The chill emanating from the Dark Warden was not the cold of wind or ice, but the kind that seeps into your bones, an absence of hope that threatened to snuff out every spark within Kael.
His eyes, burning with an unnatural red, seemed to pierce through his very soul, seeking to find and consume the last flicker of resistance.
The dream corridor, once a crossroads vibrant with faded colors and faint echoes of others' dreams, was now contracting, drawn into the darkness, being carried with it.
"You will never be worthy of the Academy," the metallic voice echoed again, now closer, and Kael tasted ash in his mouth. "Your fire is only an ember. And I have come to make sure of it."
Kael didn't know what to do. His practical mind, used to solving concrete problems with tools and logic, was utterly useless in this dream reality. He tried to step back, but his legs seemed rooted to the dreamscape floor.
The figure advanced, its shape becoming clearer: a tall, slender creature, draped in a cloak of shadow that blended with the surrounding darkness. Its hands, skeletal and elongated, reached toward him, each radiating an intense, icy light.
"Abandon your foolish hope," the being hissed, "and I will grant you peacefully forget."
Peacefully forget... The phrase rang with menace. It meant losing the remnants of his dream, the faint trace of Elara, the last connection to who he had been. No. He couldn't.
Not after touching the girl's spark, not after smelling the flowers.
Despair surged like frustration. Kael, without thinking, without knowing how, moved his right hand. It was the same instinctive gesture with which he had brushed against the girl's fragments and the elderly woman's pendant. His intention was only to repel the shadow, to defend himself.
A faint spark, barely visible, leaped from his palm.
The Dark Warden hesitated.
Not a true hesitation, but a microscopic pause, as if caught off guard by that tiny burst of energy.
The aura of cold around Kael diminished for an instant.
"Such a weak fire…" the shadow murmured, almost with disdain. "Useless." Yet there was a hint of annoyance in its voice that Kael had not expected.
Encouraged by that tiny reaction, Kael tried again. This time, his intent was more focused: to launch that warmth, that spark. A flickering beam of light, no larger than a firefly, leaped from his hand, aimed at the Warden's chest.
The light did nothing, vanishing against the darkness of the cloak as if it had never existed. But the Warden's anger was palpable. "Impudent!" it growled. Its skeletal hand moved with unnatural speed, clawing at the air toward Kael. He felt a sharp pang in his chest, as if his own heart had been seized and squeezed.
A wave of painful memories flooded him—the blurred images of Elara struggling, his own helplessness, the feeling of failure. The Warden was trying to destroy what remained of his dream, to finish the job.
Kael fell to his knees, clutching his chest, breath dying in his throat. It was over. His adventure had lasted less than a single breath.
But at that moment, from the nearby dream corridor—the one that smelled of a wet forest after the rain—a figure emerged with the swiftness of a hawk. Agile, dressed in a long dark hood that almost completely concealed the face, its movements were fluid and precise. It seemed as if its feet did not touch the ground.
In its hands, it held a carved staff, the tip glowing with a cold, bluish light, different from Kael's spark.
"The Academy has already sent for you, Shadow!" The hooded figure's voice was deep and calm, resonating with a strange authority in that place.
"This youth is not yours. Let him go."
The Dark Warden hissed. "A Minor Dream Keeper. Your interference is pathetic. This is a Dormant Fire Warden, and its flame is a threat to the Ash."
"The Ash shall not have its due," the newcomer replied, raising the staff. A blue glow intensified at its tip.
"There are rules, even for beings like you!"
The Dark Warden, for the first time, appeared irritated. It moved its claws toward the hooded figure, releasing a surge of dark energy that seemed to drain color from the corridor.
But the Minor Dream Keeper responded with a lightning-quick move, intercepting the attack with his staff. The blue light and the red shadow collided with a hiss, creating tiny sparkling fractures in the air.
Kael, still on the ground, coughed, trying to catch his breath. The grip on his heart had loosened with the hooded figure's arrival.
He looked up.
The newcomer was clearly skilled. He moved with lethal grace, parrying and dodging the Shadow's attacks, his staff slicing through the dream air with rapid strikes of blue light. It was a deadly dance between light and darkness, between protection and destruction.
"Rise, boy!" the hooded figure's voice thundered, without taking his eyes off his opponent. "If you want to survive in this place, you must fight!"
Kael struggled to rise. His legs were still weak, but the Extract of Deep Lucidity prevented him from succumbing to fear or dream-induced unconsciousness.
He forced himself upright.
The Dark Warden, furious at the interference, unleashed a flurry of more aggressive attacks. The surrounding dream corridors began to shake, their colors fading, as if the very dream reality were under siege. The air pressure became almost unbearable.
