The Silent Dreamers
The walls of the Circle whispered as Cuco followed Isabela through a narrow passage carved into the stone. Her candle cast shifting shadows across the walls, where carvings moved as if alive—each flicker of flame revealing glimpses of Dreamers past.
"How many of us are still alive?" Cuco asked.
"Not many," she said. "And even fewer who haven't gone quiet."
They entered a smaller chamber, lower-ceilinged, warmer.
Four beds lined the room. Three were occupied.
Cuco saw them before they noticed him.
Dreamers.
Real ones.
Older than him. Scarred in ways that weren't just physical.
The first was a girl with hair like white fire, even though she couldn't have been more than seventeen. She sat cross-legged, eyes closed, surrounded by floating fragments of glass that spun in midair like satellites.
"The Shardwalker," Isabela said quietly. "She dreamed herself into a mirror world and broke her way back out."
Next was a boy with a jagged smile and a hollow stare. His arms were bandaged from fingertip to shoulder, pulsing with dull green light.
"Call him Echo. Every word he speaks becomes truth—for someone else."
Cuco swallowed. "That sounds... dangerous."
"It is," Isabela said. "That's why he stopped speaking three years ago."
The last was different.
A small figure curled in the corner bed, covered in a thin blanket. They trembled—not from fear, but suppression. Their mark glowed under the sheet, brighter than Cuco had ever seen.
"Who's that?" he asked.
Isabela's voice dropped to a whisper.
"That's Lira. She's the strongest of us."
Cuco frowned. "Then why is she...?"
"She hasn't spoken since she came back from the Other Side."
Cuco's heart froze.
"You mean... the gate?"
Isabela nodded. "She walked through. Alone. When she came back, she said three words."
"What were they?"
Isabela's eyes met his.
> "It saw me."
Suddenly, Lira sat up.
Her eyes locked on Cuco's.
And she spoke—for the first time in years.
> "You're next."
The candle flickered.
And across the wall behind her, the shadows moved.