The village square was silent — but the silence was wrong.
It stretched and twisted, like a stretched canvas ready to snap.
The boy with hollow eyes took another step, and the cobblestones cracked beneath him, splintering into shadows that slithered like snakes.
Lior's heart pounded.
"Who is he?" Lior whispered.
Rhéa's eyes didn't leave the figure. "He's you. The part of you that gave up on dreaming. The shadow that escaped the First Dream."
Mira grabbed Lior's arm. "We need to stop him before he erases everything."
"But how?" Lior asked, his voice cracking.
Before anyone could answer, the shadow-boy smiled wider — too wide, like a cracked mask.
"I'm freer than you," he said, voice like broken glass. "No more chains. No more fears. I am the end of all dreams."
He stretched out his hand, and the shadows surged forward, swallowing the baker's shop, the fountain, even the tall oak tree.
Lior felt a cold rage rising inside him — a fire fueled by fear, loss, and the desperate need to protect.
He stepped forward.
"I'm not done dreaming."
---
Rhéa nodded.
"Then dream."
The clocktower began to hum.
The gears spun faster, the brass shining brighter.
Lior closed his eyes and reached deep into himself — into the tangled web of memories and fragments that made him who he was.
He imagined the village — not as it was now, cracked and breaking, but as it could be: alive, full of light, laughter, and hope.
The shadow-boy faltered.
But he didn't disappear.
"No," the shadow snarled. "You can't erase me."
---
Lior opened his eyes.
The village was shining now — but faintly, like a candle struggling in the wind.
Rhéa said, "You need more than hope. You need to remember the First Dream. Find the place where it began."
Mira stepped forward, her voice steady.
"And face the part of you that's been waiting."
The clocktower bell tolled once.
A signal.
The final dream was beginning.