"Now!" shouted the hooded figure, blocking a dark strike that could have felled a tree. "Focus! Find your inner light! Concentrate on what you want to protect!"
What Kael wanted to protect. It wasn't just Elara. It was the hope that he could one day feel her again. The hope that the girl at the fountain could have her flowers again. The belief that dreams should not die this way.
Kael closed his eyes for a moment, recalling the sensation of the spark on his palm. It wasn't a powerful fire, but it was his.
It was warm, and deep within his dream garden, the pale glow pulsed more brightly. He opened his eyes. The Minor Dream Keeper was struggling, his staff barely blocking the attacks, the blue light dimming under the Shadow's pressure.
With a cry of frustration and determination, Kael stretched both hands toward the Shadow. This time, the spark was no fleeting glimmer. It was a thin thread of golden light, extending from his fingers like a delicate whip, though trembling.
The golden beam was not as powerful as the hooded man's blue energy, but it was warm and vibrant, carrying with it an echo of hope and healing.
The thread of light struck the Dark Warden's arm. There was no explosion, no visible damage. But the Shadow recoiled sharply, hissing in a pain that did not seem physical, but something deeper, almost a disturbance to its own life force.
The darkness enveloping it seemed to flicker.
"This energy… disgusting!" growled the Warden. "A Dormant Fire Warden touching the Ash… intolerable!"
The Dream Keeper seized the opportunity. With a battle cry, he charged, his staff glowing intensely blue.
He clashed with the Shadow in a whirlwind of light and dark, a furious duel. Kael, exhausted but alert, saw the Dream Keeper strike the air with precise blows. Each attack seemed to carve tiny luminous cracks in the Shadow's form.
Finally, with a powerful strike, the hooded figure hit the Dark Warden's chest.
The Shadow screamed, distorting the surrounding air, its body beginning to fray, dissipating into smoke. It was not destroyed, but forced to retreat. Its red eyes, before vanishing completely, rested on Kael with an icy promise: "It's not over, Keeper. The Ash awaits you."
Then, there was nothing left. The intense cold vanished, and the dream corridors returned to their normal colors and sounds, though a faint tension lingered in the air.
The hooded figure turned to Kael.
Now that the danger had passed, Kael could see him better. The hood was drawn so low that only a strong chin and thin lips were visible. His eyes were hidden in shadow, but Kael felt their intense gaze.
"You were reckless, boy," the deep, musical voice said. "Crossing the Sleep Portals without a guide is madness. But your spark… is undeniable." He extended a hand toward Kael, who hesitated.
He didn't know whether to trust him.
"I'm Anya," she said, lowering the hood slightly, and Kael was surprised to see that it was a woman. Her face was lined, but her eyes, though tired, shone with resolute intelligence.
"I am a teacher at the Academy of Broken Dreams. We were looking for you. Your ability is rare, dangerous if untrained. And the Dark Wardens know it."
Kael looked at her, confusion mingling with relief.
"You were looking for me?"
"Your spark was a faint signal, but enough to be noticed," Anya replied, her voice now less authoritative, more weary. "But now that you are here, within the borders of the Dream Realm, the signals are stronger. And your performance against that Warden… confirmed a lot."
Anya's fingers moved slightly, and the carved staff in her hand took the form of a simple wooden bracelet, which she slipped onto her wrist.
"Come with me," Anya continued, pointing down one of the dream corridors, the one exuding a sense of calm and ancient wisdom. "The Academy of Broken Dreams is not a building, Kael. It exists in the time and dreams of those who have chosen to guard it. But it is also a refuge. Here, you can learn. You may even understand what happened to your dream."
Kael looked at the corridor, then at Anya. It was an opportunity he had never dared to imagine. A way to understand his power, to confront his loss, to perhaps, one day, mend what had been broken. His practicality told him it was the only path. His sensitive heart whispered a fragile hope.
He prepared to follow her. But before he could take a step, Anya froze, her shoulders tensing. Her eyes widened slightly, fixed on a point just behind Kael.
"No," Anya murmured, her voice tense, "It's not possible. Not here. Not so soon."
Kael turned, following her gaze. From the dream corridor where Anya had emerged—once a calm grove—other shadows now appeared.
Not one, but several, each larger and more imposing than the Warden they had just faced.
Their eyes glowed a deeper red, and their presence sucked in all light, turning the intersection into a palpable abyss of darkness.
"It seems," said the chilling voice, now part of a broader, terrifying chorus from all the figures. "That a small Dormant Fire Keeper is not the only one we have come to claim," they said.
"Anya… your interference has lasted far too long."