"Desperation makes us stronger—or it tears us apart completely."
Notty’s fingers worked feverishly over the glowing threads, each weave pulling tighter against her fraying resolve. The astral plane had shifted once again, and though the threads whispered guidance, their song was faint and fragile. Every passing moment felt like a ticking clock in her chest, each beat reminding her that time was slipping away. Ludikrousz was still out there, and the entity’s shadow loomed closer with every breath she took.
“This better be worth it,” she muttered under her breath, her focus unwavering as she tied off another strand.
“Notty,” a voice called out behind her, sharp but familiar. She turned to see a figure stepping out from the fragmented light—a tall, regal being with flowing robes that shimmered like sunlight on water. Its face was smooth and ageless, its eyes glowing like molten gold.
“You again,” she said, recognition flaring. It was Fibbie, the same dream entity that had warned her of the dangers of traveling in dreams. Only now, Fibbie’s presence felt heavier, as though it carried the weight of worlds. “What do you want this time?”
Fibbie inclined its head, its expression unreadable. “To remind you of what you’re fighting for—and to ensure you don’t waste your second chance.”
“I don’t need reminders,” she snapped, though her voice faltered. “I need help.”
Fibbie’s gaze softened, and with a wave of its hand, the threads she had been working on illuminated, brighter and steadier than before. “Then help you shall have. But you must choose wisely, Dreamweaver. This place holds many allies, but few can be trusted.”
Notty hesitated, the weight of her decisions pressing down on her. “How do I know who to trust?”
“You don’t,” Fibbie said simply. “But trust comes with risk. And without risk, you will fail.”
Ludikrousz groaned as he stumbled through the dim corridors of the place, clutching his side where the shadows had burned him. The sting was unbearable, but he gritted his teeth, forcing himself forward. He refused to let Notty fight this alone—not after everything they’d been through.
“Notty!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the surreal expanse. The threads around him shimmered faintly, as if mocking his desperation.
When no response came, he leaned against a jagged structure, his breath heaving. “This place is ridiculous,” he muttered. “Who designed this nightmare, anyway?”
“Not quite a nightmare, though it does have its charm,” a voice replied, smooth and sly. Ludikrousz jerked upright, scanning the shadows until a figure emerged—a tall, serpentine being with scales that shimmered like polished obsidian. Its eyes glowed a deep, unsettling green.
“Who—what—are you?” Ludikrousz demanded, his hand instinctively reaching for a weapon he didn’t have.
The being chuckled, its voice slithering through the air. “Names are irrelevant here, mortal. What matters is purpose. And you… you reek of desperation.”
“Helpful,” Ludikrousz muttered. “Are you here to mock me, or are you actually useful?”
“Depends,” the being replied, circling him like a predator assessing its prey. “Are you willing to bargain?”
“Not a chance,” Ludikrousz shot back, though his voice wavered.
The being stopped, its gaze piercing. “You misunderstood. I have no interest in your soul, mortal. Only in the chaos that you and the Dreamweaver will unleash.”
Ludikrousz narrowed his eyes. “And you think we’ll survive long enough to do that?”
The being smiled, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth. “With my help, perhaps. But first, you must prove you are worthy.”
Back at the center, Notty worked tirelessly to gather what she needed. Fibbie had introduced her to a group of ethereal beings—The Silken Choir—entities that had once served as protectors before the entity’s derailment spread.
The Choir moved with an elegance that bordered on divine, their forms translucent yet impossibly powerful. They spoke in riddles, their voices harmonizing like a haunting melody.
“To fight the shadow, you must weave the unbreakable,” one said, its hands glowing as it conjured a bolt of pure light.
“But the unbreakable comes with a price,” another added, its gaze heavy with meaning. “Are you willing to pay it?”
Notty hesitated. She knew nothing in the place came without consequences, and every bargain she made felt like another thread pulling her deeper into danger. But she had no choice.
“I’ll try to do it whatever it takes,” she said, her voice steady. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
The Choir exchanged glances, their movements eerily synchronized. “Then take this,” one said, handing her a spindle of glowing thread. “It will bind the shadow, but only if your will is stronger than its darkness.”
Notty clutched the spindle, its warmth seeping into her hands. “And Ludikrousz? How do I save him?”
“The threads of fate will guide you,” another replied cryptically. “But beware—his path may not align with yours.”
Notty’s chest tightened, but she nodded. “Thank you.”
As the Choir faded into the light, Fibbie reappeared, its expression grim. “You’ve gathered the tools, Dreamweaver. Now, you must gather your resolve. The entity knows you’re coming, and it will not wait idly.”
“I wouldn’t expect it to,” she replied, tucking the spindle into her satchel. “But I’m ready.”
“Are you?” Fibbie asked, its voice softer now. “You’ve seen what it can do. You’ve felt its power. This isn’t just about magic, Notty. It’s about who you are—and who you’re willing to become.”
She met Fibbie’s gaze, her resolve hardening. “I’m willing to become whatever it takes to save him.”
Ludikrousz stumbled back into the clearing, his newly formed alliance with the serpentine being tenuous at best. The creature had agreed to help, though its reasons remained unclear. For now, Ludikrousz didn’t care. He was just glad to have something resembling an ally.
“Notty!” he called, relief flooding him as he spotted her in the distance.
She turned, her eyes widening as she ran to meet him. “You’re okay!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with equal parts relief and frustration. “I thought I’d lost you.”
“Not that easy to get rid of me,” he said with a weak grin, though the exhaustion in his eyes was clear.
“What happened to you?” she asked, taking in his disheveled state.
“Long story,” he replied, gesturing to the serpentine being behind him. “Met a friend. Don’t ask.”
Notty’s gaze flicked to the creature, her hand instinctively hovering over her satchel. “Is it trustworthy?”
“Define trustworthy,” Ludikrousz said with a shrug. “But it’s on our side for now.”
Notty sighed, nodding. “Good. Because we’re running out of time.”
As they prepared to implement their plan, the area trembled. The threads around them darkened, and the air grew heavy with a suffocating presence.
“It’s here,” Fibbie said, its voice sharp. “The entity knows.”
Before they could react, the shadows surged, engulfing them in a wave of cold, consuming darkness. Notty clutched at her spindle, but the threads slipped from her grasp as the shadow wrapped around her, pulling her under.
Ludikrousz shouted her name, his voice drowned by the roar of the entity’s magic. The last thing Notty saw before the darkness consumed her was his face—defiant, even in the face of the impossible. Notty and Ludikrousz found themselves trapped, the entity’s laughter echoing in their minds.