"Solara. The most faithful protector of the Great Ash, its deadliest shadow."
Master Elian's words echoed in Kael's mind like a dark omen.
He looked at the black crystal, still faintly pulsing at the center of the Chamber of the Dreamheart, and felt the weight of the world pressing down on him.
If even the founder of the Academy had fallen, what hope was there for him, a boy who, just a few weeks earlier, hadn't even known dreams existed?
"Solara…" Anya broke the silence, her voice a whisper filled with reverence and unspoken sorrow. Kael turned to her. Her eyes, usually so determined, were now clouded by a deep shadow. She approached the crystal, her fingers brushing against its cold surface.
"She was the greatest among us," she continued, her voice barely audible.
"Her spark was like the sun. She could mend entire dreams with a single touch. She was the one who founded the Academy, who wove the first Portals of Sleep, who taught us how to resist the Ash."
She paused, a shiver running down her spine.
"But she fell too. The Ash didn't destroy her. It corrupted her. It transformed her. Now she protects what she once sought to destroy."
Kael could hardly imagine such power. "How can anyone fight someone like that?" he asked, disbelief in his voice.
Master Elian stepped forward, his aged yet strong figure outlined against the greenish light. "You don't fight her with brute force, Kael. Solara has become an extension of the Ash. Every direct attack strengthens her. We must find the Heartpulse of the Great Ash and destroy it. Only then will Solara, and the other Guardians, lose their power. But reaching the Heartpulse… that is something none of us has ever managed to accomplish."
"Why?" Kael asked.
Elian sighed, his gaze resting once more on the carved banner depicting Kael's garden.
"The Heartpulse lies within a part of the dream realm so ancient and primal that it's almost unreachable. It's hidden behind the Seven Veils of Dream, layers of pure dream energy and illusion. Each veil is a trial, a filter that rejects those who fail to grasp the true nature of dreams. And the Guardian of each veil… is a projection of the Ash, taking the form of our deepest fears, our bitterest regrets.
Solara perfected those defenses, made them impregnable. Many Keepers have tried, Kael. None have returned."
Kael felt his breath catch. Seven veils. Projections of fear. It sounded like a suicide mission.
"But your spark, Kael," interrupted Lyra, the short-haired young woman who had stepped forward, her bright, silvery eyes fixed on him, "has a unique resonance with the Ash. Master Elian said so. You might be the one able to cross the veils."
Kael turned toward her. Lyra was younger than Anya, but her expression was serious and resolute.
"What does 'unique resonance' mean?" he asked, curiosity winning over fear.
"The Ash feeds on what is broken, on what has withered," Lyra explained, gesturing toward the carvings on the walls. "Your loss, your sister, is so deep that it's created a kind of… reversed pull between you and the Ash. You're like a flame burning in a desert, and because of that, the Ash is obsessed with you. It seeks to consume you, yet at the same time, you can interact with it in ways other Keepers cannot."
"It could be an advantage," concluded Elian, "or your undoing. We saw it in the vision. Your fate is intertwined with that of the Ash. We can't ignore this any longer."
Kael thought of the girl at the fountain, of the old woman, of his own dream-garden now glowing faintly once again. He felt a stab of responsibility, but also a determination he had never known before.
It was an opportunity, terrifying yet real, to understand and maybe, just maybe, to mend what had been broken.
"So what do we do?" Kael asked, his voice steady.
Elian nodded, as if he had expected that question. "First, you must strengthen your connection to your Dormant Fire. Anya has done well, teaching you to mend small fractures, but you'll need greater strength and a deeper understanding. Then, you must learn to navigate the Seven Dream Veils, to withstand the illusions and temptations they'll present. And finally, you must face Solara."
"You won't be alone," added Anya, her gaze hardening with ancient resolve. "I'll guide you. And others will help. Lyra, for example, is skilled in the art of dream displacement—she can create diversions and escape routes. And an elder Keeper, Master Finn, will teach you how to defend yourself from the shadows, to ensure the Ash doesn't drain you completely."
In the days that followed, Kael's training grew more intense. He spent his waking and dreaming hours in an exhausting cycle of meditation, practice, and theory.
Anya took him into controlled dream corridors, sections of the Academy where the environment could be shaped to simulate the challenges of the Veils.
One day, Kael found himself in a corridor that simulated an illusion of loss. The walls were made of mirrors reflecting his deepest fears: he saw Elara's face fading, memories slipping away like sand through his fingers.
The air was thick with despair.
"Feel the fear, Kael," said Anya, her calm voice echoing down the corridor. She moved with serene composure, immune to the projections. "Don't push it away. Let it pass through you. Then, focus your Dormant Fire on it, not to destroy it, but to transform it. Remember: fear is only a shadow. It isn't real."
Kael closed his eyes, feeling the crushing weight around him. His heart pounded.
He opened his eyes and reached toward one of the most vivid projections, Elara dissolving before him.
His golden spark spread outward, not to mend, but to stabilize, to resist disintegration. It was a different kind of exercise, one requiring unyielding mental discipline.
Slowly, the projection of Elara stopped fading. Her outline became more defined, though still translucent. It wasn't a repair; it was the solidification of his will.
Another time, Kael faced a corridor of apathy, his greatest enemy. The environment was colorless, gray, and monotonous. Silence pressed on him, and he felt his motivation draining away, as if there was nothing left worth fighting for.
