The ground felt firmer under their feet. After leaving the valley where the shared dream had taken place, the group was now moving through an area of low vegetation and rarely used paths. The sky was blanketed by heavy clouds, but none suggested a storm — only silence, like a pause between two important questions.
Albert walked ahead, unhurried but with clear direction. Kaelya stayed close by, and Leon, a bit further behind, scanned the area for details — broken branches, faint hoofprints, small pieces of fabric caught in dense bushes. Enira walked in line with the others, but her gaze was fixed on the sky, as if expecting a signal that never came.
"How far is the next city?" Leon asked, breaking the silence.
"Three days on foot," Kaelya replied, consulting an old map drawn on a piece of parchment. "But with some spatial magic, we could reduce the journey to half a day."
Leon whistled briefly.
"I don't want to be the one pushing it, but... we do have a friend who controls all kinds of magic. Don't we, Albert?"
Albert didn't answer right away. He stopped, lifted his eyes to the sky, and lowered his hands, as if feeling the air.
"There's too much distortion in the atmosphere. Someone activated a temporal node to the southeast. If we teleport, we risk entering an unstable field."
Enira tilted her head slightly.
"There are traces of subconscious magic there... something I've felt before. Like a place where the world dreams without knowing it dreams."
"A forced dream?" Kaelya asked. "The kind of trap someone sets to block access without direct confrontation?"
Albert nodded slightly.
"Exactly. We'll walk for a while. Then... when I feel we're outside their influence, we'll use a spatial fold."
They continued in silence. There was no tension between them — only alertness. The kind of silence that doesn't come from fear, but from the awareness that any step could be the last normal one.
"What does 'being real' mean to you?" Enira asked, without warning.
Kaelya gave a faint smile.
"What I feel, what I think, what I choose. And what others are willing to accept I am."
"Wrong," Leon replied. "Real means 'it hurts when you hit your pinky toe on the corner of the bed.' I've tested it many times."
They all chuckled briefly, even Albert.
"Enira," he said without looking at her directly. "Don't look for definitions. Reality is a toolbox. You choose the tool — not the other way around."
She nodded, either in understanding or simply accepting not to understand for now.
On the horizon, a rocky formation began to take shape. It wasn't a marked area on any map. But Albert had already noticed it a few minutes earlier. And more than that — he felt that this was where the next test would come. Not for their power. But for what they believed they knew about reality.
The rock formation in the distance turned out to be more than just a natural obstacle. As they approached, Albert could feel the air grow denser—not physically, but energetically. It wasn't hostile magic, nor was it passive. It was... a presence.
"That rock ahead… it's hollow inside," Albert said softly.
Kaelya raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, hollow?"
Albert extended a hand, and his right eye lit up in a deep shade of blue laced with strands of black. The earth, the stone, and all the invisible layers unfolded like the pages of a book.
"Inside is a circular chamber. With ancient symbols on the walls. It's not a sanctuary—it's more like... a terminal. A place where reality becomes negotiable."
"It's not a gate?" Leon asked.
"No. It's a place where reality is... negotiated."
His words were calm, but in his eyes burned a curiosity tightly controlled. Enira seemed to understand more than she said. She reached out her hand and touched the rock, murmuring in a language that didn't belong to this world.
"Here... an unspoken question was buried. And whoever speaks it opens the path to an answer. But not just any question. Only those that cannot be put into words."
Kaelya turned to Albert.
"Do we activate it?"
"No," he answered. "Not yet. We don't have all the pieces."
With a simple motion, Albert touched a stone with his fingertip, and a trace of magic pulsed outward in all directions. Within seconds, the rock lost its mysterious glow and became inert.
"It's sealed, for now."
"For tactical reasons?" Leon asked.
Albert gave a small smile.
"For balance. A truth revealed too soon is as dangerous as a well-told lie."
They left the rock in silence and continued on their way. Above them, strange clouds moved in irregular patterns, as if someone beyond the sky was watching and trying to write their thoughts in the atmosphere.
When they stopped for a short break, Enira sat on a smooth stone and asked:
"What do we do once we reach the city?"
"We split up for a while," Kaelya answered, surprising everyone. "We need to scatter. Too many eyes are on us."
Albert nodded.
"We'll go in different directions for now. But we'll remain connected. When the time is right… we'll meet again."
