The return to the physical world was a violent shock.
One moment, Ethan was a vast entity, his consciousness spread across a kingdom of silence and shadows. The next, he found himself once again trapped within his limited human body, lying on his worn-out sofa in his silent apartment. The faint light from his computer screen was the only source of illumination, and the low hum of the refrigerator served as his anchor to the world of reality.
He sat up slowly, feeling a dull ache in his temples, the side effect of the immense mental effort he had exerted. He looked at his hands in the dim light. They were ordinary hands, but he felt they were foreign, simple tools compared to the power he had wielded moments ago.
Then he saw the mark.
On the back of his left hand, there was a faint, transparent imprint, like a ghostly tattoo. A perfect black circle, and in its center, a white point of light. It wasn't just a memory from the dream. It had crossed over with him into reality.
"So, it's real," he whispered, his voice hoarse in the quiet of the room. "This isn't just a dream. Something has changed... in me."
This realization spurred him to action. This wasn't a time for rest, but for understanding. The next few days were a blur. He accepted no new tasks, answered no messages. He dedicated every waking moment of his consciousness to exploring his new kingdom. He would sleep for long hours, not for rest, but to travel.
Every time he entered the "Kingdom of Silence," he felt it respond to him more deeply. He gave it a new name in his mind, a name that reflected the new nature he had imposed upon it: "The Asylum of Echoes." It was no longer a place of death, but a place where things were born under his command.
In one of his explorations, he noticed what he had previously felt as a "current." He saw that the edges of his domain were not solid, but semi-permeable. Currents from the "Sea of Silence" flowed past constantly, carrying with them the remnants and echoes from the dreams of millions in the city.
"This place... isn't isolated," he thought as he watched a gray current of anxiety pass by his kingdom. "It sits on a psychic crossroad. It's... a farm."
A new and powerful idea formed in his mind. He didn't need to hunt. His prey was coming to him.
He decided to run an experiment. He opened his mental "prison" and released one of the small nightmares he had harvested—the "nightmare of the fear of heights." It was a trembling, weak entity. Then, using his control over the domain, he guided one of the incoming streams of fear from the outside and poured it directly onto the entity.
The scene was stunning. The small entity devoured the fear energy with eagerness, and began to grow and change. It was no longer just a vague fear, but took shape to become a creature with deformed leathery wings and claws, a more defined and powerful entity.
"So, they can evolve," Ethan said to himself, a cold smile forming on his face. "I can breed my own monsters here. I can turn this swarm of insects into an army of hyenas."
He spent the next day testing the limits of his control. He learned how to shape the landscapes in the "Asylum of Echoes," how to build and create from nothing. Then, he tried his most dangerous ability.
"Can I bring someone here? Not by chance, but by force?"
He didn't dare target a real person yet. Instead, he dove into his own memories and extracted the image of the guard, "Frank," whom he had met in the dream. He created a fake version of him, an "echo" of his memory, and let it float in the Sea of Silence. Then, from his throne, he focused his will through the sigil on his hand, cast his psychic fishing line, and threw it toward that echo.
He felt the connection, then began to pull. It took effort, but he succeeded. The phantom echo of Frank materialized before him in the throne room, confused and stunned, before fading away again.
Ethan laughed. A quiet but triumphant laugh. He had now confirmed it. He had the fortress, he had a factory for armies, and he had the ability to summon anyone he wanted to his court.
He sat on his throne made of shadow and began to summarize everything, laying out his grand plan aloud, like a king speaking to himself and his silent kingdom.
"Alright... let's see what we have. First: this domain, the 'Asylum of Echoes,' is my sanctuary and my second body. Second: I can harvest and feed nightmares, turning them from annoying insects into real monsters. Third, and most importantly, I can summon the consciousness of any sleeping person here, to my throne room."
He stood and began to walk in the empty throne room. "The plan to confront 'Somnus' is no longer just defense or revenge. It has now become... a project."
"I will find the other 'Conductors' from their list. I will bring them here, one by one. But I won't appear to them as 'Ethan'."
He looked at his hands. "Ethan is weak. Ethan is just a ghost living in a cheap apartment. When I meet them, I must be something else. I must be the symbol they saw in their dreams. I will be 'The Proprietor'."
He thought of his appearance on the throne, the face hidden behind a swirl of smoke, the glowing blue eyes. "This is my new identity. A mysterious figure of incomprehensible power."
"But I can't work alone, or at least, it shouldn't seem like I work alone. Power lies in mystery and in the impression of a vast organization."
He smiled. "I will use my new nightmare servants. When I bring 'Maya,' I'll have one of my more evolved monsters present her report. I'll give them codenames... 'Nightmare No. 7,' 'Silent Guardian No. 3.' I will give her the impression that she is joining a secret resistance movement, not a one-man army."
He looked out into the void of his kingdom. He had found the plan. The perfect plan.
"Somnus has 'Project: Morpheus'," he said aloud, his voice strong and powerful. "And I... I will have 'The Shadow Covenant'."
He felt a complete sense of satisfaction. He was no longer a reacting victim, but a master planner. He had found his path.
He returned his consciousness to the real world for the last time that night. He opened his computer and looked at the list of "Conductors." His eyes settled on one name.
Maya Alcott.
"Time to send the first invitation," he thought, the glint in his eyes colder and sharper than ever before. "Ms. Alcott, your appointment with 'The Proprietor' is due."