"This is the most insidious veil," Anya told him. "The Ash doesn't always attack. Sometimes it simply drains you, leaves you without purpose. There's nothing to mend here. You must find your reason for being, Kael. The spark isn't just power, it's your very essence."
Kael stood motionless for a long moment, feeling the weight of indifference. Then he thought of Elara's smile, of the light in the child's hand, of the determination in Anya's and Lyra's eyes, and the gravity in Elian's words.
It wasn't for himself. It was for them. And for Elara. He couldn't give in.
And in his dream garden, faint though it was, the light had never gone out. Taking a deep breath, he felt his Dormant Fire pulsing, not as an explosion, but as a steady, unyielding warmth spreading from his chest.
It was resilience, the strength to endure and overcome.
Meanwhile, Lyra began teaching him the basics of dream displacement.
She brought him into small dream spaces, simulations of labyrinths, where Kael had to learn to sense the "seams" in the dream fabric, the weak points where a Keeper could open a temporary rift, an escape path, or a diversion.
"It's not about fighting," Lyra explained, her silvery eyes gleaming with intelligence as she moved with dancer-like grace. "It's about confusion, misdirection. The Dark Guardians are creatures of perception. If you alter their perception of the dream realm, you can create openings where none exist, or seal those you don't want them to see."
Kael found this surprisingly difficult. It demanded a kind of mental agility he didn't naturally possess. He tried to visualize the seams, to feel the vibrations, but at first it was like trying to grasp smoke. Then Lyra advised him not to overthink it.
"Let your instinct guide you. Feel the flow of the dream, Kael. It's like a river, you don't create it, you redirect it."
Finally, he met Master Finn.
A silent man with a melancholy air, yet a profound understanding of the Ash. He took Kael into sections of the Deep Foundation where the air was colder, denser, almost tangible with the Ash's presence.
"The Ash isn't just a destructive force," Finn told him, his low, rough voice echoing through corridors whose walls were coated in a dull darkness that Kael could almost feel itching on his skin. "It's a void. And the void seeks to fill itself by consuming. You must learn to protect your core, Kael, to build a barrier against its drain."
Finn taught him advanced focus techniques, visualizations in which Kael had to picture his Dormant Fire as an indestructible flame at his center, surrounded by a shield of will.
When the simulated Ash attacked, manifesting as growing cold or crushing apathy, Kael had to strengthen that shield, focusing on his resolve.
It wasn't an attack, but endurance.
It was mentally exhausting, often leaving him drained and dizzy.
"The Dark Guardians don't just strike," Finn explained. "They drain. Every touch, every word, tries to thin your flame. You must keep your integrity."
"Yes, I remember," Kael murmured. "When that Guardian touched me, it felt like it tore out my heart—my very life."
As the weeks passed, Kael felt his Dormant Fire growing.
It was no longer just a spark, but a small brazier, pulsing with steady warmth. His dream garden, in sleep, was no longer a desolate wasteland.
The soil was still dry, but the light at its center had become a real flame, and around it, the ground seemed darker, firmer, as if beginning to absorb that light.
There were no flowers yet, no grass, but there was a promise of life returning.
One evening, after another grueling day of training, Kael found himself in the Chamber of the Dreamheart. Master Elian and Anya were there, staring at the black crystal, which pulsed faster than before. Lyra stood aside, tense.
"The Ash is moving," said Elian gravely.
"It's preparing an assault. We can feel it. The Heartpulse is more active. Its influence is spreading."
Kael approached the crystal. He could feel its pull and its repulsion. His bond with the Ash was strange indeed.
He reached out toward its smooth, cold surface.
"Master," Kael said, his voice steady, "I'm ready. I'm ready for the Seven Veils."
Elian turned to him, his aged eyes glowing with a new spark of hope.
"You're not entirely ready yet, Kael. But time is running short. The Ash doesn't wait. There's one last thing you must do before facing the Veils. You've learned to mend dreams, to solidify your will, to defend yourself. But to face Solara, and the Heartpulse, you'll need a skill only a few Keepers have ever mastered. You must learn to pierce the corruption itself."
Kael frowned. "Pierce the corruption?"
"Yes," Elian replied. "Solara is no longer the Keeper we knew, but neither is she entirely Ash. There's still something of her left, a resonance of her old flame buried beneath layers of darkness. And the Heartpulse itself isn't pure corruption, it's the core, the purest part of a primordial dream that's been tainted. To destroy it, you can't just strike at the shadow. You must find its true essence, its origin, and unravel the knot of corruption."
Elian gestured toward a small wooden door set into the cave wall.
Had it always been there?
Kael had never noticed it before…
It blended so perfectly with the surrounding rock that it seemed part of it, radiating an aura of ancient, dormant power.
"This door," said Elian, "leads to the Sanctuary of the First Dream. It's a place where the first Keepers explored the origins of dreaming, and of corruption. There you will face one final, crucial trial. But you will not go alone. Anya and Lyra will go with you. We'll show you the first step toward confronting the deepest shadow."
Kael stared at the door. Beyond it, he could sense the echo of dangerous knowledge, of power beyond mere restoration.
It was the next step, the most perilous one, toward confronting the heart of the Ash.
He was afraid, yes… but resolute. He had to do this.
For Elara. For both worlds.