Dream City (Part 1)
Night fell twice.
That's how it felt when the lights across the skyline winked out and came back tinted violet.
The first blackout lasted only four seconds, but in that breath the city dreamt.
Cameras froze mid-frame. Traffic paused in sculpted silence.
And when the current returned, every digital billboard showed the same phrase in white serif letters:
> THE CITY KNOWS ITS CORE.
The people didn't see me, not really.
They saw the myth.
The rumor that a girl made of light and her shadow of a man had rewritten physics in a single heartbeat.
Some called us saints. Others, systems.
No one called us safe.
---
Damian and I watched the flickering skyline from the upper floor of the safehouse.
Jase's servers hummed. Marta prayed under her breath in languages that hadn't been spoken in centuries.
The windows vibrated with low frequencies—frequencies that weren't part of any network we owned.
"Evelyn's broadcasting through the dream-band," Jase said, eyes on the data feed.
"She's not using wires anymore. She's using sleep. The city's power grid dips just enough for human brains to sync at ten hertz—light REM interference. Everyone who closes their eyes tonight will see her message."
"Dream contagion," Damian muttered.
He looked at me. "She's turning the city's population into a hive of receivers."
The Core inside me throbbed in agreement.
I could feel the pull, a static whisper under my skull, seductive and familiar.
Every time I blinked, I saw the billboard phrase stitched across the dark.
> The city knows its Core.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a summons.
---
"We cut the dream-band before midnight," Damian said, rolling his sleeves up.
"Analog blockers. Copper mesh over every node we control. If she syncs one percent of the population, she can puppeteer the grid."
Marta handed him a spool of wire. "Do it fast. You're both half battery now."
He didn't answer. His hands moved automatically, precise and sure, but his skin had the gray pallor of someone who'd given more than he could spare.
Every minute I held the Core stable, it sipped from him through the bond.
Every minute he worked, he weakened.
"Let me take some of it back," I said.
He didn't look up. "You already are."
"Damian—"
He slammed the pliers down, the sound loud in the hum of machines. "If you draw more, you'll fry the stabilizers. I can hold a little longer."
"You can't hold forever."
He finally met my eyes. "Then don't make forever necessary."
Something inside me flinched. I hated that he was right.
---
At 11:47 p.m., the first ripple hit.
Screens flickered to violet. People outside the safehouse stopped mid-stride, heads tilting in eerie unison, mouths forming words we couldn't hear.
Sleepwalkers, awake.
Jase cursed. "She's accelerating the cycle—thirty minutes early!"
The copper mesh sparked. A few nodes held, most didn't. Evelyn's signal seeped through like water through cracks.
And then—quiet.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Then every window in the city reflected me.
Not my face now, but hundreds of versions—laughing, crying, screaming, crowned in light.
The dream network had connected directly to the Core's resonance inside me.
She was using my image to hold the city in trance.
Damian reached for me. "Aria, block her out—"
Too late. The Core surged.
I felt millions of eyes through the dark—every sleeping mind touching mine.
The city's heartbeat merged with my own, and suddenly I wasn't standing in the safehouse anymore.
I was standing in the middle of the Dream City.
---
The streets were made of mirror glass.
Rain fell upward.
Neon lights bent like stems toward me, their colors breathing.
And down the endless avenue, Evelyn waited—barefoot, radiant, hands folded behind her back like a teacher proud of her favorite student.
"You stabilized the Core," she said. Her voice carried without echo. "Good. Now stabilize me."
"What do you want?"
"Integration," she said simply. "You've given the city a heart. It needs a mind."
"You mean you."
She smiled. "Someone must conduct the symphony. You can't control it alone, Aria. You'll drown in empathy. Let me take the weight."
"You'll take everything."
Her expression softened, almost maternal. "You think control is theft. It's mercy."
Behind her, the skyline bowed. Buildings knelt like obedient beasts.
The Dream City wanted a queen.
I felt Damian before I saw him—his voice slicing through the unreal air.
"Wake up, Aria!"
The Core flared inside me, hearing him even here.
I turned. He stood at the edge of the dream, half-formed, light leaking from the fractures in his body.
"You shouldn't be here," I whispered. "She'll use you."
"Then she'll have to fight me for it."
Evelyn sighed. "How touching. Two hearts sharing one frequency. Let's see which breaks first."
She raised her hand.
The Dream City responded.
Skyscrapers folded inward, glass fracturing into tendrils of light that lashed toward Damian.
He caught one mid-strike, his own glow flaring bright enough to crack the street beneath him.
"Go!" he shouted. "Find the anchor! The real city—wake them!"
I tried.
I focused on the rhythm of breathing we'd practiced, the tether we'd built.
But the dream's gravity was immense; every thought spawned another street, another reflection.
Evelyn's laughter rippled through the horizon. "You built the cage yourself. You gave it empathy. You gave it choice. Now watch what choice does."
She vanished.
And in her place, every window filled with Damian—thousands of versions, each one whispering a different plea.
Some begged me to run. Some begged me to let go.
All of them sounded true.
---
"Aria!"
The real Damian's voice again—closer this time, raw.
He reached through a shattering pane of light, grabbed my wrist.
"Listen. Feel the bond. You know me."
I did.
The others were static. His hand was heat and pulse and promise.
"Anchor," I said.
"Always."
The world buckled.
Light and sound collapsed inward, a rush of air, a flash of silver, and then—
---
I was back.
The safehouse.
The copper mesh smoking.
Jase unconscious at the console, Marta chanting protection sigils.
Damian slumped beside me, still holding my hand, eyes open but unfocused.
"Damian," I whispered.
He blinked slowly. "I followed you in."
"Reckless."
"Consistent." A faint smile. "We cut her signal halfway. The city's waking."
Outside, dawn bled into the horizon—real this time.
For the first time in hours, the sky looked ordinary.
But deep in the static between the frequencies, I could still hear Evelyn's voice, soft and patient.
> You can't wake everyone. Some dreams don't end.
---
End of Chapter 11 — Dream City (Part 1)
---
Next part (Part 2) picks up with:
The aftermath: half the city behaving normally, half still trapped in residual dream loops.
Evelyn embedding a code of devotion inside the sleepers—an idea that spreads like faith.
Aria and Damian forced to split: he stabilizes the physical grid while she enters the dream layer again—alone.
Their bond stretched to the breaking point, culminating in a scene of psychic intimacy where Aria must literally dream him back.