They walked on, the quiet steps making almost no sound on the soft earth. The darker patch ahead slowly became clearer, just like the tall grass had. But this time, the shape didn't fade into something ordinary. It held its form.

As they got closer, Fate narrowed their eyes. "It's not trees… but it's not grass either."

The Dreamer tilted their head. "Let's get a little closer."

A few more steps, and the shape revealed itself—it was a cluster of wide, low bushes. Their leaves were dark green, almost blue in the soft light. They weren't tall, but they grew close together, forming a small circle like they were protecting something inside.

Fate stopped right in front of them. "Do you think there's anything in the middle?"

"There might be," the Dreamer said. "Or maybe it's just how they grow."

Fate gently pushed aside one of the branches. The leaves moved easily, brushing against their hand. Inside the circle was… nothing unusual. Just a clear patch of ground with a few tiny white flowers growing quietly.

Fate let out a small breath. "Oh. I thought it would be something else."

"Sometimes the quiet things are just quiet," the Dreamer replied.

They walked around the bushes and continued forward. The meadow stretched on, the same calm light falling over everything. The sky shifted again, the clouds drifting into new shapes, but never rushing, never darkening.

Fate looked up. "This place… it's peaceful. Almost too peaceful."

"It is," the Dreamer said. "But peace can still change."

They walked a bit farther, and soon something new appeared ahead—a faint shimmer on the horizon, like heat rising even though the air was cool.

Fate pointed. "What's that?"

"I don't know," the Dreamer said softly. "But it's the first thing here that moves differently."

Fate's eyes brightened with curiosity. "Then let's go see."

And so they headed toward the gentle shimmer, the meadow quiet behind them, and something unknown waiting ahead.

They kept walking toward the shimmer. It didn't move like the grass or the clouds. It flickered, soft and steady, almost like a light hidden behind air.

As they got closer, the shimmer slowly changed. It wasn't a wall or a creature. It was a thin line in the air, curving gently, like the edge of something they couldn't see fully yet.

Fate frowned a little. "It looks… strange. Like the air is bending."

"Yes," the Dreamer said. "This place doesn't make sharp shapes unless it wants to."

They walked a bit more until they were only a few steps away. Up close, the shimmer looked like a doorway—just a simple outline made of light, but without anything inside it. They could see the meadow on the other side through the shape, unchanged.

Fate reached out their hand. "Should I touch it?"

"You can try," the Dreamer said.

Fate pressed their fingers into the shimmering line. It wasn't solid. It wasn't warm or cold. It felt like nothing at all. But the shimmer reacted. The light around their hand pulsed once, then settled.

"It didn't do anything," Fate said.

"Not yet," the Dreamer replied. "Maybe it only reacts when we step through."

Fate took a small step back. "Do you think it's safe?"

The Dreamer looked calm, as always. "Everything here has been gentle so far. If it wanted to harm us, it would not look like this."

Fate stared at the doorway-shaped shimmer for another moment, then nodded. "Alright. We go together."

"Together," the Dreamer agreed.

They stepped forward at the same time.

As they crossed the shimmering line, the air changed. It didn't push them or pull them. It simply shifted—like stepping from shade into light.

And on the other side, the meadow looked different.

The colors were a little brighter. The sky was a little clearer. And far ahead, for the first time, they saw something tall—something that actually looked like a real structure.

Fate blinked. "That… wasn't here before."

"No," the Dreamer said quietly. "This is new."

They looked at each other, then began walking toward the distant shape.

They walked toward the tall shape with steady steps. It didn't disappear or blur like the other things they had seen. The closer they came, the more real it looked.

Fate squinted. "It looks like a tree… but not really."

"That's what I see too," the Dreamer said.

A few minutes later, they reached it.

It was a tree, but different from the ones they knew. Its trunk was smooth and pale, almost silver. Its branches didn't spread wide; instead, they curved upward like they were reaching for the sky. The leaves were thin and long, hanging gently, and they shone faintly in the light—almost like they were holding a bit of the shimmer from before.

Fate stepped closer and touched the trunk. "It's cold."

The Dreamer nodded. "But alive."

The ground around the tree was clear, almost like the tree kept the grass low on purpose. The air beneath its branches felt slightly cooler, like quiet shade even though the sun wasn't strong.

Fate looked up. "Do you think this was always here?"

"No," the Dreamer said. "The meadow doesn't show us everything at once. It gives things when it wants to."

Fate walked around the tree, taking their time. On the side facing away from where they had come, there was a faint mark on the trunk—a soft groove, like a natural line or a symbol that wasn't carved but grown.

Fate pointed. "What's this?"

The Dreamer stepped beside them. "It looks like a sign. But I can't read it."

"It doesn't look like words," Fate said. "More like… a direction?"

They both looked in the direction the mark seemed to point. Far past the tree, the meadow stretched on, but there was something else—another faint shape, lower than the tree, almost like a stone or a small mound.

Fate took a slow breath. "I guess we're supposed to go that way."

"Or the meadow thinks we are," the Dreamer said.

Fate gave a small smile. "Either way, we're walking again."

And so they left the silver-like tree behind and headed toward the next distant shape, the calm world opening quietly in front of them once more.

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