Chapter Twelve: The Town of Dreams

The road stretched endlessly before me, twisting through hills bathed in a golden light that had no source. The Feywild had faded behind me, yet the world still felt… wrong.

I walked for hours—or minutes. Time had lost meaning. Then, through the haze of exhaustion, I saw it.

A town. Perfect.

The streets were clean, the buildings standing tall and unbroken. No signs of war, of plague, of suffering. People smiled as they passed one another, their faces filled with something I hadn't seen in years.

Contentment.

I watched, waiting for the illusion to shatter, for the cracks to show. But the longer I stood, the more it felt… real.

Too real.

A woman passed by, humming a soft tune, and I stepped in her path. "What is this place?"

She blinked up at me, confusion flickering behind her kind eyes. "Home," she said, as if the word alone was enough.

"And what do you do here?"

She smiled. "We live our dreams."

I let her pass.

A town where every dream comes true.

I walked deeper into the streets, past people who looked too at peace. A man sat by a fountain, staring at the water with a dazed smile. A child chased something invisible, laughter echoing through the air. A woman sat at a table, drinking wine, eyes half-closed as if savoring a moment that would never end.

I was not supposed to be here.

The thought struck me suddenly, an instinct buried deep in my bones.

I turned, ready to leave, but the street was gone.

The buildings around me stretched higher, closer, trapping me. The people continued their lives, unbothered, unchanged.

This town was not real.

Or maybe it was too real.

I forced my breath to steady. "What is this place?" I asked again, louder this time.

A man beside me turned, his expression eerily calm. "It's home," he repeated. "It's where we're meant to be."

I took a step back. "Who built it?"

His smile never faded. "We did. Or maybe it built itself. Does it matter?"

It did.

I reached for my dagger. The weight was reassuring.

"And what happens if I try to leave?"

For the first time, the man's expression flickered. Just for a moment. A fracture in the dream.

Then he smiled again.

"Why would you want to?"

I didn't answer.

I turned sharply, walking in the direction I had come—only to find another street, another row of houses. No exit.

I was trapped.

And in a town where dreams come true, what happens to those who dream of escape?