The world was still trembling from Ash's decision.
He hadn't spoken since he pushed open the silver-veined door in the dream corridor, choosing the path that Palo begged him not to take. Even now, back in the waking world, the tremor clung to him like a shadow that refused to let go.
Palo walked beside him in silence, his jaw clenched, his eyes holding that mixture of worry and disbelief that Ash couldn't bear to face. They crossed the dim hallway of the old dormitory, the faint hum of the building's pipes echoing around them. Everything felt… out of rhythm.
Not wrong.
Just shifted.
As though reality had moved one step sideways.
Finally, Palo stopped. "Ash," he said quietly. "You didn't have to choose that option."
Ash swallowed hard, though the dryness in his throat refused to ease. "You saw what the Rift showed us. If I chose the other door… everything would collapse."
"Or," Palo countered sharply, "it was another trick. Another illusion. Another half-truth meant to push you."
Ash didn't answer.
Because he didn't know anymore.
The dreams had been getting sharper, too sharp. The Rift, that endless shimmering wall of fractured memories and impossible futures, had been calling his name with increasing force. And when the corridor presented two doors, Ash had felt the pull so intensely that resisting wasn't possible.
He had chosen instinctively.
Dangerously.
Alone.
Palo sighed and pressed his palm to the side of his face, trying to steady himself. "Ever since you touched that Rift, you've been changing."
Ash stiffened. He didn't like the way Palo said it, like Ash was becoming something else. Something unfamiliar.
"What kind of changing?" he asked carefully.
Palo hesitated. "Sometimes you speak before I ask a question. Sometimes you move before I shift. And today… when you opened that door…" His voice dropped. "The lights flickered in both the dream and the waking world."
Ash's stomach tightened.
He felt it too, this strange intertwining of his consciousness with the fractured plane beyond the Rift. But saying it aloud made it too real, too dangerous.
"Palo," Ash murmured, "I need you to trust me."
"I do," Palo said, louder than he meant to. His voice softened. "But I'm scared of what lies on that path you chose."
Before Ash could respond, the air vibrated subtle but unmistakable. A thin, glass-like ringing filled the hallway, bending the light around them. Palo's eyes snapped up.
The Rift was opening.
Not in the dream.
Here.
In the real world.
A thin crack of white-blue luminescence tore across the far wall, widening slowly like a wound in the air. The temperature dropped. Shadows twisted, bending toward the glow as though answering a silent call.
Palo grabbed Ash's sleeve. "This isn't normal. It's never opened by itself before."
Ash felt the pull deep in his chest. The same magnetic tug that had ripped him through the dream corridor nights before.
"That's because," Ash whispered, "this one was meant for me."
The crack widened again.
A voice faint, echoing, layered with harmonics that didn't belong to a human throat slipped through the rift.
"Ash… you chose. Now step forward… and see what your choice has awakened."
Palo stepped between Ash and the light, eyes blazing with fear and defiance. "No. You're not taking him."
The Rift pulsed.
Ash felt the pressure, gentle but inevitable. A calling. A demand.
He placed a hand on Palo's shoulder. "If I don't go… the fracture will spread."
Palo turned toward him, anguish tightening his expression. "Then let me go with you."
Ash froze.
Because the Rift reacted instantly, its glow dimming, vibrating in rejection.
"It won't allow that," Ash said softly. "The path I chose… it was never made for two."
Palo's eyes shone with something raw and pained. "Then the choice really did fracture everything."
Ash stepped forward, breath unsteady, heart pounding like a distant drum.
A single thought echoed in his mind:
Some dreams aren't meant to be dreamt…
But some choices refuse to stay asleep.
The Rift swallowed the hallway in white light.
And Ash stepped through.