Vicnan was a contradictory creature. The source of all power in the world came from the Oneiroi. Once an Oneiroi graced your dream, you were forced to endure either a nightmare or a fantasy until you anchored yourself within it—or you broke. The power received from each dream was completely unique to the individual, because the abilities were directly linked to how one perceived and understood the dream.
Vicnan's nightmare anchor gave him the ability to manipulate his own blood.
But the truth was—
I hate blood!
Vicnan wiped his pricked finger on his jacket and continued walking toward the office. Blood brought him unpleasant memories but using it was also massively inconvenient. To use his Anchor at all, he had to injure himself—or be injured by someone else. And to make matters worse, Vicnan was anemic. He couldn't rely on his Anchor even if he wanted to.
"Good morning, Vicnan."
Vicnan's eyes darted around as he grabbed the knife in his pocket. The voice echoed without a source in the narrow backstreets he had chosen to shorten his walk. Suddenly, he felt someone tug at his arm. He jerked away and stepped back, ready to defend himself—only to see a petite girl with long blonde hair and calming blue eyes.
It was his coworker, Calista.
"Ah—apologies. Good morning, Calista."
"Don't worry about it."
An awkward silence filled the air. This wasn't the first time Vicnan had failed to sense or even notice his friend's presence. She held no grudge, however. Her Anchor made her almost impossible to notice. Calista simply wasn't meant to be seen—or rather, she didn't like being seen at all. If he had to describe her in one word, it would be boring.
"Well, Calista, I'm headed back to work and really must be going now—"
"I'll join you."
Vicnan gave her a half-hearted smile and quietly exhaled before continuing toward the office. It wasn't that he disliked Calista. It was just that walking with her felt like a one-sided staring contest. He knew she was next to him, but due to her Anchor, she might as well have been silently stalking behind him.
"So, Vicnan."
A long pause followed.
"So…"
Vicnan coughed and glanced over his shoulder, waiting.
"Vicnan, you… uhm… have a lot of doughnuts."
Calista eyed the floating boxes, her fingers fidgeting. Vicnan lowered one of the blood-formed discs, so the box hovered at her level.
"Ah, so you've noticed. Dear Calista, it's your lucky day!"
Calista's eyes sparkled as she opened the box.
She doesn't want to walk with me. Damned glutton just wants a treat.
"Take two and no more. I plan on sharing with the rest of the office."
Calista swiftly grabbed two large chocolate donuts, closed the lid, and smiled up at him before immediately stuffing her face.
"Thank… you…" she mumbled between bites.
Vicnan didn't mind giving her the donuts. What bothered him was how easy it would have been for her to take the entire box without him ever noticing—her Anchor made her maddeningly sneaky.
"Yeah, don't mention it. A support agent must support in every facet!"
"Does that really apply to you though? Your Anchor doesn't do anything all that amazing support-wise. Honestly, I think you'd be better as a combat agent."
Vicnan choked on nothing and coughed violently—a bad habit from smoking with Vivienne.
"What sort of fool do you take me for, Calista? You, of all people, know I can't fight worth a damn."
Ahead of them, the building he would be working in for the next month came into view. It wasn't impressive—in fact, it was rather pathetic. Its windows glowed a dim blue instead of the standard white or yellow, making it stand out like a sore thumb. Vicnan didn't mind the humble appearance, though.
"You know I can't be a combat agent. If I did that, Ingrid would be without me."
Calista swallowed her food, licked her fingers, and looked up at the moon.
"Yeah… I guess you're right."
Vicnan lowered the box she had opened earlier and flipped up the lid.
"Might as well get one…"
Inside was a sight more terrifying than any nightmare. Instead of two missing donuts, there were four.
"Calista!"
Vicnan spun around, but there was nothing—only empty air. Calista had robbed him blind and vanished like a thief in the night.
"I know where you work, witch!"
Vicnan kicked a rock down the street and kept walking, his mood souring instantly.
Whatever.
He shook his head and stopped at the office doors. Above them, in italic metal lettering, read:
Phantasmal Eradication Organization
It was about time to clock in.