“...Dream Hunters…? No— They always have a few of the Elite Guard stationed there—”

The man leaned against the wall and solemnly shook his head, folding his arms over his chest. With a sigh, he started, “They’re gone now. I’m not sure what happened, but chances are, they were either killed or they fled.”

“‘Killed?’ That’s not…” Irin trailed off as he began to scrutinize the man’s face, “How can I trust what you’re saying right now?”

“That’s your choice,” he replied softly, “I have no role in the Outer Realms’ happenings. However, I am willing to offer my aid to those who pass through this world.”

“Are you this world’s guardian or something?”

He chuckled, “I might as well be. How long has it been… Ah, right. I’ve been the only one watching over this place for 88 years now.”

There was a dulled glaze that washed over his eyes in the silence that followed.

“I see…”

“Don’t look so sorry for me. It’s always been my choice to stay. After all, there’s still things I can take care of here.”

“But, I thought you said you were the only one here?”

“Haha, I don’t mean people. Take that flower, for example,” he pointed at the pot sitting atop the desk.

Inside was a pale, five-petal flower that seemed to play tricks on Irin’s eyes, intermittently glowing with a gentle light.

“I’ll leave you alone to rest for a while. In the meantime, I’ll be in the gardens outside. Please call for me if you need anything.”

“Wait! I don’t have the time to rest right now— I need to head to the Brink. I’m sure… I’ll find someone I’m looking for there.”

The man paused, looking over Irin in earnest.

“With the Outpost in the state it is right now, you won’t have much luck proceeding, especially in your current condition. If you insist on continuing, however, I will tell you all I can once I return.”

Irin clenched his teeth. His heart desperately wanted to continue, but right now, his body and mind both knew the man was right.

“Before you go— Can you just tell me what I should call you by?”

“Ah, yes, my name… It’s Ren.”

Irin mouthed that name, nodding his thanks before leaning against the wall with his shoulder.

“The Confluence’s reinforcements will arrive soon… I’m sure of it…”

His vision began to blur, and before he knew it, he had fallen back asleep. When he next awoke, he was no longer leaning against the wall—now laying on his back under a blanket, facing the ceiling.

“...My back doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He tilted his head, noticing that Ren had come back and was now working with some clinking materials at his desk, illuminated by a lantern’s light. Its glow seemed to fade out the window—a solitary yet tranquil darkness broken by moonlight.

The bed creaked under him as he shifted his weight to prop himself up.

“You’re up again. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better… You’re the reason my back healed so fast, right?”

Ren nodded.

“Thank you.”

He stood up and turned towards Irin, revealing an array of various herbs and plants stored in glass jars on the desktop as he moved aside.

“You were out for a few hours, but it’s also thanks to that rest that you’ve recovered as much as you have.”

Irin swung his legs over the side of the bed and slid off, putting his boots back on.

“Still, you’re the one who gave me shelter. If there’s anything I can do before—”

“Don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. Now, I know it’s pretty late, but would you care to join me for a stroll? You’re free to ask whatever you’d like along the way.”

He pulled a second unlit lantern down from where it was hanging on the wall. Then, with a flick of his finger, a wood panel of the walls split apart, dropping a small, twisted stick into his palm. He stuck that improvised match into the lit lantern, transferring its warmth into the other, before smothering the lingering embers on the stick.

“So he’s a Shaper too… but, wait… wouldn’t that mean this house is made from shaping?”

Ren led the way out the curtain-covered door with Irin following close behind. 

“The moon is quite beautiful today, isn’t it?”

Irin nodded in agreement, “Yes, the stars as well. We never see them this clearly in the Confluence.”

“You could say that’s one of the reasons I’m still who I am here. When you coop up in one place for so long, even mere stargazing can keep you company.”

He was right. Irin knew he would have to leave this man’s kindness soon enough if he wanted to continue towards the Brink, but standing here, he didn’t feel too alone on this journey.

“I have a feeling that the friend I’m looking for would share your perspective.”

“Is that so? I’d like to meet them someday then.”

Outside, it seemed that Ren’s abode was the only one in the area, being perched atop a grassy, terraced hill with several winding stone paths leading down. Off in the distance along one of those paths, he could see what seemed to be a flickering sea of lights.

“Is that a city over there?”

