Karl's body trembled as he sat cross-legged on the rooftop, the Royal Azure flames simmering down into a steady, gentle pulse, yet still radiating enough heat to make the air shimmer. The concrete beneath him was warped and bubbling, the smell of molten stone sharp in his nostrils. Despite his immunity to the flames, the destruction around him grounded him in reality. His chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven breaths.
The memory of the girl—the one from the nightmare—clung to him like a shadow, unrelenting. Her small frame, barely twelve years old, huddled over the corpses of a man and a woman. The dual molten-gold pupils in each eye burned into his mind, so impossibly alive that it was like they were staring through the veil of reality itself. Karl had seen countless horrors in his life, faced demons both mechanical and corporeal, yet the image of that girl made his stomach knot and his spine crawl with unease.
He could still hear it—the dry, mocking laughter, echoing from nowhere and everywhere all at once. It had been grotesque in its timing, cruelly contrasting with her grief. He could almost feel the dark aura above the corpses, writhing and pulsating with malevolent intent, as though it had a mind of its own, waiting for her to finish her vow. Her small hand, lifted in solemn promise, had cast a shadow heavier than the rubble-strewn courtyard itself. She had sworn… to kill them all. Whoever "they" were… he didn't know, but the conviction behind her words… it had burned into him.
Karl's mind raced, teeth gritting, as he replayed every detail over and over. The girl wasn't just a child. She was something else—something alive with grief and hatred combined into a force that had left an imprint on him. Each of her molten pupils had been two tiny suns, relentless and focused. She had looked at him, or rather through him, and he couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen more than just his consciousness—she had seen his potential, his fragility, the small cracks in the armor he never let anyone touch.
He had always thought nightmares were fleeting, things that dissipated like smoke in the morning. But this… this felt different. The girl's promise had anchored itself in him, like a seed of ice lodged in his chest, growing roots in his mind. Karl pressed his palms against his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to dislodge the vision. It clung anyway.
"What the hell… was that," he muttered, voice rough, trembling despite his attempt to sound calm. "Why… why her?"
The thought alone made him recoil. Why a child? All the human logic he could muster argued that a twelve-year-old would not be capable of wielding that kind of emotional… weight. And yet the power of her grief, her vow, the dark energy hovering above the corpses—it had been palpable. It had moved the very air of the nightmare. It wasn't a dream. It had felt like a message, a warning.
Agnes' holographic projection flickered beside him, soft cyan light reflecting off the warped concrete. Her hands hovered at her sides, fingers curled slightly, as though she wanted to reach out but wasn't sure if she could. Her voice was calm but carried an undercurrent of concern, and Karl was grateful for that tether to the real world.
"Karl… you're safe," she said, her tone firm, yet gentle. "I… felt you thrashing for nearly ten seconds straight. You could have burned yourself if it weren't for the containment field I integrated with the flames. Are you okay?"
Karl's jaw tightened. He opened his eyes fully, staring down at the still-pulsing Azure fire that curled protectively around them, watching the edges of the molten rooftop shimmer. "I… I don't know, Agnes," he admitted, voice hoarse. "That… that wasn't just a nightmare. I felt it. Every part of it… the girl… the corpses… the laughter. It was real, somehow."
Agnes' projection tilted her head slightly, blinking. "Real… in what sense?" she asked softly, stepping closer. She knew Karl had a tendency to overanalyze everything—he always tried to rationalize the irrational—but this time, her instincts told her it wasn't just his imagination. "You… you were awake in some parts of it, weren't you? Neural traces, heart rate spikes… they weren't normal dream patterns. Your brain activity went off the charts."
Karl groaned, leaning back on his hands, firelight flickering over his tense features. "I know that, Agnes. That's what's terrifying. I've seen things, done things… but this… she was different. The way she looked at me—like she could see straight into me, even the things I try to hide from myself."
Agnes lowered her gaze, her projection shivering slightly as though she too felt the residual weight of the dream. "Karl… I've scanned your neural readings. There's nothing physically harming you. But your stress levels… they're still elevated. I… think your subconscious is holding onto the image. You need to process it, slowly. You need… to let me help you."
