Chapter 13: The Broken Dreamer
The sky bled light.
Not red, not fire—memory. Long-forgotten constellations shimmered into view, stars rearranging into chords that hadn't played in eons. The heavens themselves were tuning, preparing for something only the oldest gods could name.
And in the silence between pulses, Aeren heard it again.
A voice—not Eleran's. His own, echoing backward through the Codex.
> You must forget to remember.
You must break to compose.
You are the last dream of a god who dared to weep.
---
Aeren sat cross-legged, eyes closed, as the Codex floated before him like a dim star. Lyssa had cast a dozen silencing runes around them, shielding the clearing from the world. Even birds had stopped singing.
"You sure about this?" she asked.
"No," Aeren said. "But I don't think it's about being ready. I think it's about… listening."
He took a breath, reached out, and let the Verse of the Lament flow into the Codex—not to be used, but to merge.
The book opened by itself.
Not to a page. To a window.
---
He fell.
Through stars. Through past melodies. Through entire lives that had never been sung.
Until he landed in a room made of echoes.
There was no light, only shape—sculpted from absence. And sitting in the center was a boy.
Small. Barefoot. Wrapped in what looked like a torn choir robe. His hair shimmered like the surface of a lake at midnight.
He was humming something… and crying.
Aeren approached slowly.
"Are you Eleran?" he asked.
The boy didn't look up. "Not anymore."
"…Then what are you?"
The boy finally turned his head. One eye was full of stars. The other? Empty.
"I'm what's left."
---
They spoke without speaking. Concepts. Emotions. Shared grief.
Eleran had once tried to compose the Perfect Harmony—a song so beautiful it would erase all suffering. But the price had been too great.
Emotions flattened.
Individuality erased.
Peace bought with silence.
And when Eleran realized what he'd done, it was too late.
The Codex was his last rebellion. His apology.
> "I broke myself," Eleran whispered.
"So someone else could sing what I never could."
Aeren reached out.
"You don't need to be perfect. You just need to remember."
Their hands touched.
And the Codex changed.
---
In the physical world, Lyssa gasped as the runes shattered.
The Codex burst open midair—no longer black and red, but a swirling cosmos of gold, ink, and ash. Symbols danced across its cover: some ancient, some brand new.
Aeren floated an inch off the ground, his chest glowing with a new sigil.
> Codex Core Updated: Dream-Inheritance Protocol Accepted.
New Title Unlocked: The Dreamwalker.
He opened his eyes.
And the world felt smaller.