“Dark… why is it so dark?”
Alex mumbled the words as he drifted up from a dream that had been nothing but empty black. Yet the place he woke up in was anything but.
He blinked slowly, feeling warmth before he understood it. Soft sheets covered him, thick and heavy, carrying the faint scent of clean wool and old stone. His fingers brushed against coarse fabric… definitely not the cheap cotton sheets he was used to back home.
As his eyes adjusted, the room revealed itself in pieces. Rough-cut stone walls rose on all sides, fitted together like an ancient puzzle. Torches flickered in iron sconces, their flames low but steady, painting the room in a warm amber glow.
Two arched windows were set deep into the wall, their glass fogged by the morning chill. Pale light leaked through them, mixing with the torchlight to create an atmosphere that felt both cold and warm at the same time.
Alex sat up, studying the room with a confused frown. This wasn’t his apartment. This wasn’t anywhere he knew.
The only thing his mind could relate to was a sturdy wooden desk beneath the windows. It held a few items: an empty cup, a folded cloth, and a small bowl of water. It reminded him of his own messy shelf back home: phone, alarm clock, dirty plates.
He swung his legs out of bed.
Cold.
The sensation bit into his feet. He looked down, the floor was made of uneven, clean stone.
‘Could I be…?’
He had an idea of where he was, but the thought was interrupted by the sudden click of the door opening. A young woman stepped into the room, carrying a basket of clothes. Her gaze drifted from the floor to the bed, and then to where Alex stood.
She froze. Her pale cheeks turned a violent shade of red, and her eyes flickered anywhere but on him.
“I… I beg your pardon…”
In an instant, she dropped the basket on the bed and retreated, slamming the door behind her.
“What was that about?” Alex muttered.
He didn't know what had flustered her. Was it his looks? Alex sighed. “Can’t be. I’m pretty average when it comes to looks.”
He looked down at himself.
He froze.
He was naked.
“You have to be kidding me,” Alex groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Where are my clothes… wait. The battlefield.”
He paused, the memory hitting him like a physical blow. The images were a blur of fragmented violence that slowly pieced themselves together.
The black mist. The creatures with no faces. The sound of souls being ripped from bodies. He tightly grabbed his arms, goosebumps rising on his skin as he recalled the sensation of the creature's tendrils crushing him. It was… unpleasant, visceral, and impossible to erase.
“Wait, wasn't I injured?”
He checked his body. A few scratches remained here and there, but the deep wounds along his left shoulder, where the creature had gripped him, were gone. Or rather, they had been treated. The skin looked new, though it still produced a faint, stinging impulse.
He shook his head. ‘Focus.’
He turned to the basket the woman had left. ‘At least I have clothes now.’
*****
After the challenge of wearing the garments, Alex looked himself over.
“Is this real?” He whispered. ‘I’m still dreaming, aren't I?’
The clothes felt foreign on his frame, a costume from another time. A crisp white shirt with puffy sleeves. Dark trousers and sturdy brown leather boots that hugged his form with a tailored fit. It spoke of a life far from university hoodies and jeans.
“Kind of feel weird in these,” Alex muttered.
He sat on a stool near the desk. “What now?”
His mind tried to bridge the gap. He recalled the battlefield, but before that…
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“The Veil, was it?”
Right. The Veil. The place between worlds where Morpheus introduced itself before tossing him into a nightmare.
‘Damn you, whatever you are,’ he cursed inwardly.
“Wait… Morpheus?”
As he spoke the name, the screen shimmered into existence.
------------------------------ MORPHEUS ------------------------------
Lucidity : 26% ▼
Realm Alignment : (Lucid Realm) ▼
Lucidity Tier : Tier 0 (Dormant Dreamer) ▼
Tier Level : N/A ▼
Dream Resonance : 67/100 ▼
Dream Trial : The Crying Spire (Uncompleted) ▼
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Crying Spire?” Alex's gaze fixed on the new text. “A trial for what, exactly?”
With a thought, he expanded the arrow.
[ Dream Trial: The Crying Spire ]
[ Description: Locate the Crying Spire and silence the Weeping Stone at its peak. ]
[ Notice: Dire Consequences ▼ ]
“What the heck? What kind of description is that?”
Alex was left speechless. As a gamer, he was used to vague quest logs, but usually, there was a map marker or an NPC to guide you. If he failed in a game, he could just check a thread on WOI.
Here, there was no WOi.
“Right. Nothing but tests that make no sense. And what was the point of tossing me into that battlefield?”
He clicked his tongue, his eyes drifting to the [Notice] tab.
‘Dire consequences?’ Frowning, Alex expanded it.
[ Notice: Dire Consequences
1. Failing to complete a quest will result in dire consequences.
2. Death in Dreams results in death in the waking world. (DO NOT DIE!)]
Alex froze. He read the second line again. Then a third time.
‘Death in dreams results in death in the waking world.’
He scoffed, a nervous sound that died in his throat. He thought back to the battlefield, how close he had come to being erased by those creatures. If he had died there… he would have died in his apartment?
‘Is that possible? Is this why people die in their sleep?’
He shivered in his new leather boots. His spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.
Alex quickly dismissed the screen. “Enter.”
He stood up straight, bracing himself for the embarrassed maid to return. However, the person who opened the door was a man.
He filled the doorway with an easy confidence, his warm, umber skin glowing in the torchlight. Jet-black hair framed a sharp jaw, the bulk of it tied back in a low ponytail, giving him a roguish look. He wore flexible black leather armor that creaked softly as he moved, stylish, but functional. A single, thin scar traced a pale line from his temple down his cheek.
His eyes, the color of earth, scanned the room in a single, efficient sweep before landing on Alex. A knowing smile appeared, sharp and assessing.
“Ah. The sleeper awakes,” he said, his voice warm and sturdy.
He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “And he’s already dressed. A man of initiative. I like that. Saves us all the awkwardness of a formal introduction while you were… in your bare skin.”
The smile reached his eyes. He definitely knew about the maid incident.
The man pushed off the doorframe and stepped fully inside, his stride long and relaxed. “I am Roric. And you, my friend, are very, very lucky.”
Alex stood for a moment, baffled by the man’s charisma. He appeared only a few years older than Alex, but something about his easy confidence reminded him of Marcus.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Introduce yourself,” Roric prompted.
“Uh… I’m Alex,” he replied, finally finding his voice.
“No last name? I’ll assume you're a bastard then. Much like myself. No hard feelings.”
“No, actually… Alex Dawson,” Alex clarified.
Roric’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Dawson?” he repeated, testing the name. “Hmm. Never heard of it. And I know a lot of names.”
He took another few steps closer, hands resting casually in his pockets, his gaze turning analytical. “So, Alex Dawson. Which region do you hail from? Your accent is… peculiar.”
Silence filled the air. Alex didn't know if saying "District Sixteen" would mean anything here. It sounded too sci-fi for a place lit by torches.
Seeing his hesitation, Roric's serious expression melted away. He tapped Alex's shoulder and let out a warm, disarming laugh.
"Oh, my. You should have seen your face! Are you trying to tell me you aren't even aware you're from the far Western Region? You have the look about you."
"Uh, well…" Alex stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift.
"Enough of that for now," Roric said, his tone turning to one of purpose. "The Council awaits. They have… a lot of questions that need answering."
He turned and began walking toward the door, hands laced casually behind his head. He paused forward and glanced back, a glint of challenge in his eyes.
"Shall we?"
This Week's Release Schedule:
New chapters will drop on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
