Chapter 1
INTERNAL PROTOCOL – DREAMSCAPE OPS // CLASSIFIED SUBJECT:Lucid Instability Containment Procedure
Lucid Dreamer flagged for Tier IV+ Nightmare Entity intersection.
• Dispatch high-ranking field agent under veil protocols
PHASE ONE
Status:Oneiric Contamination Detected in Civilian Zone
• Sudden increase in REM instability
• Environmental anomalies reported (light flicker, shared dreams, sensory bleed)
PHASE TWO
Status:Veil Compromised
• Contamination radius exceeds anchor
• Civilians report Dreamscape intrusion while conscious
• Nightmare agents authorized for neutralization and suppression
PHASE THREE
Status:Existential Breach
• Reality distortion observed across linked corridors
• Command systems destabilized/neutralized
• Dreamscape enters lockdown sequence
• All agents ordered to restrict field ops to active targets only
~*~
Dreamverse. Nightmares Division HQ.
December.
Hunter reformed in front of the Nightmares Division HQ door and didn’t even think of stopping. He pushed it open and strutted in, whistling. “Yo, boss,” he said. “What’s up?”
Clad in his usual full-black suit, sitting behind his onyx desk, Dorian, Chief of the Nightmares Division, barely raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, Hunter, it’s been millennia. Knock at the bloody door before you walk in.”
Hunter shrugged and slumped on the chair on the other side. “We’ve only got the office and the whole bag for about what? A few centuries?” He shrugged again. “I like to keep it wild. How’s the missus?”
Asking him about his fated mate, Amelia, was the easiest and only way to get Dorian’s attention diverted. It wouldn’t save him from heavier crap, but it surely would for his lack of manners–and it worked like a charm. Dorian leaned back and rested his elbows on the chair armrest. “We’re about to settle in Mystic Hollow for Christmas.”
“Try not to get yourself in trouble this year. I don’t particularly care for being in your shoes ever again.”
“Not that I plan on. Besides, Amelia reviewed some of the protective spells with Lachlan.” Dorian’s smile managed to be proud and cruel at the same time. “He didnotenjoy it.”
Hunter chuckled. Knowing Lachlan–Sorcerer Magnus, Mayor of Mystic Hollow, and a Scot made of temper and pride in equal parts–having his brilliancy questioned by a human lawyer was the closest thing to torture. Which in turn, was sure to bring Dorian nothing but pure joy. Hunter suspected Dorian and Lachlan just loved to hate on each other, but he was smart enough not to say that out loud.
Dorian was silent for a second, tuning into something only he could hear. Then he said, “Amelia says to come by the cottage this weekend.”
