Night draped the countryside like a velvet shroud. Dream lay in the carriage beside Erias, appearing as a mortal man curled under a travelling cloak. His eyes were closed, breath steady, form still.
To the boy, Dream was asleep.
To the world, Dream was resting.
But he was neither.
He listened.
Across the great veil between mortals and the dream-realm, Seros approached his throne. She did not see him in the mortal world she saw only the throne room of her collapsing kingdom.
She stood before his seat of woven starlight and bowed deeply.
"My lord… I have found the truth."
In the mortal world, Dream's eyelids flickered.
Seros's voice crossed realms like a whisper carried by creation itself.
"The traitor is not alone," she said, trembling. "He has gathered followers. A thousand dream-born stand behind him. Twisted by the Fallen, and loyal."
Dream did not move.
His breathing remained soft, mortal, perfectly pretending to sleep.
Seros continued, her voice breaking:
"This is no longer a single rebel. It is an army. A force strong enough to tear open the boundary between dream and waking. If they escape into the mortal world…"
Her voice faltered.
"…they will turn Vvralis into a nightmare."
Dream heard everything.
He simply did not open his eyes.
Seros bowed again, voice trembling with urgency.
"I will keep searching for their intent… but my lord, we are running out of time."
Her presence faded.
Silence returned.
Dream lay utterly still in the carriage, hearing the mortal wind, the distant hoot of an owl, the soft rustle of grass. His hands tightened beneath the cloak.
The knowledge burned through him:
The traitor had built a legion. A thousand twisted dream-born.A force large enough to unmake cities.
And he was trapped in a mortal body for the boy's sake.
For a moment, fury trembled beneath his skin.
Then
He felt danger.
Not from Seros.
From the world around them.
Bootsteps.Rustling brush.Low laughter.
Dream kept his eyes shut.
Erias sat at the fire, cleaning the last of the pots, completely unaware of the figures closing in.
A dozen men burst from the bush bandits, armed and hungry.
Erias froze.
Dream did not move.
One bandit kicked the fire apart, scattering sparks.
"Well look at this," he sneered. "A fancy carriage. Rich supplies. And"
His sword pointed at Erias.
"a soft little boy."
Another laughed. "The old man in the carriage is asleep? Easy pickings."
Erias's blood turned to ice.
He whispered toward the carriage door, voice shaking:
"Varos… Varos wake up..."
Dream did not rise.
He stayed perfectly still.
Waiting.
Watching without opening his eyes.
The bandits surrounded the boy.
"Come here," one snarled. "We'll make this quick."
Erias stepped back, shaking violently. "Leave him alone…"
The bandit laughed. "Or what? You'll stop us?"
Erias stood his ground.
Dream heard the boy's heart pounding.
Another bandit raised his blade. "Kill the kid. The man's asleep he won't even know."
He lunged.
And in that instant
Dream opened his eyes.
Power cracked the air.
He moved faster than steel, faster than fear, faster than mortal sight. His hand closed around the descending blade, stopping it mid-strike.
The bandit gasped.
His mortal shape held but barely. Power leaked through it, shimmering at the edges.
"What what are you?" whispered a bandit.
Dream did not answer.
He unleashed his fury.
And the bandits died.
He struck with lightning speed silent, furious, precise. Bones shattered. Weapons snapped. Men fell before they could scream.
The last attempted to flee.
Dream caught him and ended him with a single, final blow.
And then
Silence.
Only the crackling remains of the shattered fire remained.
Erias stood trembling.
He stared at Dream, breath shuddering.
"You killed them," he whispered. "All of them."
Dream looked at the bodies.
He had not meant to kill so violently. Not in front of a child.Not while bound in mortal form.
But anger and fear had driven him.
Erias took a step toward him.
"Varos…" the boy whispered, voice breaking with something between awe and desperation. "Train me."
Dream turned sharply.
"What?"
"Train me!" Erias cried. "Teach me to fight like that! Teach me to defend myself, defend others, defend you!"
Dream's eyes widened, pain flickering through them.
Erias continued, voice hoarse:
"I don't want to be helpless anymore. Please… I want to be strong."
Dream stared at him.
This boy, still bruised, still fragile, still so heartbreakingly mortal, was asking to walk a path that ended in blood.
Dream's heart tightened.
"No," he whispered. "Not yet. Not you. Not now."
"Why?" Erias demanded. "Why not?"
Dream's voice cracked softly.
"Because the moment you begin down that road… You will never return to who you are now."
Erias's eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
Dream stepped back, breath unsteady.
He turned.
Walked toward the carriage.
Sat down heavily inside it.
For the first time, fear not for himself, but for the boy pressed against his chest.
He had heard Seros's report. He had killed men in anger. He had become something terrifying in the boy's eyes.
And now the boy asked him to create a weapon out of him.
Dream closed his eyes again.
But this time, he could not pretend to sleep.
He was too worried. Too conflicted.Too aware of the traitor and his thousand-follower army.
And too afraid of what he might turn the boy into.
The carriage remained still.
The fire crackled softly.
Erias stood outside, fists clenched, heart aching.
Dream sat within, silent as the grave, staring into the dark.
Both knew:
The road ahead was changing.
Not just because of the traitor.
But because of the boy's plea.pp
Train me.
The words echoed like prophecy.
And the choice would change the fate of Vvralis forever.