The final ten days were a blur of frenetic activity. The atmosphere in the Academy, once merely tense, was now thick with a palpable, suffocating dread. Some Sleepers broke down completely, their nerve failing them before the trial even began. Others formed hasty, desperate alliances, huddling together for a sense of security that none of them truly felt.
Lucian remained apart from it all. He spent his time in the training halls, honing his sword forms until they were second nature, or in the library, absorbing every last piece of data on the Dream Realm he could find, cross-referencing it with his own knowledge.
He sought Sunny out one last time, finding him alone in the armory, meticulously sharpening the edge of his chosen short sword. Lucian walked up to the workbench next to him and began maintaining his own blade in silence.
For several minutes, the only sound was the soft scrape of whetstone on steel.
"Are you scared?" Sunny asked suddenly, not looking up from his work.
"Fear is a tool," Lucian replied, his voice low. "It keeps you alive. Panic is a luxury that gets you killed. There's a difference." He paused, then looked directly at Sunny. "I'll give you one piece of advice for the place we're going."
Sunny finally stopped and met his gaze.
"Trust your eyes, not your ears. Sound can be an illusion, a lure. And never, ever turn your back on something you've killed until you've seen it dissolve."
It was a cold, practical tip, devoid of any sentiment. It was the most valuable gift he could offer. Sunny stared at him for a long moment, then gave a single, curt nod. An understanding passed between the two ghosts of the Outskirts. They were not friends, not yet. But they were no longer strangers.
The final day arrived. Cohort 73, along with hundreds of other Sleepers, was gathered in the Immersion Hall. The chamber was vast and cold, filled with row upon row of sleek, metallic pods that looked like coffins. The air hummed with latent power.
A chief officer gave a short, grim speech about duty, sacrifice, and glory. Lucian didn't listen. He scanned the faces of his cohort. Nephis was a pillar of calm radiance. Cassie was a pale shadow beside her. Sunny was a coiled spring of grim determination.
"Enter the pods," came the command.
Lucian walked to his assigned station and lay down on the cold cushioning inside. He took one last look at the real world, then the canopy hissed shut, sealing him in darkness. A needle pricked his arm, flooding his system with a cocktail of nutrients and stabilizers.
A familiar, ethereal voice, the one from his memory of the novel, echoed in the confines of his mind. It was no longer a distant story. It was his reality.
[Your First Nightmare is about to begin...]
[Transferring to the Dream Realm.]
[Welcome... to the Forgotten Shore.]