"Let's check the gate first before going to that door," the boy said, his voice uncertain as he rubbed the back of his neck. "It gives me the creeps… like, I feel something bad's gonna happen if I touch it."
The small dragon tilted his head, golden eyes glinting "You and your feelings again," he muttered, fluttering his small wings in irritation. Still, there was a hint of agreement in his tone. The door of light had been unsettling even for him, and though he didn't feel the same suffocating pressure, he trusted the boy's instincts—reluctantly.
They left the grand hall and made their way toward the outer courtyard, where the heavy gate stood. As they walked, the strange colors of the sky bled through the windows—violet mixing into emerald, streaks of crimson chasing through bands of gold like spilled paint swirling in water.
It was beautiful. But the longer they looked at it, the more wrong it felt.
The gate loomed ahead—massive, ancient, and ironbound, its black metal dull with age. To one side, a narrow stone stairway curved along the tower wall, leading upward.
"Hey, look!" the boy said, pointing at it. "Maybe we can get a better view up there."
The dragon flapped his wings, hovering. "You sure that's safe?"
"Nope." The boy grinned. "But I'm curious."
He started up the stairs, the dragon reluctantly following behind. The steps creaked beneath the boy's boots, echoing faintly into the mist above. When they reached the top of the wall, the sight that awaited them froze them both in place.
The entire horizon was wrong.
The same sky—swirled with colors no human language could name—stretched endlessly in every direction. There was no sun, no moon, only drifting clouds that shimmered faintly, as if lit from within. And below…
Below was not ground.
Only clouds—gray and shifting, rolling like a storm that never ended.
It was as if the castle floated in the middle of a painted sky, an island in a sea of color and fog.
"Wha… what is this?" the boy whispered. "Where's the land? Where are we supposed to go?"
The dragon didn't answer. His golden eyes darted across the horizon. The silence here wasn't peaceful—it was heavy, expectant.
Then, through the fog, something moved.
At first, it looked like a shadow stretching across the clouds—long, shapeless, almost like smoke. But then it reached upward, forming into something half-human, half-nightmare. Its limbs were too many, its body constantly shifting, dissolving into mist and reforming again. Where its face should have been, there were only eyes—hundreds of them, opening and closing in the same instant.
The boy froze, unable to breathe. His heart pounded against his ribs.
It was reaching for them.
The thing extended its long, blackened arm toward the wall, its fingertips brushing the gray fog barrier that surrounded the castle. The mist rippled like disturbed water, but the creature could not pass. Every time it tried, the fog surged outward and pushed it back, until finally it sank again into the depths below, vanishing into the swirling clouds.
Neither of them spoke. For a long moment, only the sound of the wind moved between them.
Then the dragon said softly, "Whatever that was… it's not peaceful."
The boy swallowed, his hands shaking. "Let's get down. Now."
They ran back down the narrow stairs, hearts pounding, every step echoing too loudly in their ears. When they reached the bottom, they didn't stop until they were inside the castle again, the great gate sealed behind them.
"Hah… hah…" the boy gasped, leaning against the wall. "We should be… good inside, right?"
The dragon didn't answer right away. His small wings twitched nervously as he glanced back toward the gate. "Let's hope so." Then, quieter, "Boy… let's go to that door."
The boy looked up in disbelief. "What? Are you serious? After that?"
"We're trapped here," the dragon said firmly. "We can't go outside—the fog won't let us. The sky's not real, and the ground's gone. The only thing we haven't properly checked is that door. Whatever this place is, that door might be the only way out."
The boy fell silent. He wanted to argue—to yell that the door terrified him—but the dragon was right. There was nowhere else to go.
He sighed deeply, slumping his shoulders. "Okay, fine… but don't blame me if something happens."
They began walking back toward the grand staircase, trying to distract themselves with meaningless chatter. The dragon fluttered beside him, talking about everything except the door.
"Hey, we could use the kitchen tools to make apple juice," the dragon said suddenly, voice too bright to be natural.
"Apple juice?" The boy snorted softly. "That's your plan to survive?"
"Better than standing around being scared."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "You're hopeless."
The boy laughed weakly. "You're just trying to stall too."
"...Maybe."
But the laughter didn't last.
As they reached the great hall again, the glowing door loomed before them, brighter than before. The light pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat, casting gentle ripples across the marble floor.
"Wish me luck," the boy muttered, taking a hesitant step forward.
The dragon hovered anxiously beside him. "Go on then… I'll cheer from here. Goooo!"
The boy rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. Then, gathering his courage, he reached out.
The moment his fingers brushed the door, the world shattered.
Pain—blinding, all-consuming—rushed through his head. It was as though something immense and formless was trying to pour itself into his mind all at once. Images, sounds, whispers—all slamming into him like waves. He screamed, clutching his head as his knees buckled. Blood trickled from his nose, his eyes, his ears.
The dragon shouted calling out to him—but he couldn't hear. The world tilted, colors folding into each other until everything became a blur.
Then—silence.
When he opened his eyes again, he wasn't in the castle.
He stood in the middle of a city. Skyscrapers loomed around him, cracked and burning. The sky was dark, streaked with fire. People screamed, running through the streets—but their faces were twisted with fear and despair.
The ground cracked open beneath them, glowing red like molten veins. From the fissures, monstrous shapes emerged—humanoid, but warped. Their flesh rippled with countless eyes, their limbs stretched unnaturally. One man fell to his knees, screaming as his body bulged and tore, and from his chest something crawled out—slick, wet, and covered in tiny arms.
The boy staggered back, his breath catching. "What… what is this…?"
He could feel the world itself collapsing—the air trembling, the buildings melting into shadow. Above, meteors rained down, crashing into the earth with thunderous impact.
He ran. He didn't know where to, only that he had to move—but every street he turned down, every alley, led him to the same sight: people turning into monsters, the world falling apart.
Then, through the chaos, he saw the sky crack open.
A vast eye, golden and endless, stared down at the world. Its gaze was neither cruel nor kind—it was simply knowing.
He felt his mind unraveling under that gaze. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't.
And then—
A whisper.
Soft, almost gentle, brushing against his thoughts like the wind through leaves.
"Sequence 9: Seer."
The voice echoed inside his skull, ancient and infinite, as if the words themselves were made of truth. His vision blurred—the city dissolving, the chaos fading into white.
He gasped, eyes flying open. He was lying on the marble floor of the castle again. The dragon hovered beside him, frantic, shaking him with tiny claws.