The book sat open, glowing faintly, like it knew they were about to do something stupid.
Leo squinted. "Dream Bridge... Sounds more like a headache tunnel."
Vellum rolled his eyes. "You're just scared you'll dream about Ari chasing you with a broom again."
"Nope. This time, I'm hoping it's the gentle version. Maybe she's making parathas," Leo muttered, cracking his knuckles.
They cleared the floor, lit the required candles, and began chanting.
> "Solm naviera... tre luma…"
Leo's body rose about half a foot in the air.
"Whoa! I'm levitating!" he grinned.
And then WHUMP—crashed back down on his tailbone.
"Magic sucks," he wheezed.
"Try again, Lord Levitato," Vellum snorted, dodging a pillow Leo flung at him.
This time, Leo focused harder. The world around him glitched—like a broken screen flickering reality. He shot forward—
—and fell again.
But not into reality.
---
He found himself somewhere... familiar yet foggy. The air smelled faintly of flowers and shampoo.
"Oh no," Leo muttered. "Not her dream…"
He turned—and there she was.
Ari stood, wrapped in a towel, scowling. Steam curled behind her.
> "Leo? Why are you here? Are you DREAM PEEPING AGAIN?"
He stammered. "I-I didn't mean to—this is a—dream glitch—I was trying something totally mature and magical!"
> "Get. Out."
Reality twisted.
Leo was flung out.
---
He opened his eyes with a jolt, this time chanting more carefully.
The room shimmered again, but steadier now. He went under—deep.
But this time, it was his dream. Or was it?
Everything looked distant, like he was watching a play where he forgot his lines. His own body stood on a battlefield—the same war-torn wasteland from Chapter 1. Smoke curled, the ground was scorched, and strange markings glowed faintly in the air.
And then... the man appeared.
Tall, tattered cloak, aura like gravity itself. The same man from before.
Leo watched himself approach the figure. But the voice came to him directly.
> "You're fast."
Leo turned.
> "You have potential," the man said. "But not all of it is yours."
"What?"
The man's eyes gleamed. "We share the same magical soul."
Leo blinked. "Wait—you're saying we're like... soul siblings?"
> "No. You and I have separate minds, separate hearts—but the same ancient soul pulses through both of us. It is the soul of magic itself, passed on after I died in this war."
Leo looked down. The battlefield. The spells. The bodies. This was the war… from his dream. The first dream.
> "You were chosen. But not for peace. The soul... is cursed. Overflowing. And cursed things draw chaos."
Leo tried to speak, but the dream world was cracking around him.
The man—his past self?—placed a hand on Leo's shoulder.
> "You'll fight. You'll lose. You'll fight again. But I'll be there…"
His form began fading.
> "...always. In your strength. In your spells. In your scars."
And then Leo woke up—
---
He sat upright in bed, chest heaving. Sweat clung to his back.
The first thing he saw? Ari, standing over him, smacking his forehead lightly.
> "You were talking in your sleep. Something about soul-wars and steam towels. Should I be worried?"
Leo blinked. "No. Maybe. I don't know."
He didn't tell her everything. Just that he had a strange dream. But the heaviness in his chest remained.
The battlefield. The curse. The shared soul.
And the man who looked like him… only stronger.
---