The well 3

Elie let out a dry, brittle laugh, like someone who hadn't had water in days. There was no humor in it—only the fear of what lurked beyond.

He felt it.

That thing in the fog—no, that shape—was watching them. It didn't move, but its presence pressed against his mind, heavy and unshakable.

Another tremor rumbled beneath them, stronger this time. The red grass rippled away from the black sea as if recoiling in fear.

"W-we need to go." Cypher's voice was low, almost uncertain. He felt it too—that unbearable sensation of being exposed, like an insect under a magnifying glass.

But where?

Everything about this world felt hostile. The sky twisted in unnatural patterns, the trees leaned at impossible angles, and the grass shifted beneath their feet as though waiting for the right moment to ensnare them. The entire landscape was a trap, ready to spring at the slightest misstep.

With unsteady hands, Cypher bent down and picked up his dagger, then slowly made his way toward Elie.

"We need to go now."

Elie glanced down at Cypher before looking back at the mist in the distance. For him, Cypher was an anchor in this madness. If he lost himself, Cypher would be there to snap him out of it. If they ran into something they couldn't handle, Cypher would be the one to 'heroically' stay behind while he ran.

Elie took a slow breath.

"Okay..." He turned toward the vast field behind them. "Let's get away from here."

With hesitant steps, they moved deeper into the scarlet grass, leaving the black sea and its murmuring whispers behind.

As they walked, the world around them grew quieter. The chirping of unseen insects became the only sound accompanying them, and the land beneath their feet softened, taking on the consistency of wet mud. A nearby tree groaned as they passed, its twisted trunk standing atop a mound of earth that seemed to shift ever so slightly.

Cypher slowed. Something about the tree intrigued him. Its jagged bark spiraled unnaturally, almost like a twisted rope of bone rather than wood. If he could just get a small, insignificant peice of it's bark...

He stepped toward it.

"What are you doing?" Elie's hand clamped onto his shoulder before he could move any closer. His grip was firm, his voice sharp. "This isn't a playground, kid. If I lose you, how the hell am I supposed to get back?"

Cypher shrugged him off. "What do I care? You were trying to kill me a second ago."

"That was under different circumstances."

Elie never liked killing, but it was expected of him. He was born into war—raised for it. There had never been another choice. But out here, the kingdom didn't matter. For now, he was willing to work with Cypher.

That's not to say that Elie completely gave up on the idea of swiftly ending the boy's life as soon as they got back into their world, he would without a second thought.

The same was true for Cypher and he knew it. The stark difference however was that the boy wasn't yet at the same rank of power and could not fight him.

Before he could say anything else, a faint buzzing filled the air. Something landed on his skin—a barely noticeable touch against his neck. Instinctively, he swatted at it.

When he pulled his hand away, a thick magenta fluid clung to his palm.

"Ugh, disgusting." He wiped it off on the grass, watching the slime sink into the soil. "What the fuck was that?"

Silence.

"Cypher?"

He turned.

Cypher was kneeling in the dirt, his hands stained dark. A wet, squelching sound filled the air as he pulled his fingers free, revealing a jagged black stone.

Obsidian.

Its slick surface gleamed under the dim light, smooth like the mountainous crystal daggers in the distance.

Elie's breath hitched. "Be careful with that, kid. That stuff is poisonous to us."

In the kingdom, obsidian was rare—but in the prisons meant for Dreamweavers, it was woven into the very fabric of their clothing.

A precaution.

Cypher frowned. As soon as he touched the obsidian, he felt something drain from him. His soul power thinned, almost imperceptibly at first. But the longer he held it, the stronger the sensation became. It was subtle, like a slow leak. If exposed to it for too long, he would lose his ability to use soul power entirely.

Without hesitation, he dropped the stone.

The ground shifted, the crimson grass curling around it, swallowing it back into the dirt as if it had never been there.

Cypher stood and brushed off his hands. Without another word, they continued walking.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The endless field stretched before them, quieter than before. The stars in the sky—those strange, inverted stars—had stopped moving altogether. The wind carried only the rustling of the grass and the occasional creak of distant trees.

Cypher ran his fingers along the knee-high foliage, its sharp texture shifting under his touch until it softened, almost like fabric. A gentle breeze cooled his skin, pushing his unkempt gray curls into a slightly more orderly mess.

Elie took a deep breath. Now that they were away from the black sea, his mind had begun to clear. His healing ability made it difficult for him to stay shaken for long. A blessing and a curse - no matter how much he lost, whether friends or family, his body always recovered, leaving him no time to grieve.

"It's not so bad when we're moving." He broke the silence, inhaling deeply as a rosemary scent drifted through the air.

Cypher barely acknowledged him.

"You can find beauty in anything," he murmured. "It's never the place that's rotten—only the things that call it home."

Elie let out a short laugh. "If I read that in a book, I'd expect the author to be some wise old scholar, not a snot-nosed noble kid."

"I'm not a noble."

"Then why do you talk like one?"

"Because I'm polite. Unlike some people."

Their conversation trailed off. Cypher, lost in thought, turned his focus inward.

His soul space was no longer empty.

Sand stirred, kicked up by an unseen wind. Warmth spread through the barren desert within his mind, flowing beneath the watchful presence of his soul core.

Like a fish that had spent its life trapped in a small tank, now placed into an endless ocean—able to move freely for the first time.

"I wonder..."

Cypher reached out, letting his fingers brush against a blade of grass.

It crumbled instantly. No effort, no thought—just a single touch, and the crimson strand disintegrated into white dust, drifting away on the wind.

Cypher's lips curled into the faintest smile before settling back into their usual neutrality.

Then—

Elie stopped.

His gaze locked onto the horizon.

Beyond one of the rolling hills, something rose into the sky—a thin, twisting column of gray. The scent of rosemary thickened, mingling with something darker.

Something rich.

Cypher inhaled. He recognized that scent.

"Is that smoke?"

Elie's expression darkened. The scent wasn't just wood burning. There was something else. A familiar bitterness.

Black chocolate.

A delicacy back in the kingdom.

For a moment, they stood still, staring at the rising smoke.

Then, without a word, Cypher started walking toward it.