failures. She sobbed quietly, unable to move.
Soren burst through the chalkboard, his orb glowing fiercely, and shattered the illusion. "You're not weak," he told her. "You're more than your fears."
Each of them faced nightmares crafted perfectly for their deepest scars.
And each survived — until they reached the tower.
---
The mirrored tower was silent inside. A spiral staircase climbed endlessly, each step reflecting their face… slightly wrong.
At the top, on a floating dais, the next shard hovered — the Memory Shard. It pulsed with silver light, and its presence made their thoughts blur.
Lior stepped forward…
…but Mira raised a hand.
"Wait," she said.
Everyone froze.
And then — Soren vanished.
---
In his place stood a figure cloaked in gold and blue flame.
Not Noxis. Not a Wraithborn.
But a Dreamer.
His face was a blend of many — shifting, hard to focus on. His eyes, however, were fixed on Lior.
"You're closer than I expected," he said.
Lior stood his ground. "Who are you?"
The figure tilted his head. "You may call me Veylos. I was once the keeper of this shard… and the one who warned the Dreamers not to trust mortals."
His voice deepened. "You carry three shards. You are not ready for a fourth."
"I don't care," Lior said. "The world is breaking. We need them."
"Then take it," Veylos whispered. "But know this: every shard comes at a cost."
---
Veylos vanished in a swirl of light — and the shard dropped into Lior's palm.
A storm of memories surged into his mind — lives he had never lived. Friends he never had. A version of himself who had failed. Another who had ruled. A third who had died alone.
He collapsed, clutching his head.
"Lior!" Rhéa cried, rushing to his side.
But something was wrong.
Not with the shard.
With Mira.
She was staring at him, expression blank.
And in her palm… a second shard.
The Black shard.
---
"You shouldn't have taken it," she said coldly.
Lior froze. "What?"
Mira looked down, her voice suddenly distant. "He offered me a way out. A way to change everything. I didn't believe him at first."
Soren stepped from the shadows, limping, breath shallow. "No…"
"But now I see," Mira said. "This world can't be saved. It has to be rewritten."
She turned away.
And vanished into the dream.
---
Lior stood stunned.
"Mira…?"
But she was gone.
With a shard.