Karl clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms. "Process it? Agnes… that girl—she swore something. She swore to kill them all. And I… I don't even know who that means. But I felt it in here," he tapped his chest, "like it wasn't just a promise. Like… like it was anchored in reality, somehow."
Agnes reached out, brushing a hand along his shoulder. Her touch was impossibly soft, holographic yet warm, and Karl flinched at first before letting her presence anchor him. "It's… just a dream," she said, voice steady. "A manifestation of your subconscious fears, trauma, and the unknown around you. Nothing more… nothing less. You're awake now, Karl. You're safe."
Karl shook his head violently. "No. Not just a dream! She wasn't just in my mind… I could feel her—her rage, her grief… that dark aura above the corpses. It wasn't me imagining it. I…" He trailed off, swallowing hard. "I can't… I can't get it out of my head, Agnes. I can't stop seeing her crying, the way her little hands trembled, the way she raised them and swore that vow…"
Agnes' eyes softened, holographic hair flickering in the heat of the flames. "Then we'll do it together. We'll anchor you in reality. You're awake. You're safe. And we'll… we'll make sense of this together."
Karl exhaled, lungs shaking, and finally looked up at her cyan eyes, grateful yet still haunted. "It's… it's more than that," he admitted. "The laughter. The mockery. That aura… it wasn't hers, not really. It was something else… something feeding off her grief, her pain… her promise. And I could feel it, Agnes. I could feel it touching me."
Agnes' projection flickered closer, a sense of urgency creeping into her tone. "Then we'll reinforce your mental protocols, limit access to that—whatever residue is still clinging. I can create a neural buffer while you sleep. But for now… you have to rest. You've pushed yourself too hard."
Karl's gaze drifted toward the flickering horizon, watching the shattered skyline of San Francisco. His hands were trembling, but he felt a strange determination building beneath the fear. "I… I can't just let it go," he said quietly. "I have to… I have to find her. I need to understand why… why she's like that. And I can't ignore it. I won't."
Agnes nodded slowly, projection shimmering with soft cyan light. "Then we'll do it together. But you can't go in like this, Karl. Not yet. We need… strategy. Control. And right now, the priority is surviving the flames and the instability they've caused on this rooftop."
Karl looked down at the molten concrete, already warped beneath the heat, smoke spiraling lazily into the gray afternoon. "Right," he muttered. "…And I can't do anything if I burn myself trying to fight my own mind."
Agnes' hand hovered over his shoulder again, glowing faintly. "Exactly. Control comes first. Then… understanding. The rest will follow. But right now…" She leaned closer, voice lowering, soothing. "…breathe. Anchor yourself. I'm here. You're awake. You're safe. You're mine, Karl. Always."
Karl's chest rose and fell with deliberate effort. The memory of the twelve-year-old girl, her molten-gold pupils, the dark aura above the corpses, and the cruel laughter still pulsed faintly in the recesses of his mind—but Agnes' presence, the warmth of the Royal Azure flames around them, the certainty of her voice… it grounded him.
"I… I'll try," he whispered. "…I'll try to sleep. But…" He swallowed, voice tight with lingering dread. "…I won't forget her. Not the girl. Not that vow."
Agnes' cyan glow flickered, soft and reassuring. "Then let's make sure that vow doesn't break you. Together, Karl. We face it together."
And as Karl settled back onto the uneven, molten rooftop, the Royal Azure flames flowing around him like a living lullaby, his mind wavered between fear and determination, the nightmare a seed of challenge now rooted deep in his consciousness. The girl, the corpses, the molten-gold pupils—they would not leave him. But he knew, with Agnes at his side, he could endure. He had to.
The wind howled across the ridge above the California coast, salt and cold in the air, and the faint hum of eldritch energy threaded through the day. Above the ruins of San Francisco, Karl drifted into an uneasy, haunted sleep—guarded, aware, and anchored by the voice of the only partner who had ever truly kept him alive.