The Root of All That Dreams

Every night, you are drugged and sent into the dreams of a kingdom that fears you. Beneath the palace, you sleep among silver wards and whispering attendants, forced to soothe nightmares before they can feed the corruption forest surrounding the realm. The people call you a savior. The palace treats you like a weapon. Then someone begins appearing in your dreams. Not a wandering dreamer. Not a fading illusion. Someone who remembers you. With every encounter, traces of them begin crossing into the waking world — muddy footprints beside your bed, bruises from unseen hands, stolen objects, notes written in unfamiliar handwriting. The attendants panic. Your doses increase. The forest grows restless. Whoever is reaching you through the dreamscape should be impossible. And yet, they keep finding you.