The eye of the statue opened—
—and the world held its breath.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
The breeze stopped.
The clouds paused mid-drift.
Even Ren's heartbeat seemed to lag for half a second.
He stared into the eye of a god carved from sleep and silence.
Within that single eye shimmered a thousand dreams…
And at the center of them all?
Ren.
"Uhh… guys?" Ren whispered. "Is the giant statue supposed to look at me like that?"
Keeri already had her daggers drawn.
Clomp was halfway through hiding behind Keeri.
"Statues don't open eyes unless things are about to get dramatic!" Clomp hissed. "This is peak narrative danger!"
The statue stirred. Cracks slithered across its starlight-wrapped chains, and a voice—not from its mouth, but from everywhere—spoke like thunder trapped in velvet.
"THE THREAD HAS RETURNED."
"YOU SHOULD NOT BE HERE."
"AND YET… YOU ARE."
Ren stepped back instinctively. His Key of Wanderlight pulsed, hot in his grip. The golden thread it once pointed with now flickered wildly—no longer sure which way to guide him.
"I didn't mean to intrude!" Ren called. "I'm just passing through! I travel now. It's kind of my thing."
The eye blinked again. The ground trembled. A wave of mana distortion rippled outward like a stone dropped into a cosmic lake. Buildings shimmered, trees twisted into dream-mirrors, and the sky itself flickered between day and starlit night.
From the depths beneath the statue, a spiral staircase of white light emerged—curling downward, deeper than the earth should allow.
Keeri stepped forward. "This… wasn't here a moment ago."
Clomp squinted. "It's not even made of stone. That's raw condensed mana. That's memory-light. Someone's dream built this."
Suddenly, a small figure appeared at the staircase's base—hooded, cloaked in shadow, holding a staff topped with a mirror that didn't reflect anything.
The figure looked up. Their face was hidden beneath a veil of starlight.
"Wanderer. Catalyst. You were not in the dreams."
"But now… you're in the rewrite."
The voice was calm, but layered—like multiple timelines whispering at once.
Ren blinked. "Are you the Seer?"
The figure didn't answer immediately.
Instead, they turned and walked deeper down the glowing staircase, into the unknown.
"Follow, or fade. There is no middle path."
Ren looked at Keeri and Clomp.
"Well," he said. "Time to walk into a mysterious underground staircase built from forgotten dreams and guided by a memory-hazed cryptic stranger."
Clomp moaned. "That sentence had nothing safe in it."
Keeri cracked her neck. "Let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes."
They followed.
Below Somniel – The Archive of Broken Tomorrows
As they descended, the staircase coiled like the inside of a seashell. The walls were made of flickering dreams—echoes of people laughing, crying, running, remembering. Ren caught glimpses of his own face in those echoes—different versions of himself.
A Ren who wore armor.
A Ren who wielded fire.
A Ren who was missing an eye and smiling like it didn't matter.
He swallowed. "What is this place?"
The Seer stopped.
"This is the Archive. A collection of futures that never came to be." "And you, Ren Vireo… are not written in any of them."
They entered a wide chamber, where glowing threads of mana floated like constellations. In the center sat a massive orb—half crystal, half mist—surrounded by dozens of empty thrones.
Each throne bore a different symbol.
One of them? A cracked hourglass pierced by roots.
Another? A mask of fire and ink.
And above the orb floated a single phrase, etched in shifting runes:
"He Who Wanders Must One Day Choose."
The Seer turned. This time, their face was visible.
It was a girl—no older than Ren—with silver eyes and a broken crown of thorns hovering above her head. But her expression was one Ren had only ever seen in elders:
Tired. Knowing. Regretful.
"I am the Seer," she said. "But I can no longer see the future."
"Because you exist."
Ren's breath caught.
"Me?"
She nodded. "You… changed something. Or will. Perhaps both."
"You carry a power that doesn't belong to a single world. A thread without anchor. A choice without path."
"And that terrifies the cosmos."
Suddenly, the chamber shook.
The thrones all cracked.
And from the orb rose a monstrous silhouette—burning, shifting, its mouth full of stars and teeth made from forgotten names.
The Seer's silver eyes widened.
"It found us." "The Dream-Eater."