The sight of the banner — with that cruel, ruined engraving of his own dream garden, destroyed — hit Kael like a punch to the gut.
His breath caught in his throat. It wasn't possible. How could they know? How could that ancient symbol depict with such precision his greatest loss — the image of Elara, and her withered dream?
"Kael?" Anya's voice was cautious, noticing his reaction. She stepped closer, following his gaze to the carving. A shadow crossed her face — an ancient sorrow Kael had never seen before.
"These are… the scars of the Old Academy," she murmured. "Every Keeper of the Slumbering Flame who failed, or was consumed by the Great Ash, has their symbol engraved here. It's a warning. And a remembrance of what we fight to protect."
Kael couldn't look away. "But… that's my dream," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Elara's tree. How do you know about it?"
Anya placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "When your spark awakened, it resonated with the Academy's dream network. Not in exact detail, but it reflected the nature of your loss — and the strength of your dormant Flame. The engraving is an interpretation, an echo. It means The Ash deeply touched your dream. But it also means you are powerful enough to have drawn its attention."
The meaning in Anya's words didn't comfort him. That image of his ruined garden felt more like a sentence than a warning. It made him feel exposed, vulnerable.
"So I'm just another scar? Another failure waiting to happen?" he asked, bitterness creeping into his voice.
"No!" Anya's grip tightened slightly. "You're here. That means you have a chance. Your Slumbering Flame can be trained, guided. The Old Academy fell. Those you saw — the Dark Wardens — were once Keepers like us, or their dreams twisted by corruption. The Ash… It's more than destruction. It's consumption — an insatiable hunger that devours every dream, every hope, to grow stronger."
As Anya spoke, Kael began to perceive the Academy's atmosphere more clearly. It wasn't a place of luxury or splendor, but of ancient endurance. The stone walls weren't polished, but solid — shaped by time and magic.
Here and there, faint lights flickered from niches, or the soft echo of half-forgotten melodies could be heard, as though the stones themselves held the echoes of past dreams.
In some of those niches, Kael noticed small metal and stone sculptures — human figures and dream creatures. They were memorials, dedicated to fallen Keepers or lost dreams. Some seemed almost alive, as if they carried a whisper of souls still connected to the vast web of Keepers and dreams that made up this realm.
"This isn't the Academy as it once was," Anya continued, leading him down the corridor. "The upper levels were sealed long ago. What remains is the Deep Foundations below. This is where the last of us train, hide, and search for ways to fight the Ash. There aren't many of us left, but we will endure. And we're not alone. There are others, in the waking world, who fight against the Ash in their own ways — even if they don't know it."
The corridor opened into a vast cavern, lit by glowing gems embedded in the ceiling, casting an ethereal, shimmering light.
The space was immense, branching off in many directions.
Kael saw others — figures dressed in simple, practical garments like Anya's — some studying ancient tomes, others practicing with fluid movements using weapons made of condensed light.
They were the Dream Keepers, guardians of this hidden place. Among them, Kael noticed a young woman with short, lively hair, moving with feline grace. Her focused expression drew his attention. Determined, sharp, disciplined.
An older man approached — with a long white beard, piercing eyes, and an aura of calm and deep wisdom.
"Anya. You've returned. And brought a new candidate." His gaze settled on Kael, steady and knowing. "A Keeper of the Slumbering Flame, I see."
"Master Elian," said Anya, bowing slightly. "This is Kael. His spark is strong, though unrefined. He faced a Lesser Warden alone before I intervened, and he opened the Ancient Portal."
Elian nodded, a subtle smile tracing his lips. "Impressive for one untrained. Welcome, Kael. I am Master Elian, Elder Keeper of the Deep Foundations. Your arrival is… timely".
Kael didn't understand what "timely" meant, but Elian gave him no chance to ask.
"Anya, I leave his initial training to you. He must understand the nature of his Slumbering Flame before the Ash comes to claim him. This boy has a peculiar resonance with it. I felt it the moment he crossed the portal."
A chill ran through Kael. A peculiar resonance? What did that mean?
"Come," said Anya, guiding him by the arm through the main cave. His thoughts swirled — questions about Elara, The Ash, and himself.
Anya led him to a small, simple room with a bed and a soft lantern. "This will be your quarters, for now," she said. "Rest. The journey through the Sleep Portals and the battle have drained you. Tomorrow, your training begins".
Kael collapsed onto the bed. The Deep Lucidity Extract had worn off, and exhaustion, both physical and emotional, crashed over him. But for the first time in ages, it wasn't an empty fatigue. It was the weariness of effort — of learning, of survival.
He didn't intend to do everything these strangers demanded, but he wanted answers. He decided to play along — for now. He was here, in the dream realm, and being a guest had its rules.
The next morning, Kael's training began — and it was grueling.
Anya took him through small, controlled dream corridors, simulations in which he was tested again and again.
"Your power," she explained as he struggled to focus, "isn't to create dreams — but to repair them. To reconnect what has been broken. The Slumbering Flame is pure energy — the warmth that fuels dreams. The Ash drains it, extinguishes it.
You can reignite it.
