It was a cold, dry morning when Ethan found Lila again.
She was sitting on the steps outside the philosophy hall, her sketchbook balanced on one knee, a thermos of tea beside her, and earbuds in—but not playing anything. She was watching the clouds shift over the horizon with a strange intensity, like they might peel back and reveal something underneath.
Ethan sat beside her without a word.
She glanced over, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. "You went back, didn't you?"
He nodded. "I had to know if it was real."
She tapped her pencil against the page. "And?"
"I leveled up," he said quietly.
That made her pause. "You what?"
"Level 2. I fought something called a Mirrorborne. Made a skill. The system called it Thread of Will." He flexed his fingers slightly, and for a brief moment, silver filaments shimmered faintly between his knuckles before vanishing into the air.
Lila blinked. "You already awakened Cognitive Fabrication? That's... that's supposed to take weeks. Months, even."
Ethan shook his head. "It just… happened. I didn't even know what I was doing. But when I imagined something—it formed."
"Then you're further along than I thought." She leaned forward, sketching something quickly. "Cognitive Fabrication is the rarest dream-path the Rift grants. It's not brute force. It's conceptual—turning thought into reality. Most people get raw instincts. You get architecture."
Ethan hesitated. "Why me?"
"Maybe because you think too much," she smirked.
He gave a tired laugh.
She closed her sketchbook and stood. "You need training. Come on."
---
They walked across campus until they reached the abandoned art building near the woods—one of those condemned structures that had become a ghost story on its own. Rusted metal sculptures stood half-finished in the courtyard. Ivy strangled the walls.
Lila pulled a ring of odd-looking keys from her pocket and opened a warped metal door. It creaked open into darkness.
Inside, the air was dry and dust-choked. The floor creaked under their steps. Sunlight filtered through shattered windows like broken glass.
"I come here to practice," Lila said, tossing her bag aside. "The Veil bleeds through easier in forgotten places. Easier to trigger entry or partial projection."
Ethan raised a brow. "Projection?"
She pulled a small, jagged shard of mirror from her coat. "We can't always afford to sleep to reach the Rift. Sometimes, we force it."
Before he could ask, she pressed the mirror shard to her palm.
A drop of blood fell.
The world shifted.
Not completely. Just a haze.
Ethan blinked. The walls seemed to stretch. Shadows flickered in corners that weren't there before. A thin mist rolled across the floor. The boundary between worlds had grown thin enough to breathe through.
> [Dreamrift Projection: Shallow Sync Established]
Partial entry. Limited interaction. No level gain. Safe zone — unless disturbed.
"This is a practice field now," Lila said, cracking her neck. "Show me what you've got, Dreamweaver."
---
Ethan took a breath, then extended his fingers.
Thread of Will.
The filaments shimmered into life—three fine strands of glowing silver that drifted like spider silk. They hummed slightly in the altered air, vibrating with tension.
Lila nodded. "Not bad. Control?"
He imagined them moving—and they did, weaving a rough sphere before collapsing back into his palm.
"Impressive," she said, circling him. "Most people struggle with stability. The Veil likes to mutate intent. You think of a wall—it gives you a cage. You want light—it burns you. But your mind is… clean."
"I've always had too much control," he said bitterly. "Until Mia…"
Lila's expression softened, but she didn't pry.
Instead, she raised her hand and drew a sigil in the air—a glowing spiral that flickered blue.
"Let's see how it holds against pressure."
A shadow burst from the ground behind her—a Rift Shade, semi-formed, writhing with static limbs. It shrieked and lunged at Ethan.
He flinched—but didn't retreat.
The threads snapped forward—coiling around the creature's neck and arm. He twisted, and they cinched tight. The Shade convulsed, then shattered into dream-glass and vapor.
Lila raised a brow.
"Fast," she said. "Too fast for Level 2. You're syncing faster than anyone I've seen."
"Is that good?"
"It's terrifying," she said honestly.
Then she stiffened.
They both felt it.
A tremor. Not in the building—but in the air. A ripple of pressure, like something enormous had just breathed through the Rift.
> [System Alert: Reality Tear Detected Nearby]
Classification: Level 5 Entity Presence – WARNING
Synchronization Surging in Adjacent Zone
Lila turned pale. "That's not normal. Stay here."
She ran to the broken window and looked out.
Ethan followed.
At the far edge of the woods—where a collapsed greenhouse once stood—the air was bending. Light shimmered and cracked like glass, revealing a tear in space. A figure stepped through.
Not crawling. Not confused.
Striding.
He was tall. Pale-skinned. Hair white as chalk. His coat fluttered behind him like smoke, and symbols etched in crimson glowed faintly along his arms.
But it was his eyes that struck Ethan.
One was human.
The other… was an open clock, its gears spinning.
> [Entity Detected: Dreambound – Named Class]
Name: Lucien Kairas
Level: ???
Status: Stable – System-Linked – Sanity Variable
This user is a named Dreamwalker. Extreme caution advised.
Lila cursed. "Lucien…"
"You know him?"
She nodded tightly. "He used to be one of us. Then he learned to control the Rift. Now he doesn't come back unless it's to drag someone else inside."
As they watched, Lucien reached down and touched a tree.
It withered.
Its bark peeled, branches curled inward, and the entire thing turned to ash in a matter of seconds. Ethan shuddered.
Then Lucien looked up.
And met Ethan's eyes—across distance, time, and dream.
He smiled.
> [Target Marked: Observer Connection Established]
Lucien Kairas has taken interest in you.
Ethan stumbled back, heart racing.
The system's voice rang again—cold and metallic:
> "Thread entanglement detected. Destiny branch forming. Conflict inevitable."
Lila grabbed Ethan's arm. "We need to leave. Now."
They fled the art building as the light behind them twisted.
---
Back in the dorm room, Ethan collapsed onto his bed, still shaking.
He stared at his hands. The threads hadn't faded. They were alive, humming faintly, as though the Rift was leaking into reality more and more each day.
Lila stood near the window, arms crossed.
"Lucien knows your name now," she said. "That means he'll come for you. Or worse—he'll test you."
Ethan looked up. "Test me how?"
"By forcing you into deeper layers. By hunting your fears. By turning the Veil into a maze of your own worst memories."
She walked over, kneeling in front of him.
"You're not ready. But you can be."
He clenched his fists. "Then teach me."
Her eyes searched his for a long time.
Finally, she nodded. "We start tomorrow. I'll take you to the Forgotten Steps. It's a stable rift-point. We can train there. Safely… mostly."
Ethan lay back against his pillow as Lila left.
The crack in the mirror had grown. Now there were two.
He closed his eyes.
He no longer feared the Rift.
He feared what he might become inside it.