The field of forgotten thought cracked under Kael's boots.
The dream-being multiplied. Infinite forms. A hurricane of might-have-beens. They charged—storming reality itself, voices chanting across existence:
"You are unbound. But I am unborn.""You are made. I am what's left unmade."
Kael didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Didn't care.
He simply raised one hand—two fingers poised—and dropped one.
Snap.
Not a sound. A cut in space.
The entire dream froze.
The being screamed, not in pain—but in disbelief.
"What…? That's not possible. I am not real—how did you—?!"
Kael walked forward, slowly, finger still extended. Shardlight bled from his gaze like tears of judgment.
"You made one mistake," Kael said, eyes cold.
"You dreamed in my presence."
The finger touched the being's chest.
Just once.
Silence.
Then—
Collapse.
The dream shattered.
Not like glass.
Like code being erased.
The field. The sky. The being. Everything folded into non-color, into unbeing. Into the void that even the void fears.
Kael stood alone again. Dreamwalking. Unimpressed.
He exhaled once.
"I said I wanted to chill."
He turned.
The next dream welcomed him gently—no threats, no riddles.
Just a child, dreaming of flying.
Kael smiled.
"Better."