But you must learn to control it, to avoid being consumed by the despair of the dream you try to mend."
Kael discovered his power was more versatile than he imagined. He could feel the cracks in a dream, the sorrow clouding it. With practice, he learned to channel his energy, releasing a wave of golden light that, when focused, could mend small fractures in the dream's fabric.
But it wasn't easy. Each attempt left a dull ache in his mind — and a fragment of the dream's sorrow or fear clung to him afterward.
Master Elian often oversaw his sessions, his gaze ever thoughtful. One evening, after a challenging exercise, Kael broke down with yet another question about his sister. Elian stopped him.
"Your resonance is strong, Kael", the old man said. "I can feel your Flame straining to revive your sister's broken dream."
Kael lowered his eyes. "Is there hope, Master? For her?"
Elian sighed. "The Ash doesn't simply break a dream, Kael. It consumes it. What you saw, the withered garden, is the truth. The Ash devoured her dream of life, her desire to awaken. That's why her consciousness is trapped. To restore a consumed dream is nearly impossible — no one has ever fully succeeded."
The words hit Kael like a blow.
Nearly impossible. His heart broke all over again. He had hoped this place would offer simple answers — a cure.
But the truth was crueler.
"But not impossible," Elian added softly. "Your Flame is different, stronger than any I've seen in centuries. If there is hope, it lies in you. But understand this: the Ash's design is far greater. It seeks not just to extinguish individual dreams, but the Great Dream of the World, the collective hope that binds all reality. If it succeeds, the waking world will crumble, stripped of meaning and purpose".
The weight of those words pressed down on Kael. It wasn't just about his sister. It was about everything.
Days turned into weeks. Kael threw himself into his training, pushing beyond exhaustion. He learned to defend, to sense dream threats before they took form. He studied the Academy's history, its fall, the nature of the Ash and its Wardens.
He discovered the Ash wasn't a mind with intent — but a force of annihilation, feeding on despair and loss.
One night, during deep meditative training to strengthen his connection, Kael sensed a strange vibration from the depths below —a low, rhythmic sound, like a heartbeat.
He rose and followed it, descending through ancient corridors untouched for centuries.
The torches are lit here… so someone uses these halls. Smells damp… he thought.
The deeper he went, the dimmer the light grew, the heavier the air. The heartbeat grew louder — steadier.
Then he found it.
A circular chamber — at its center stood a massive black crystal, pulsing with a violet glow, absorbing the surrounding light. Seated in a circle around it, in deep meditation, were several Keepers — including Master Elian and Anya.
Their faces were tense, muscles taut with strain. They were channeling energy into the crystal. Among them, Kael recognized the young woman with the vivid hair, Lyra. The tips of her hair shimmered faintly violet as she concentrated.
The heartbeat Kael had followed came from the crystal itself. As he watched, its surface rippled like disturbed water. And within it — for a heartbeat — Kael saw something.
Not a dream. A vision. Cold and terrible.
A barren wasteland, endless, lifeless. Not his garden this time, but the world itself. Every plant, every tree, every flower — turned to dust. Among the ash stood countless human figures, motionless, eyes hollow, their bodies brittle and gray like soot-stained statues.
There was no life. No dream.
It was the world — the Great Dream — completely consumed.
And at its center, Kael felt a hunger vast beyond comprehension — a presence that filled the horizon. The Ash itself, expanding endlessly.
The vision shattered. Kael staggered back, clutching his head. The crystal smoothed again, pulsing softer now.
Master Elian opened his eyes and saw him. His gaze was grave.
"Kael," he said, voice weary but firm. "You've seen it."
"What… what was that?" Kael asked hoarsely. "What is that crystal?".
"This is the Chamber of the Dreamheart," Elian replied. "And that crystal — an ancient conduit. It allows us to perceive the Great Ash's presence… and slow its advance. But now, it grows stronger. What you saw, Kael, isn't a possibility; it's the future we face, if we fail to stop it".
"And the Dark Wardens — they're not just its servants. They are its eyes, its hands. They hunt Keepers like you — to extinguish the last flames of hope. Because the Great Ash must devour the brightest light first."
Elian's words echoed through Kael's mind. He was that light. The Ash wanted him... And the future of the world… depended on him?
He felt the crushing weight of that thought.
"Master," Kael asked, his voice trembling but resolute, "What can we do? How do we fight something like that?"
Elian looked at him, eyes sharp yet sorrowful. "We cannot fight the Ash directly. It is primordial. But we can destroy its Beating Heart — the source from which it draws the power to manifest in our realm. It lies hidden in a place older than memory — a forgotten corner of the Dream Realm, where only a few can tread."
The old man rose as the other Keepers slowly emerged from their trance, their faces pale and weary. Lyra rubbed her temples, her silver eyes reflecting the same exhaustion.
"The problem," Elian said, his voice a grave whisper echoing through the chamber, "is that the Ash created a guardian — its most powerful yet — to protect that Heart. A guardian none of us has ever overcome.
A guardian who was once the first and greatest Keeper of the Slumbering Flame… the founder of this very Academy.
Her name was Solara.
And now, she is The Ash's most loyal protector — its deadliest shadow."