And he could not sit idly by and wait to see what new horrors would continue to eat away at his kingdom.
His reflection shimmered in the basin —not the gilded king the world knew, but something rawer. Older. His soul.
The gods wanted destruction.
He would give them hesitation instead.
Dreamwalking would come at a price, he would need to forfeit parts of his soul in order to enter hers. But he was willing, this served as a cleaner solution than open war and chaos to obtain her. Saving the lives of his people in tow.
He would haunt her dreams, he'd twist the narrative, redirect her loyalty. It wouldn't happen overnight — Alarik would guide her gently, until she turned from Kael on her own and chose him instead.
He exhaled, and whispered a word in the lost tongue of dreamwalkers.
The water flared silver. His body went still.
And Alarik slipped between the seams of the world.
The dream was soft at first.
A ripple of white sheets. A flicker of candlelight. Maris lay beneath layers of velvet, one arm thrown above her head, hair spilling across the pillow like ink. The room twisted in fragments, her memory filling in what she knew: the stone walls of Nythra, the soft coals in the hearth, a book fallen open beside her.
She did not know he was there. Not yet.
Alarik stood in the shadows beyond the hearth, cloaked in his own woven illusion. The dream twisted around his presence, letting him in.
She looked the same as he remembered, more perhaps. Luminous even in sleep. Fragile and unknowingly dangerous.
He stepped forward slowly.
Maris stirred.
In the dream, her eyes opened.
But this was not like waking. Not truly. Her gaze was hazed.
Alarik’s voice was gentle.
“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?”
She blinked. “Who — who are you?”
“You’ve read the words. In the books. The ones not meant to be there.”
Maris sat up, dream-fabric shifting around her form like smoke. Her breathing changed.
“Am I dreaming?” she whispered.
He gave a sad smile. “You are.”
“Then you’re not real.”
Alarik tilted his head. “ I’m something real enough.”
Maris shook her head. “I don’t —understand.”
“You will,” he said.
He stepped closer, and the fire did not cast a shadow behind him.
