Echoes of the Dreamscape

The world shifts beneath my feet as Raelle leads me deeper into the city. Each step feels like peeling back a layer of reality, a feeling both thrilling and terrifying. The alley we’d come from has faded into a new part of the city, a dimly lit district where buildings float in place, connected by rickety bridges and spiral staircases that twist at impossible angles. Raelle walks briskly, her gaze sharp, like she’s looking for something—or someone.

“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady as I glance around. Shadows flit across the buildings, and the faint hum of voices echoes from somewhere below, like whispers that never quite reach me.

“To find Ferris,” she replies without looking back. “If we’re going to survive here, you’ll need more than my guidance. Ferris is… different. He’ll help you see this place in ways I can’t.”

I swallow, instinctively cautious at the mention of Ferris. Raelle’s tone has a layer of guarded respect I didn’t expect. Whoever Ferris is, he’s someone she takes seriously.

We approach a looming tower at the end of a narrow street. It looks ancient, with walls covered in ivy and strange markings that seem to glow faintly in the shadows. Raelle knocks twice, pauses, and then knocks once more. The door creaks open, revealing a dimly lit interior filled with shelves stacked with glass orbs, each swirling with shifting colours and shapes.

“These are Dream Orbs,” Raelle explains as we step inside. “Fragments of people’s memories, crafted and sold to those willing to pay for a taste of someone else’s life—or someone else’s fears.”

A figure emerges from the shadows, tall and thin with a calm but unsettling presence. His hair falls in messy waves, and his eyes glint with a keen intelligence that makes me feel like he’s sizing me up. This must be Ferris.

“Raelle,” he says, a hint of amusement in his voice. “And this must be the rookie you’ve taken under your wing.”

“Elliot,” Raelle says, nodding to me. “Meet Ferris. He’s a rogue Crafter and probably the only person outside the Guild and Nightwalkers who knows how to survive the Dreamscape without picking a side.”

Ferris tilts his head, studying me intently. “So, you’re awakened,” he muses. “An untrained, raw talent… You have no idea how valuable—or dangerous—that makes you.”

I shift uneasily under his gaze. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“None of us did,” Ferris replies, a strange smile playing on his lips. “But here we are.”

He moves closer, raising his hand to show me a silver ring on his finger, inscribed with a delicate, spiralling symbol that seems to shift in the light. “This is an Anchor,” he says. “A tool we Crafters use to keep ourselves stable in the Dreamscape. Without it, you could easily get lost, especially when manipulating dreams that aren’t your own.”

Raelle crosses her arms. “Ferris, don’t scare the kid off. He’s got potential, and I’d rather not lose him to the Guild or the Nightwalkers just yet.”

Ferris laughs softly, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Relax, Raelle. I’m just giving him fair warning.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a small, polished stone, handing it to me. “This is a temporary Anchor. It’ll help you until you can craft one of your own.”

I take it, feeling its cool weight in my hand. “How do I use it?”

“Focus on it,” he says. “Whenever you feel yourself slipping—when the Dreamscape starts to distort, or when you sense something trying to alter your perception—just focus on the stone. It’ll ground you, keep you tethered to your mind.”

I nod, turning the stone over in my fingers. The smooth surface shimmers faintly, as if something inside it is alive. “Thank you.”

Ferris smirks. “Don’t thank me yet. This world will test you, kid, in ways you can’t even imagine.”

Back on the streets, Raelle explains more as we navigate the maze-like alleyways. “The Dreamscape isn’t just a place where people’s minds overlap,” she says. “It’s like an ecosystem, with rules and creatures that adapt to us as much as we adapt to it.”

“So… the Nightwalkers, the Guild—they’re just groups trying to survive here?”

“Survive and control,” she corrects. “The Guild claims to ‘preserve’ dreams, keep them pure and undisturbed. But they’re fanatical about their beliefs. To them, Crafters who go rogue or refuse their rules are a threat to the Dreamscape’s stability.”

I process this, thinking back to the Nightwalker we encountered earlier. “And the Nightwalkers?”

“They’re opportunists,” Ferris’s voice chimes in, his figure appearing just behind us. He walks with a casual grace, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the surroundings. “They feed on fear, use nightmares to manipulate people. They’re more dangerous than the Guild, though less organized. They work in the shadows, influencing those who sleep. And if they find a powerful enough Crafter, they won’t hesitate to pull them into their ranks.”

The weight of it all settles on me. Dream Crafting isn’t just some game. It’s a dangerous world with factions vying for control, and I’ve somehow stumbled right into the middle of it.

“What about you, Ferris?” I ask, curiosity edging out caution. “Why aren’t you with the Guild or the Nightwalkers?”

He chuckles, glancing at Raelle. “Let’s just say I have… philosophical differences with both. I believe in freedom, in the right to explore this place without being shackled to someone else’s agenda.”

Raelle rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. I get the sense they’ve had this conversation many times before.

Ferris stops suddenly, his gaze fixed on the end of the street. I follow his line of sight and feel a chill run down my spine. A figure stands there, dressed in dark, flowing robes, their face obscured by a hood. I can’t make out any details, but I can feel their gaze, cold and piercing.

“Guild scout,” Ferris mutters under his breath. “They must’ve noticed your arrival, Elliot. They’re here to make you an offer—or a warning.”

The scout steps forward, raising a gloved hand. A voice echoes in my mind, soft but commanding.

“Elliot Norwood. You possess a gift that must be nurtured for the good of all dreamers. Join the Guild, and we will teach you to use your power for protection, to guard the sanctity of the Dreamscape.”

My heart pounds as the words resonate in my mind. The offer sounds enticing, almost reasonable, but I feel the subtle tug behind it—a compulsion like they’re trying to guide me to a choice without letting me see the consequences.

Raelle steps in front of me, her stance defensive. “Back off, Guild pawn. The kid’s got a right to choose his own path.”

The scout’s gaze shifts to her, and a flicker of annoyance passes over their obscured face. “Raelle, always meddling. Your defiance has kept you from realizing your full potential. Do not drag him down with you.”

Ferris places a hand on my shoulder, gently guiding me back. “Let’s go, Elliot. We’re not interested in their sanctimonious lectures.”

As we turn away, I feel a surge of resolve. I don’t fully understand this world yet, but I know one thing: I’m not going to let anyone tell me how to use my abilities. I’ll learn the rules, find my own path, and figure out who I want to be here.

The city fades into the background as we walk away, and I tighten my grip on the Anchor stone. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I’m ready to face them.