[Scene 1: The Descent and the Horrifying Truth]
The collapse of the Weighted Blanket Fort was a gift wrapped in absurdity. Below the sticky, ruptured surface of the Marshmallow Mire, the carved stone passage offered solid, if temporary, sanctuary.
Astrid, her suit ruined and her logic circuits shorting from the illogical sight of the melted drone debris, used her tablet's remaining power to illuminate the descent. Her voice was strained, the sarcasm replaced by sheer, professional terror. "This is a dimensional anchor. It's using Leo's memory of the real drone to tether a piece of our reality here. This isn't just a dream, Vance; this is a psychological trap made physical."
Leo, exhausted but sobered by the cold stone, ran his hand over the drone's crumpled frame—a relic of his comfortable past. His empathy surged. He wasn't just saving himself; he was protecting his friends from having their realities cannibalized. "The Whisper King knew I wouldn't move for a prophecy," he muttered, pushing himself forward with effort. "But I'll move for them."
Tank, surprisingly gentle, helped Lulu wipe sticky residue from her mini instant camera. "Let's smash AND grab! I say we smash this tunnel open and grab that carnival prize!"
"No, Tank," Leo corrected, a new, weary command in his voice. "We stop moving, analyze the threat, and then we move in the most strategically lazy way possible. We need a base. Dr. Rook said there was a sanctuary near the Metro lines."
[Scene 2: The Dream Weaver Sanctuary]
The passage led them into a vast, carved chamber that smelled faintly of incense and strong herbal tea. This was the Dream Weaver Sanctuary, a hidden staging ground where reality held firmer. Dr. Sylvia Rook was already there, calmly brewing a new pot of tea, the Naptime Gavel resting nearby. Lys Delmar stood before a shimmering wall that served as a massive data screen.
"Welcome," Dr. Rook said, pouring tea without turning around. "You are officially designated Team Sloth—Protocol requires a working title. Lulu, your camera is now officially designated as a high-value photographic record asset."
Lulu beamed. "Let's snapshot this!"
Astrid, recovering her logical footing, immediately confronted Tank. "Hayes, your impulsivity in the Mire nearly compromised the entire mission. Your reliance on brute force is statistically inefficient and reckless. You are a variable I cannot trust."
"My physical power saved Lulu from being Creeper-food!" Tank roared, his loyalty flaring. "You're all head and no heart! I follow the leader who can actually do something, even if he's half-asleep!"
"Quiet!" Leo barked, the sudden, sharp command silencing them both. His Inertia wasn't just stillness; it was authority born of pure disinterest in the conflict. "Tank saved Lulu. Astrid kept the data. I moved too much and almost killed us all. Fact: we are a team. Strategy: we figure out how to stop the Duck with the Hammer from ruining the Rooftop Carnival."
[Scene 3: Pets, Gadgets, and Memory Recovery]
Lys Delmar stepped forward, accompanied by Dreamcat Spindle, who now sat curled possessively near Leo's still-smoking REMulator Band.
"The Protocol speaks through metaphor," Lys explained, her heterochromatic eyes shimmering. "Your band, Vance, contains the residual REM data of your forced vision. I must recover it."
She handed Leo the Echo Lens. "This helps focus the visual energy."
Using the Lens and her Dreamweaver Scepter, Lys began the painstaking process of data retrieval. The shimmering screen displayed fragments of symbols, equations (which Astrid eagerly tracked), and distorted architectural blueprints.
Suddenly, Dreamcat Spindle swiped at the screen with a mischievous paw. The disruptive movement miraculously stabilized a section of the data.
"Remarkable," Astrid muttered, filing the event under "Chaos-Based Computational Advantage."
The data solidified, revealing two clear blueprints for new artifacts, which instantly materialized near Leo:
The Echo Boots: Footwear that makes no sound in the dream or real world, but stores steps as delayed "echoes," useful to confuse/trap enemies.
The Memory Tuner: A small radio that "tunes" back to a chosen memory in dreamworld puzzles.
"The boots are for stealth and strategy," Astrid noted, her analytical mind whirring. "The Tuner is for recovering clues that you forget upon waking."
Leo felt a surge of genuine gratitude—a spiritual connection to his team. He looked at Astrid, not with sarcasm, but a warm, weary sincerity. "Thank you for dealing with my emotional baggage, Laura."
Astrid blushed slightly, dismissing the feeling with a forced cough. "It's a necessary calculation, Vance. Nothing more. Focus on the facts."
[Scene 4: The Hierarchical Clash and Prophecy]
The team now possessed the tools for the next stage. The question was, who was in charge?
"I lead the physical mission," Tank declared, thumping his chest.
"I lead the strategic and analytical mission," Astrid countered.
Leo looked at them both, leaning against the wall in his exhausted state. "I lead the Inertia mission. My job is to be the anchor. You two fight over the action part."
Dr. Rook intervened, holding up the Naptime Gavel. "The Protocol recognizes that you are the central anchor, Vance. But your power is passive. Astrid will serve as Mission Control and Tactician. Tank, you are security and field muscle. Lys is Intel. Hierarchy established."
Lys, now holding her Dreamweaver Scepter, closed her eyes. Her silver hair began to float, catching the light of the inner stars. She was performing a deep vision scan, peering into the chaos of the Rooftop Carnival.
"I see the Red Teapot," Lys whispered, her voice layered with strange echoes. "It is the source of the next Lumina Seed. But the trial is bound to the element of Jealousy."
She pointed her Scepter at the shimmering wall, projecting a vision of the target—the Obsidian Skatepark, a nightmare location where ramps shifted layout when no one was looking. The vision was warped, filled with shadow creatures moving with competitive fervor.
[Scene 5: The Warning of Betrayal]
Lys's visionary projection intensified, showing not just the location, but faces. She saw the rival Dreamwalkers—Dmitri Fox and Molly Rivers—moving through the shadows. But she also saw an internal threat.
"I see a warning..." Lys breathed, clutching her chest, the Echo Lens spinning wildly in its case. "A rival is already near. They are hunting the Seed and using the chaos of the shifting Lunar Cycle. And I see a darkness... one of our own is targeted. Jealousy will be their weapon."
She opened her eyes, staring directly at Leo, her expression one of profound, maternal distress—a true show of spirit and compassion for their reluctant leader.
"Vance," Lys said, the cryptic filter gone, leaving only stark fear. "Your comfort is the key, but the cost will be the sacrifice of a trusted bond. The Protocol will test who you are willing to lose."
Leo stared back, the weight of the prophecy crushing his exhaustion. He had just accepted the mission, only to be told its success depended on an inevitable betrayal.
CLIFFHANGER:
The projected image of the Obsidian Skatepark suddenly cracked, revealing a distorted, shimmering face within the darkness—a rival's face, staring back at them. The face was Dmitri Fox, wearing his signature red fox mask. His smile was cold, arrogant, and triumphant.
A voice, not Lys's, but a cold, cunning whisper, echoed in the chamber: "A fox finds every gate. Good luck with the trial, Sloth King. We'll be waiting for the prize."
The portal array above the central map flared to life, ready for travel, but now they knew a cunning, prepared rival was on the other side.