Lord of Mysteries: The Dream That Waits

The dreamscape pulsed like a living thing, shifting in waves of color and shadow. The air shimmered with half-formed thoughts, words that were never spoken, and moments that had never quite happened.

Yeaia Nolas stood at the heart of this ever-changing domain. Their black-and-white hair, streaked with ember-like red highlights, seemed to flow as if caught in an unseen current. One of their mismatched eyes glowed red, like a smoldering coal buried deep in a dying fire; the other, silver, reflected the distant and unknowable.

Here, in the Slumbering Realm, nothing was stable—because everything existed in a state of possibility.

Yeaia understood this. It was the very essence of their Pathway, the thing that set them apart.

Yet, this time… something was different.

The dreamscape wasn't simply shifting under their subconscious influence.

It was stirring.

The Slumbering Realm, a domain built upon imagination and dream logic, was awakening. It was no longer just an extension of their mind—it was beginning to act on its own.

And Klein Moretti was watching.

Or was it still Klein?

Yeaia could no longer be certain.

The man standing before them bore Klein's features, his calm expression concealing layers of thoughts. He still wore his signature black trench coat, but something about him felt… distant. Like a painting of a person rather than the person themselves.

And that made sense.

Klein should not be here.

This was the Slumbering Realm, the domain of the Dreamer Pathway. To step into it without belonging to it was an impossibility.

Unless… reality itself was thinning.

"You feel it too, don't you?" Klein's voice was steady, yet carried a weight that pressed down on the dreamscape itself.

Yeaia tilted their head, half-lost in the drifting sensations. "The boundary is thinning."

Klein nodded. "And soon, something will step through."

Yeaia exhaled slowly. "Something… or someone."

The Slumbering Realm had always existed as an abstract, unreachable place. A world where thoughts took shape, where forgotten possibilities lingered, where time hesitated before moving forward.

But this time, the shift was not natural.

Something was pressing against the veil, testing its limits.

Something was trying to wake up.

And the problem with dreams was that sometimes… they didn't stay in the dreamer's control.

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The Tarot Club—Or Something Like It

In a place that did not exist, under the infinite gray fog of The Fool's divine authority, the Monday Tarot Gathering continued.

Justice, The Hanged Man, Magician, The Star, The Moon, and the others sat in their usual positions around the long, wooden table.

The Fool's high-back seat stood empty.

And none of them seemed to notice.

Audrey Hall—Miss Justice—spoke animatedly, discussing some noble gathering. Alger Wilson, The Hanged Man, listened with his usual wariness. Fors Wall, The Magician, was scribbling something in her notebook.

Everything was exactly as it should be.

But if one were to look closely—very, very closely—they might notice small distortions.

The way Audrey's cup of tea never truly reached her lips, yet she always set it down as if she had taken a sip.

The way Derrick Berg, The Sun, blinked a fraction of a second too late every time.

The way the gray fog did not swirl, but instead remained perfectly still.

The Fool—Klein Moretti—was not here.

But the gathering continued as if he were.

A dream of a meeting, sustained by a force none of them could perceive.

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A Question With No Answer

Somewhere between the dreamscape and reality, Klein's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Do you know what this means?"

Yeaia inhaled sharply. The Slumbering Realm was pressing against reality. The Tarot Club was continuing without Klein's presence.

Two contradictions. Two impossibilities.

One answer.

"The boundary is breaking," Yeaia murmured.

Klein nodded, his expression unreadable. "And when it does… neither reality nor dreams will be able to tell the difference."

Yeaia's mismatched eyes flickered.

And the dreamscape shuddered.

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End of Chapter 47

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