The world had gone quiet again.
No screams, no echoes — just stillness.
The ground beneath Ethan's feet gleamed faintly, like black glass dipped in light. It stretched on forever, bending at the edges of sight, as though they stood inside the reflection of a forgotten world. Above, the sky pulsed with faint static veins, the remnants of the storm that had torn reality apart.
Dogger stood across from him, arms folded, his reflection slightly out of sync. "This place," he said, his voice calm but sharp, "is what you make it."
Ethan frowned, glancing around. "You mean like imagination?"
Dogger shook his head. "No. Like belief. Here, anything is achievable — if you know it's not real. The law of physics, logic, pain…" He snapped his fingers; a ripple spread through the floor, distorting everything like heat. "All of it bends if your mind does."
Ethan muttered, "Yeah, easier said than done."
Dogger smirked. "Then let's teach your mind some obedience."
He shifted his weight, dropped into a stance and the air shimmered. One moment he was standing still; the next, he was everywhere. His body moved in impossible motion — twisting midair, spinning like a ghost through gravity itself. Each leap left faint trails of static, the sound of glitching light.
Ethan blinked, trying to follow. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Dogger landed lightly, dusting his hands. "Your turn."
Ethan took a breath, crouched slightly, and jumped. For a moment, it worked, his body lifted, twisting like he remembered from Dogger's motion but midway through, his focus broke. He hit the ground with a dull thud.
Dogger chuckled. "Not bad for a rookie."
He stepped forward, extended a hand and as soon as Ethan took it, Dogger's other hand tapped his chest.
A pulse hit like thunder. Ethan stumbled back, gasping, his chest burning with phantom impact.
He coughed for air. "What… was that?"
Dogger laughed, his glitching outline flickering like static around a candle. "And I thought you were a soldier in your old life."
Ethan froze. "What?"
Dogger tilted his head. "You didn't know?"
Ethan's voice came low. "About that… I saw someone during the fight with the Warden. A woman. I don't know her, but I knew her name."
That got Dogger's attention. "Go on."
Ethan hesitated. "I've always had this dream of being a soldier. On a mission to save a kid. It always ends horribly. Every time."
He looked away. "What does that mean?"
Dogger walked in a slow circle around him, the hum of static following his voice. "It means your memories are leaking through. They come back as dreams first. Or…" He paused, studying Ethan. "Maybe that's what woke you from your sleep."
Ethan's expression darkened — confusion, fear, a flicker of realization.
Without warning, Dogger kicked. Ethan barely raised his arm to block, pain searing through his forearm.
"The woman you saw…" Dogger said, throwing a rapid series of punches, his voice steady through every strike. "She might be your anchor."
Ethan stumbled backward. "Slow down!"
Dogger didn't. His movements became a blur of motion and light. He twisted in the air, a flawless, impossible spin and his heel connected hard with Ethan's shoulder.
Ethan hit the ground, breath knocked out of him. His anger surged like a pulse in his blood.
The air changed.
Crackles of static formed around his fist — a storm gathering at his fingertips. He didn't think. He swung.
A wave erupted — a burst of wind and energy shaped like a colossal, transparent hand.
Dogger darted sideways in a flicker of glitching light, the impact hitting the ground instead — sending shards of energy tearing upward.
Ethan fell to one knee, panting, chest heaving.
Dogger landed a few meters away, grinning. "Now that," he said, wiping a line of static from his cheek, "was impressive."
Ethan groaned. "You're too fast."
Dogger chuckled, walking closer. "And you're too emotional. Control that, or you'll keep breaking the weather."
Ethan shot him a look, half tired, half amused. "You're a terrible teacher."
Dogger shrugged. "I'm still learning how to be real."
The silence that followed hummed faintly like the dream itself was breathing with them.
Dogger turned, his outline flickering against the static air. "Tomorrow, we stop fighting dreams. We start shaping them."
Ethan watched him fade into the haze, the words echoing softly in his mind.
"Shape the dream, huh…"
He looked up at the sky pale, fractured, endlessly vast,
and for the first time, the cracks didn't scare him.
They looked like possibility.