Leon crossed his arms.
"I don't like it. Didn't I say I hate plans that don't involve hitting someone?"
Kaelya laughed.
"You've said it many times, but you still follow them."
Albert closed his eyes for a moment. In that instant, his right eye revealed again the projection of the symbols from the earlier interlude—fused with a blurry image, masked by a cloud of shadows. A clear sign: they were still being watched. But no one could know how he knew. Nor who else could see.
His gaze slowly lifted toward the sky, as if that was where the answer lay. Or the beginning of another path.
The Gaze Beyond Symbols
Somewhere far from the traveled paths and beyond the valleys inhabited by mortals, in a hall without a name, a blue circle of light pulsed faintly above a table carved from raw stone.
The symbol of the Eternal Council — nine intersecting lines that never touched — flickered dimly, distorted by an unfamiliar vibration.
"He activated it again… but not completely," said a female voice. Her mask was made of fragments of darkened mirror, and her hair floated as if gravity had long forgotten her.
Another figure, completely wrapped in a glossy black cloak, responded without moving his lips.
"The color wasn't purely blue. There were shades of black within it. This isn't just clairvoyance. It's absolute negation of presence."
"And yet he looked directly at us," the woman continued. "He knew where we are. He understood we were watching."
The circle at the center of the table shimmered suddenly, projecting a shadowy silhouette — not a clear image, but a blurred shape, like a shadow in a mirror.
"He sent this," said a third voice, bodiless, only an echo vibrating in the walls. "As a warning… or as protection?"
The woman closed her eyes.
"As a choice. He showed us that he knows. But he did not attack."
A moment of silence fell over the hall with no walls. The light began to flicker.
"We need to see him. Not just feel him."
"We can't," replied the one in the cloak. "Not fully. When he activates his gaze, we see only the effects — never the cause."
In a far corner of the room, a door opened. Another presence entered: older than the others, covered in living symbols that moved across its skin like the waves of an impossible ocean.
"It's too early," this one said. "But the time is coming. And he will not come alone. She has already returned."
"You speak of the dream?"
"No. I speak of the choice the Entity refused to make. The one who now walks beside him."
All fell silent.
In the trembling light of the chamber, the bodiless voice asked:
"And what do we do until then?"
"We watch him. But we do not touch him. Not yet. Not until his gaze turns golden."
As the valley deepened and their steps carried them along a lesser-traveled path, the remaining three — Albert, Enira, and Leon — advanced without haste. The rest of the group had temporarily scattered into the nearby settlement to gather information about the recent movements of the Church of the Shard of Light and the rumors surrounding the disturbances at the Watcher's Tower. But Albert had chosen not to plunge immediately into that world of words and suspicion. He walked in silence, and Enira — with an almost symbolic stillness — walked beside him.
Leon, trailing slightly behind, muttered:
— Every time we stop, new stories start to emerge. Each place, each village... it's like they all remember something. And yet, everything points to you, Albert.
Albert didn't answer. He had done so too many times before, and never with results that changed what had become evident: reality was starting to adapt to his footsteps.
Enira halted. She looked toward the murky sky, then back at Albert.
— You felt it too, didn't you?
Albert slowly raised his gaze. In his right eye pulsed a shade of darkened blue, with uneven edges, like a sky melting into shadows. On his retina, like a living film, the images of the earlier discussion in that nameless place unfolded — the ones wearing the symbol of the Nine Lines. Every word, every silence was known to him. Not because he had spied on them, but because his eye perceived them directly, like an extension of truth itself.
— We're not alone, he said.
Leon stopped, tensing.
— Who? Where?
Albert closed his eyes for a moment, and when he reopened them, the black hue had faded from the blue iris.
— It doesn't matter. As long as they choose to watch without interfering, I'll allow it. But they shouldn't believe they can hide anything from me.
Enira gently ran her fingers over her chest — exactly where the dream had left its imprint.
— They're not gods, are they?
— No, Albert replied. Just witnesses. For now.
They stopped near an old stone, covered in moss. Albert placed his hand on it. With a subtle gesture, a spiral of light opened above the ground — a teleportation gate, quiet, controlled, connected only to his will.
— We're not wasting time. Not today.
Leon grinned faintly.
— I don't mind walking, but... let's just say teleportation has its charm.