Ren laughed, replying, “I don’t have the knowledge nor time to keep up a whole city. You’ll see when we get there.”

As they began to descend the stone steps, Irin posed his first question.

“So, what actually happened to the Outpost?”

“As I said before, it’s been overtaken by Dream Hunters. However, what I haven’t yet told you is the identities of those occupying the city. As far as I’m aware, among their ranks, a Watcher has made their presence known.”

Irin vividly remembered hearing stories of individuals bearing that title. Adventurers back in the Confluence occasionally mentioned them with the same tone they’d use to tell chilling stories about haunting specters or literal demons.

“Is it true that the Watchers can directly absorb extracted shaping?”

“I haven’t gone personally yet, so I can’t give you a proper answer. Based on the stories of those that’ve come before you, though, it seems those rumors are true.”

Dream Hunters that bore the ability to directly integrate extracted abilities with their own existence rather than wielding them externally—or Watchers, as they had come to be called—reported directly to the leader of the Dream Hunters. It was understood that that leader personally selected each Watcher, and with the general belief that their leader was a member of the Nine Dreamers, their respective identities were seen more as myths rather than mere assistants.

“The Confluence might hold back for now, then… We’ve had a steady truce with the Dream Hunters for who knows how long, but if they’re taking aggressions like these…”

“When did a Watcher last appear in public…” Irin muttered to himself before catching Ren’s sideways glance and brushing the topic away. 

“But… what would happen to me if the Confluence’s forces were to find me out here…?”

He continued with his next question, “How long have they been in the Outpost?”

“Since the first few frenzied travelers arrived here, it’s probably been just about a couple days. I suspect they’re attempting to manipulate or alter the world of the Outpost on a structural level… I’ve never seen so many people end up passing through this place, and some in conditions worse than yours as well.”

“That lines up with the timing of Elena’s arrival as well…”

They had now reached the bottom of the hill, continuing onwards as a cool breeze drifted through the plains from a forest to their right.

“Is there any way for me to make it to the Brink without going through the Outpost?”

“There… normally is, but for some inexplicable reason, everyone who’s passed through here before you has ended up in the Outpost without fail. It’s for that reason I believe the Dream Hunters are stretching their authority to interfere with these worlds themselves. I’m sorry to say, but your best shot would likely be heading back inwards and choosing a different route.”

Irin clenched his fist, but before he could reply, the lights from before now came fully into view.

“They’re… flowers, just like the one on your desk.”

Ren smiled.

“Yes, these are my main reason for staying here.”

As their stems ebbed and flowed in the wind, their vibrance pulsated in sync—a skyward luminosity that seemed to reply to the starlight above.

Irin approached a cluster along the side of the path and knelt down.

《Eligible targets have been identified. Proceed with conversion?》

“What…?”

Irin flinched, his hand tentatively drawing away from the flowers.

“Do these contain Possibility?”

“So you’ve noticed… In the stillness of the night, the voices contained within the petals of these flowers—Aetherflowers, as I’ve come to call them—are free to speak out to the heavens.”

Irin stumbled over his words before replying, “I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand what you’re saying—”

“What makes a flower any less than a body?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really understand what you’re saying—”

“I suppose it’s different in other worlds… Think of it like this: Every person inhabits a space of Possibility that leaks from them and influences their surroundings, regardless of whether or not they’re conscious of it. The more inhabited a world is, the more individual leakage clashes with others, and the result is pressure that compresses anything not actively resisting it.”

“So… you’re saying the reason dream shards appear is…” he trailed off.

Ren’s expression didn’t confirm nor deny Irin’s conclusion.

“Here, there is only myself. As a result, any medium can come to house ‘fallen’ dreams… It is poetic, though, that they seem to prefer only these flowers.”

“Dreams…” Irin muttered, “But, what exactly do you do with these flowers?”

“I am a gardener—a caretaker. I nurture them to bloom, but unfortunately, all that is stagnant is destined to fade. Yet, even in a fading dream, there exists beauty. For that reason, I will act as their guardian until the day they are ready to return to Possibility and reenter the cycle of dreams.”

“This… doesn’t make any sense… What do you do when they turn into dream leeches after fading, then?”

Ren’s expression softened as he knelt down beside Irin, extending his hand to brush against the petals of one of the flowers.

“That’s simple. They don’t.”