Sleep didn't come easily.
Even after everything Lila had told him, even after hearing the word "Dreamweaver" again and again in his mind, Ethan found himself resisting sleep like a man avoiding poison.
But exhaustion is a patient predator.
By midnight, the candlelight he'd left on had guttered out. Jared was snoring softly in the other room, and the world was quiet again. Ethan lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing.
He had questions. Too many.
And fear.
Not just of the Rift—but of himself.
Because some small, treacherous part of him had liked it.
The intensity. The clarity. The way he had made a wall of light by instinct. The way it responded to his thoughts. It felt like control. Power. Something he hadn't had since the night Mia died.
So this time, he didn't wait for the Rift to take him.
He closed his eyes and called it.
The whisper answered.
---
[System Entry Detected]
Synchronicity Level: 12%
Dreamrift Layer Access: Outer I
Status: STABLE – Minor Dream Tether Engaged
Skill Path Activation: Cognitive Fabrication (Awakening)
---
The world ripped open.
Ethan was yanked downward—no longer floating, no longer falling, but sinking. Like into the weight of sleep, into memories pressed between time and reality.
He gasped as air returned.
And stood.
He was in a corridor of rusted mirrors.
Hundreds lined both sides, stretching down an infinite hallway. Each one reflected not only his face—but different versions of him. One had bloody hands. One wore armor made of shadows. One… had no eyes.
The mirrors pulsed like breathing skin.
> [You have entered: The Hall of Refracted Selves]
Layer: Outer I – Classification: Identity Fragmentation Zone
Mental Integrity Risk: Moderate
Warning: Mirrorborne Entities active in this region. Do not lose track of your reflection.
Ethan took a cautious step forward. The ground was soft—like walking on skin stretched too tight. His shoes made no sound.
Each mirror he passed showed a possibility. A life he could have lived. A version of him with courage. With violence. With madness.
The hallway curved left.
The mirror next to him suddenly cracked—spiderwebbing outward with a high-pitched whine.
His reflection blinked out of sync.
And smiled.
Ethan recoiled. "No—"
The reflection stepped out of the mirror.
It wore his face—but its eyes were empty sockets pouring silver mist. Its smile was too wide. Too knowing.
> [Entity Identified: Mirrorborne – Shade of Doubt]
Level: 3
Behavior: Mimicry, Psychological Sabotage, Memory Disruption
Recommended Action: Confront. Overcome your reflection to reclaim self-stability.
The creature charged.
Ethan raised his arms instinctively—and again, the power surged.
This time, it didn't form a wall.
Instead, light wove itself into thin wires that extended from his fingertips like threads of thought. They shimmered and danced, responding to his will.
The Mirrorborne slashed at him with glass claws. Ethan dodged—barely—and lashed out with the threads.
They wrapped around the creature's wrist and solidified. The thing snarled and pulled, but Ethan focused, imagining the threads tightening, hardening like steel.
They obeyed.
His mind pulsed with light.
> [Cognitive Fabrication: Level 1 Skill Acquired]
Skill: Thread of Will – F-Rank
Create physical constructs from focused mental intent. Current Limit: 3 active threads.
Cost: Mental Focus + Dream Energy (Minor)
With a flick of his hand, the threads yanked the creature off its feet. Ethan twisted—and imagined the threads turning to fire.
They burned.
The Mirrorborne screeched, body flaring with silvery flame, and collapsed into shards of black glass that scattered and vanished.
Ethan gasped, falling to one knee, heart hammering.
He had done it.
He had created a skill.
The Rift responded.
> [Level Up: Level 2 Achieved]
+1 Cognitive Attribute Point
+Skill Slot Unlocked
Dream Energy Capacity Increased
Ethan stood, trembling—but smiling.
Somehow, he felt clearer than he had in months.
---
He moved deeper into the corridor.
The mirrors grew fewer. The air grew heavier. The ground began to shift from flesh-like stone to black crystal that clicked underfoot like broken bone.
A structure rose ahead—a chapel, made of mirrors and bone, pulsing with blue light.
He stepped inside.
A single figure knelt before a shattered altar. Long white robes pooled around her like spilled silk, and her long silver hair obscured her face.
She turned when he entered.
Her eyes were hollow. Not dead, but infinite—like looking into the reflection of reflection.
"I dreamed you," she said.
Ethan hesitated. "Who are you?"
"I am what remains when a dream forgets itself," she whispered. "I am the Oracle Fragment."
> [Minor Oracle Entity Detected]
This being holds Dreamcore information. Fragile. Incomplete.
Interaction may grant knowledge, memories, or powers.
Warning: Exposure risk to unstable timelines.
She reached out a hand. "You have walked farther than most. The Veil remembers you. Do you wish to know why?"
Ethan stepped forward, cautious. "Yes."
Her hand touched his forehead—
—
A flash.
Mia's face. A scream.
A shadow swallowing the sky.
A dream collapsing into a sea of eyes.
A figure, tall and horned, sitting on a throne of stitched wings.
A phrase burned into stars:
"Dreamweavers are the ones who shape what cannot be spoken."
—
He staggered back, gasping.
The Oracle began to fracture. Her skin split with light. Cracks raced across her form.
"You have awakened your Thread. But threads must lead somewhere…" she whispered.
Then, with a pulse of power, she exploded into a storm of memory shards—each one a sliver of emotion, sound, color.
They spun around him like stars.
> [Dream Fragment Acquired]
Memory of the Oracle: 1/6
Collecting all fragments may unlock hidden truths and forgotten powers.
As the shards faded, Ethan felt a strange peace settle over him.
Not joy.
But purpose.
For the first time, he understood something.
The Rift wasn't just a prison of horrors.
It was a test.
And he had passed the first one.
---
He opened his eyes.
His dorm ceiling stared back at him.
His breath steamed in the cold morning air.
But something had changed.
The mirror across the room now bore a thin crack down the center—like a scar across glass.
His fingers still tingled with the memory of the thread.
And a voice whispered again, but softer this time. No longer hostile.
> "Well done, Dreamweaver."
Ethan sat up.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring. What nightmares he'd face. What dreams he'd be forced to confront.
But he knew this:
He would shape this place.
He would turn fear into power.
And in the end—he would find out what took Mia from him.
Even if he had to reshape reality itself to do it.