Albert extended his hand toward Enira.
— Are you ready?
— Yes.
A quiet light enveloped them, and in the next moment, the three vanished from the valley — leaving behind only the silence of a reality wondering whether it had truly been touched.
Reflections from the Closed Zone
In a room with no walls, located between the edges of a reality no map could trace, nine chairs stood arranged in a circle. Only three were occupied. The symbol of the Eternal Council pulsed faintly in the center — a sphere made of nine lines that never touched, yet formed a perfect unity.
— He activated the blue, murmured one of them. A male voice, cold but tinged with fascination. But it was accompanied by a shade of black. What does it mean?
— A rare branch of the Transcendent Eye, said the second. It's not just understanding time or commanding truth. It's confirmation that he knows he's being watched, and yet allows it. A form of compassion... or a warning, depending on the watcher's intentions.
The third member slightly tilted their head.
— Then why doesn't he reject us entirely? He could. With a thought, he could reduce us to eternal silence.
— Because he hasn't decided yet whether we are part of his path... or a necessary obstacle.
The floor symbols lit up for a second. A fragment of an image — the scene in the valley — appeared in the room's center. Albert, holding out his hand toward Enira as teleportation began. No tension. No defense. And that made the moment all the more dangerous.
— He no longer reacts. He chooses. Every second. He doesn't respond to attacks, nor flee from threats. He reshapes them.
— So what do we do?
— Nothing. We only observe. Those who act against infinity... vanish without a trace.
A moment of silence. Then, from the edge of the room, a female voice — not one of the three — whispered:
— But what will happen when he decides there's no more need for Witnesses?
The others didn't respond. Only the symbol on the floor trembled slightly.
The Fractured Song of the World
Above the Continent of Smoke, where the air tasted of ash and the sky never touched the horizon, a colossal hourglass spun in reverse. No mortal could see it. Only a single being was allowed near it: The Guardian of the Unhappened Time, a crystal-fractured entity whose voice flowed backward.
On that day, the hourglass began to tremble. It hadn't shattered. It had… hesitated. A single grain of sand remained suspended in mid-air.
— Who dared to question the second that never came? the guardian whispered, and the world quivered.
At the same moment, on the opposite edge of reality, the Tower of Star-Oil, where astral beings preached about events that never happened, recorded a change.
A child born without destiny, but with metal eyes, began writing on a living scroll. His writing burned away alternate realities, erasing the echoes of wars that never came to pass. No one had taught him. No one could stop him.
— Has the new Chronicler of Silence been born? asked an ancient voice draped in a thousand stars.
— No… he is merely the shadow of the choice Albert never made.
---
On a forgotten isle in the Sea of Certain Shadows, the last dragon from the Era of Lived Past awakened from a seven-millennia slumber. It raised its head, sniffed the air, and whispered:
— He looked upon him. And yet he lives... Who are you, child who shatters laws without touching them?
Then it soared skyward, leaving no trace in the sand.
---
In the land of mages who never learned magic but dreamed it instead — the Unlearned Sanctuary, a group of elders who never spoke simultaneously turned their heads south. A new symbol had appeared in the sacred chamber, etched into stone: a formless flower.
— A choice without meaning has been created, said one, breaking two centuries of silence.
— It is time to remember that magic need not be understood. Only felt.
---
And yet, in every corner of the world, one thing remained constant:
The Gaze.
In an unseen fold of the sky, in a space where time splits from space, an open eye — blue, with glints of black — watched. It did not intervene. It did not warn. It simply knew.
Albert… had seen it all.
And he had yet to choose.
The light that had carried them through space faded gently, leaving them standing at the edge of a rocky plateau high above a gorge cloaked in shifting mists. Here, the wind didn't smell of the world—it smelled of magic, of old stone, and of something unnamed—a waiting that seemed to have never begun.
"Where... are we?" Leon asked, slowly turning.
"This place isn't on any map," Albert said, stepping forward. "Not because it's hidden, but because it has not allowed itself to be named."
The plateau seemed to pulse under their feet, like a sleeping heart. Enira closed her eyes and felt. It was the same place she had dreamed of… or, more precisely, the place that had entered her dream. An ancient knot of magic, seemingly untouched for thousands of years.
