They reached the top of the small hill and stopped in front of the wooden post. It stood perfectly straight, as if someone had planted it there on purpose. The wood was smooth and clean, not rough like something that had grown naturally.

Fate touched it lightly.

Warm.

Again.

Just like the pebble.

Just like the box.

Just like the grass patch.

"This is definitely placed here," Fate said.

The Dreamer nodded. "Yes. Someone is guiding us."

They looked ahead—and saw something new.

The path split.

One trail went left.

The other went right.

Both were narrow and made of pressed grass, but the left path curved slightly toward shorter grass, while the right path led into taller grass that swayed more with the wind.

Fate frowned. "Why split it now? How are we supposed to know which way to go?"

The Dreamer walked between the two paths and crouched, touching each one. "We check for the same signs as before."

Fate did the same. The left path felt normal—cool, a little firm, nothing special.

Then they touched the right one.

Warm.

Fate looked up. "This one."

The Dreamer nodded. "The warmth has guided us so far. It's consistent."

They stepped onto the right-hand path and continued walking.

The grass here brushed their arms gently. The wind felt a little stronger, and the air had a faint coolness to it. The path was still clear, still straight, but the meadow around them looked a bit taller and thicker.

After a short while, Fate slowed down again. "There's something ahead."

A low shape sat across the path—wide, flat, and pale.

They moved closer.

It was a stone slab, smooth and rectangular, just high enough for someone to sit on.

Fate touched it. "Cold."

The Dreamer crouched and looked at the ground around it. "See the grass around the edges? It's bent outward. Someone sat here… maybe many times."

Fate stepped back. "This is like a resting spot."

"Or a waiting spot," the Dreamer said.

They both looked at the path beyond the slab. It continued forward, straight as before.

Fate took a breath. "Whoever made this path really wanted us to follow it."

The Dreamer nodded. "And we're getting closer to the end."

They stepped past the stone slab and kept walking. The path felt quieter now, more intentional. The meadow around them shifted softly with the wind, but there was a feeling—subtle but clear—that something important was waiting ahead.

They walked on, ready for whatever the next sign would be.

They didn't have to wait long.

Just a few dozen steps past the stone slab, the air changed.

Not the temperature.

Not the wind.

The feeling.

It was as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Fate stopped first. "Do you feel that?"

The Dreamer nodded slowly. "Yes. Something… aware."

They kept walking, but more carefully now. The grass around them grew straighter, as though brushed by unseen hands. The path narrowed slightly, funneling them toward a point ahead where the meadow seemed to rise into a gentle mound.

And on top of that mound—

Something stood there.

Not a rock.

Not a post.

Not an object.

A silhouette.

Humanoid.

Still.

Watching.

Fate's heart beat once, loud in their ears.

The Dreamer whispered, "We've reached the one who laid the signs."

They approached slowly, each step soft on the warm grass. The figure didn't move, didn't speak, didn't shift. Yet the closer they came, the clearer its outline became.

A person made of… light?

No—shimmer. Like heat haze, like the air above a candle flame, like something halfway between real and memory.

When they were near enough to see a face—

The figure finally spoke.

Its voice wasn't loud. It wasn't soft.

It simply existed, like a note played in the center of the world.

"You have followed well."

Fate's breath caught. "You… were guiding us?"

The shimmering figure inclined its head. "Yes."

"Why?" the Dreamer asked.

The being lifted its hand—

And in its palm, something formed.

A small sphere, glowing faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.

"You are close to the place where worlds intersect," it said. "But you cannot enter without this."

Fate stared. "What is it?"

"A key," the figure said. "Shaped by your choices. Warmed by your touch. Earned by your persistence."

The Dreamer stepped forward. "And what lies beyond the intersection?"

The figure paused—then smiled.

"Everything you have lost."

A beat.

"And everything you are meant to find."

The meadow seemed to fall silent.

Fate swallowed. "Then… what do we do?"

"Take the key," the figure said, extending its hand outward. "And be prepared. The next step is not walked—it is chosen."

The sphere hovered between them, gently glowing, waiting.

Fate and the Dreamer looked at each other.

Neither moved at first.

The sphere floated between them, glowing softly, like it was waiting for one of them to decide.

Fate took a small breath. "Should I…?"

The Dreamer shook their head. "No. This is your path. You were the one who felt the warmth first. You sensed the signs before I did."

Fate hesitated, then slowly reached out.

The moment their fingers touched the sphere, it settled into their palm. The glow steadied, no longer pulsing—almost as if it had recognized its owner.

The shimmering figure nodded once. "Good. It accepts you."

Fate closed their fingers around it. It felt warm, almost alive.

"What now?" they asked.

"Now," the figure said, "you choose your direction."

The mound behind it began to shift. The grass moved aside, revealing something new—a narrow opening in the earth, like a doorway made of light and shadow, neither fully bright nor fully dark.

It looked deep. Quiet. Waiting.

The Dreamer studied it carefully. "This is the intersection?"

"Yes," the figure said. "Where paths meet. Where stories cross. Where truth lies."

Fate stepped closer to the opening. "If we go in… there's no turning back, is there?"

"There is always a way back," the figure replied. "But it will not be the same path you came from."

Fate nodded slowly.

The Dreamer placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder. "We've come this far together. Whatever is inside, we face it side by side."

Fate managed a small smile. "Yeah. Together."

The shimmering figure stepped aside.

"The door will open only when you use the key," it said.

Fate raised the sphere. As soon as it moved near the opening, the doorway reacted—light rippled outward, and the dark center brightened slightly.

The figure's voice spoke one last time.

"Enter when you are ready."

Fate looked at the Dreamer.

"Ready?"

The Dreamer nodded. "Ready."

Fate took the first step toward the doorway.

And the light inside shifted, welcoming them in.

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