Kael had heard legends of hidden places where dream magic was studied and protected. It was said such a place existed, the Academy of Shattered Dreams, almost mythical, a sanctuary for those who had lost their dreams, or sought to guard them. It had always sounded like a children's tale, but the old woman's words carried a truth he could no longer deny.

He was a practical man.

He knew he couldn't just knock on a door and expect answers. It would take money, influence, or a calculated risk.

Kael decided it was worth it. He took his meager savings, the ones he had painstakingly gathered for years, money once meant for a future that now felt meaningless without his memories.

He asked around. Most people laughed. But one name kept coming up: Lysander.

He tracked him down: a gaunt-faced man whose eyes seemed to have seen too many shadows. He ran a small stall in a side market, selling forgotten trinkets and "emotional relics"; little objects that had absorbed their owners' dreams, now dull and lifeless. Kael approached the counter.

"I'm looking for information," he said quietly.

Lysander looked him over, a bitter smile creasing his lips. "Everyone is. The valuable kind always comes with a price."

"The Academy of Shattered Dreams," Kael said the words, feeling a flicker of nervousness.

Lysander's smile vanished. His eyes sharpened. "That name isn't spoken lightly, boy. It could draw unwanted attention." His gaze fell on Kael's palm, as if he could see the itch beneath the skin. "You have the spark, don't you?"

Kael hesitated. "Maybe."

Lysander laughed, a dry, joyless sound. "Then yes, you deserve the information. Or perhaps you're just signing up for a one-way trip."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "The Citadel, the Academy of Shattered Dreams, isn't a place you can walk to. It lies between dreams, woven in the veil between waking and sleeping. The only way to reach it is through someone who can guide you across the Portals of Sleep. And for that..." he added, gesturing toward a crystal vial filled with iridescent liquid on a shelf behind him, "...you'll need an Extract of Deep Lucidity. It'll keep your consciousness intact as you travel through dreams. But it's expensive."

Kael eyed the vial. He knew Lysander was overcharging, but he felt he had no choice. "How much?"

Lysander paused.

He looked Kael in the eye, narrowing his own, as if studying the unconscious signals on his face. Then he tilted his head to the left, the left corner of his mouth lifting slightly, drawing a half-smile that creased the skin near the Informer's left eye.

"All your savings, boy. And a small favor, once you've reached your goal," Lysander replied, his voice laced with implicit threat. "If you ever do, of course."

Kael hesitated only a moment, then pulled out his small leather pouch and spilled his coins onto the counter.

The coins slipped through his fingers with a weight that wasn't only metal; it was the money he'd promised Miriam. 'It's for her, in the end,' he told himself. 'If I find the Academy, I might actually be able to save her.'

It was nearly everything he owned. Lysander swept the coins up greedily, then handed over the vial.

"Drink this, and you'll fall into the deepest sleep. It will grant you clarity. But remember: the Portals of Sleep are not for the faint of heart. They can show you your worst fears, your deepest regrets. And once you enter... you'll never be the same."

He narrowed his eyes and went on: "It isn't the extract that opens the way, boy. The way is already inside you, in your garden. The extract only keeps you from losing yourself once you find it."

Kael took the vial, wrapped it in cloth, and tucked it into his bag. He looked up. Lysander turned his head slightly to the right, still watching him, as if silently asking what else he was waiting for.

"What favor are you talking about?" Kael asked.

"I'll tell you when the time is right," Lysander replied, a glint in his eye. "When you have something worth stealing from the Ash itself."

The boy lowered his head slightly, meeting Lysander's eyes in a parting nod, then turned and walked away, heading home. Every now and then he checked to make sure the bag didn't bump against the stalls or passersby, afraid of breaking the vial inside.

That night, after Uncle Borin had gone to bed, Kael sat on his own bed. The extract was cold and slightly viscous, tasting of metal and wilted flowers. He drank it. Then he lay down, staring at the ceiling. Drowsiness overtook him quickly, but it wasn't ordinary sleep. It was dense, heavy, pulling him down into an abyss.

His dream garden unfolded. Still barren, beneath a gray sky. But this time, something was different. At the center of the faint glow, now slightly larger, a single dark fissure had opened in the ground, like a scar. It pulsed faintly with violet light.

It was a Portal of Sleep.

A primal fear gripped him: this was the point of no return.

He could ignore it, wake up, and return to his empty life. Or he could face the unknown. The memory of Elara, faint and colorless though it was, urged him on. And hope, that small, reckless spark, pushed him forward.

He gathered his courage and stepped closer to the fissure. The violet glow brightened, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

'I'm doing this!'

With a deep breath, Kael threw himself into the abyss.

It wasn't falling. It was being pulled through a vortex of distorted colors and sounds, a tunnel of sensation where time and space lost all meaning. He felt his consciousness strain, almost threatened, but the Extract of Deep Lucidity kept his mind tethered.

He saw flashes: his childhood, Elara's laughing face, her final moments, the old woman's trembling hand, Lysander's eyes. Each image was a test, a distraction.

His stomach turned, nausea rising, his head spinning. He gritted his teeth, trying to resist.

Then the vortex subsided.

The feeling of nausea lasted a few more seconds. He breathed deeply, trying to bring his surroundings into focus as the dizziness passed.

Kael found himself in a place that defied all logic. It wasn't a garden; it wasn't a city.

It was a crossroads of dreams.

Around him, dozens, perhaps hundreds, of "dream corridors" stretched in every direction, each glowing with a different light, each resonating with its own atmosphere: the scent of a forest, the crash of ocean waves, the hum of a crowded metropolis. They were the dreams of others, an infinite labyrinth of minds.

Kael was disoriented. How could he find the Citadel in this chaos? It felt hopeless.

'I have to go somewhere... I can't stay here. One direction is as good as any other.'

He headed toward a verdant corridor. The scent of grass began to fill his nostrils; the tunnel around him remade itself, showing trees, grass, low vegetation. Birdsong and the buzzing of insects surrounded him, along with the croaking of frogs.

He stared open-mouthed at the shimmering walls of the tunnel, as if he had stepped inside a tube of water. He stopped and touched the wall; concentric ripples spread out from his finger, like the surface of a calm lake disturbed by a touch.

He followed the wall upward as it curved to become the ceiling, its arched shape leading to the opposite wall, then curving down toward the floor. He was in a sort of circular tunnel that ran forward for a few meters before curving to the right.

The beauty of the corridor, the colors, the sounds, the scents, was almost too perfect. And then he heard the voice: 'You are weak, Keeper of the Dormant Fire. Your fire is only an ember. You are here only for your own pain.'

Kael looked around. He saw no one. "Who are you?" he asked aloud, his voice seeming to vanish into the vast space.

'I am your truth,' the voice replied, and a dark shadow, vaguely human in shape but with eyes burning bright red, emerged from one of the dream corridors.

'What is that?' Kael thought. Eyes wide, a hollow in his stomach. Terror crept through him like poison. 'Why did I even come here? Who talked me into this?!'

It was tall, imposing, carrying with it an aura of bitter cold that chilled Kael to the marrow. Its red eyes locked onto him, and Kael felt an icy claw close around his heart.

'You will never be worthy of the Academy. Your dream is broken beyond repair. And I have come to make sure of it.'

The shadow advanced, and Kael understood.

These had to be the Dark Guardians the old woman had spoken of.

And they weren't there to help him. Their very presence drained the light from the surrounding corridors, leaving trails of darkness in their wake. Kael was alone, in an unknown place.

And a terrifying entity had found him.