Albert halted suddenly, gazing toward the cliff's edge. Below, the gorge spiraled downward, and deep within, barely visible, was a crystalline structure suspended between two columns formed of... lights? Or perhaps condensed thoughts.
"It's one of the world's ancient roots," he said quietly. "A 'remnant of truth', as the Eternal Council called it. Not meant for mortals."
Leon blinked.
"Then why are we here, if it's not meant for mortals?"
"I'm not mortal," Albert answered simply.
The words carried no weight, but their echo subtly changed the air around them.
Enira stepped beside him.
"I've seen this place. In a dream… When I woke up, part of it was still inside me."
Albert nodded.
"That's why I brought you here. This place has already answered you. I will not touch it. But you..."
She took a deep breath and stepped forward. As she neared the cliff's edge, the colors around her shifted. A translucent circle formed beneath her feet, linking her to the structure below.
Leon stepped back, stunned.
"What's happening to her?"
"She's aligning with a knot of reality," Albert replied. "Every being who has dreamed of this place was already chosen. She was chosen without knowing."
"And if she doesn't want it?"
"Then the place will forget her. But if she accepts, she'll become... more."
At that moment, Enira opened her eyes. Her pupils were clear, but behind them pulsed a yellow light. The color of emotional understanding.
"I'm done running," she said. "If this place called me... I answer."
A ring of light enveloped her, lifting her body briefly above the plateau.
Albert didn't intervene. He only watched.
Leon, in a low voice:
"It's... beautiful and terrifying at the same time."
"That's how it is when someone awakens to a power that doesn't fully belong to them."
In a final wave of energy, the light contracted and laid her gently back on the ground. Enira looked unchanged, but something around her was... more alive.
"What happened?" she asked.
Albert approached.
"You are now part of that structure. It's not a contract. It's not a curse. It's a connection. You have a new path, if you choose to follow it. But you are not bound."
She smiled.
"If it's with you... I'll follow it."
Albert looked at her for a long moment, then turned his gaze to the sky.
Beyond the clouds, something was watching. And he knew.
"We move forward," he said. "But now... back to the others."
With a gesture, he created a portal of light. This time, Enira could see it before it fully formed.
"It's different," she said.
"Because you are different now."
And together, they stepped toward the next destination.
The light dropped them at the northern edge of the mountain settlement, where the rest of the group had already returned. The air smelled of burning pine, and the noise of a makeshift market in the central square pulsed with the energy of collective fatigue. It was a nameless settlement, but not one without a past — a former borderland between two fallen kingdoms.
Albert stepped out of the portal first, followed by Enira and Leon. Those present briefly paused their activities, staring at Albert's figure with silent, almost ritualistic curiosity. Some recognized him without ever having seen him before.
Kara approached in a rush, her brows furrowed:
— We found something. It's worse than we thought. The Watcher's Tower wasn't just attacked — it was temporarily abandoned. Some say a rift opened in the Hall of Mirrors.
Enira frowned.
— And our people?
— Only a few signals. Zyan went to investigate. But it took the protection of three sacred knight orders to isolate the area. And... there's a rumor that one of the mirrors reflected a face that should not exist.
Albert closed his eyes for a moment.
— It's heating up.
Leon looked ready to ask something, but a violet glow reflected in his pupils before he could speak. He turned. In the middle of the town, in front of the stone fountain, a circle of children had stopped before an old woman talking about "gods fallen into dream" and "the war of the three hours."
Albert sighed.
— The world is beginning to remember things it was never meant to know.
Kara:
— What do we do? Are we going to the Tower?
— Yes. But not all of us. Send Leon to the traveling librarians to see if any new texts on mirrors have surfaced. You and Enira are coming with me. The Tower… wants to be found.
Leon seemed ready to protest, but a subtle gesture from Albert made him bite his tongue.
— Fine. But if another portal opens, don't leave without me.
Albert smiled.
— You have no idea what portals await.
Later, as the sun disappeared behind the snowy ridges, a cold wind carried the scent of old metal and a fire that had not fully died. Enira turned to Albert, her gaze marked with unusual gravity.
— I feel like… we can never go back to how things were.
Albert:
— No. But the truth is, they never really were that way.
She stepped closer to him and silently rested her forehead against his shoulder.
— Then… I'll go anywhere.
— I know.
Beyond the hills, a faint light pulsed like a heart just beginning to beat.