Chapter 25: The Veil of Forgotten Truths

Elias staggered back, his mind still reeling from the vision. The air around him felt heavier, charged with an unseen force. The Keepers had not moved, but their presence alone was suffocating.

Lyra's grip on his wrist tightened. "We don't have much time."

The silver glow of the locket pulsed against her chest, each flicker sending ripples through the shadows around them. The Keepers remained still, watching, waiting. They had no faces, yet Elias could feel their gaze piercing through him.

"They won't stop until they erase you," Lyra whispered, her voice steady despite the weight of her words. "You were never meant to wake up, Elias. You were supposed to remain lost in the dream."

His breath hitched. "Then why did I wake up? Why am I here?"

She hesitated. Then, as if deciding there was no more time for secrets, she spoke.

"Because something in you refused to be forgotten."

The words sent a shiver down his spine. He had always felt it—this aching pull, this sense that his existence was incomplete. He had been living in fragments, memories slipping through his fingers like sand. And now, the truth was staring him in the face, wrapped in the form of these spectral figures that sought to erase him.

One of the Keepers took a step forward. The space around it warped, bending reality itself. Elias braced himself, his fists clenching at his sides.

"We need to go," he said, his voice firm despite the tremor in his chest.

Lyra nodded, but before she could move, the Keeper lunged.

A wave of force erupted from its form, slamming into Elias like a crashing tide. The world spun, and he was falling—no, being pulled. The city lights blurred, swallowed by darkness.

Then—

Silence.

Elias opened his eyes. He was no longer on the street. The night, the city, the Keepers—everything had vanished. Instead, he stood in a vast, endless hall lined with mirrors.

But the mirrors did not reflect him.

Each one showed a different version of reality—scenes he did not recognize, moments that did not belong to him. A boy sitting beneath a dying tree, whispering to the wind. A girl reaching for a door that led into nothingness. A man standing before an abyss, his expression one of quiet resignation.

Elias swallowed hard.

"What is this place?"

A soft voice echoed behind him.

"This is where the forgotten dreams go to rest."

He turned sharply.

A figure stood at the far end of the hall, draped in robes that shimmered like the surface of a moonlit lake. Their face was obscured, but their presence radiated familiarity.

Elias took a hesitant step forward. "Who are you?"

The figure tilted their head.

"That," they said, "depends on whether you are ready to remember."