They stepped forward together.

As soon as Fate crossed the edge of the doorway, the sphere in their hand warmed again. The light inside the opening spread, making the path clear enough to see but not bright enough to reveal everything at once.

The Dreamer followed close behind. The doorway stayed open just long enough for both of them to enter. Then, slowly, the light behind them dimmed, sealing off the meadow from view.

Inside, the air felt different—still, but not empty. Like the space was listening.

Fate held the glowing sphere out in front of them. It reacted, casting soft light onto the walls. The walls weren't stone or dirt; they looked like shifting patterns, as if the space was made of layered memories trying to form shapes.

The Dreamer touched one of the walls. Their fingers passed through it like touching mist. "This place isn't solid… it's made of something else."

Fate nodded. "Feels like a dream."

"Or many dreams mixed together," the Dreamer added.

They kept walking. The corridor curved slowly, leading them deeper. With each step, the sphere glowed a little brighter, almost guiding them the same way the warm signs had.

After a while, the corridor widened.

They entered a round chamber. The ceiling was high, fading into darkness. Lines of soft light moved along the floor like flowing water.

And in the center of the chamber—

A pedestal.

On top of it lay a thin, flat object. It looked like a mirror, but the surface wasn't reflective. Instead, it shimmered like ripples on a lake.

Fate approached slowly. "Is this… what the key leads to?"

The Dreamer nodded. "It must be."

Fate placed the glowing sphere onto the pedestal.

The sphere sank into the surface, disappearing without a sound.

The mirror-like object lit up at once.

The surface shifted, forming clear images.

Fate stepped back in shock. "That's—"

The Dreamer stared. "Your world."

The images showed familiar things—buildings, streets, people Fate knew. But then the images changed, showing places Fate didn't recognize at all. Cities that looked impossible. Skies with colors not found in nature. Paths that twisted through time and memory.

The Dreamer looked at Fate. "This place doesn't just show the present. It shows everything connected to you."

Fate swallowed. "So this is the intersection… the point where all paths meet."

The surface stopped shifting.

A single image remained.

A door.

Plain.

Closed.

Waiting.

Fate stepped closer. "Do we… go through that?"

The Dreamer nodded once. "I think that's where your answers are."

Fate took a steady breath.

"Then let's open it."

Together, they reached out toward the image—

and the chamber around them began to shift again, preparing the next step.

The moment their hands touched the image of the door, the entire chamber responded.

The floor stopped glowing.

The walls stopped moving.

Everything froze—completely still, as if holding its breath again.

Then the image of the door on the pedestal rippled.

Not like water this time.

More like it was turning real.

The flat surface thickened, pushed outward, and formed edges.

In a few seconds, an actual door stood in front of them—full size, solid, and real enough to touch.

Fate stared. "It… came out."

The Dreamer stepped closer, examining it. "This door wasn't just an image. It was waiting to manifest."

The door was simple—smooth wood, a plain handle, no markings. It didn't look important. It looked like it belonged in someone's home.

But somehow, standing this close, Fate felt something familiar behind it. A pull. A memory.

Fate lifted a hand and touched the door. Warm.

Just like all the signs.

The Dreamer nodded. "It's meant for you."

Fate took another breath. "Okay… I'm opening it."

They wrapped their fingers around the handle.

It turned easily—too easily.

A soft click sounded.

The door swung open on its own.

Behind it was not a room. Not a hallway. Not more of the strange dream-corridor.

It was a street.

A normal street.

Pavement.

Sidewalk.

Streetlights.

Distant cars.

A sky turning evening-blue.

Fate's heart jumped. "This is… my world."

The Dreamer looked around with wide eyes. "So this intersection connects directly to where you came from."

Fate stepped forward, but paused with one foot across the threshold.

"What if stepping through closes it?" Fate asked quietly.

"It might," the Dreamer admitted. "But if this is where your answers are… you need to see them."

Fate nodded slowly.

They stepped through the door.

The Dreamer followed right behind—

But as soon as both crossed, the door vanished.

Disappeared completely, leaving only the normal street behind them.

No glow.

No portal.

Nothing.

Fate looked around, stunned. "It's gone…"

The Dreamer placed a calm hand on their shoulder. "Then we go forward. Whatever brought you here wants you to find something."

Fate looked down the quiet street, unsure but determined.

"Let's find it."

Together, they began walking into the world Fate once knew.

They walked slowly at first.

The street was quiet, almost too quiet. No people. No voices. Just the soft hum of distant traffic far away.

Fate looked around carefully. "It's strange. This is my world, but… something feels off."

The Dreamer nodded. "Like it's here, but not complete."

They kept moving. Streetlights flickered on one by one as the evening deepened. The air was cool, familiar, but the silence made it feel heavier.

Fate stopped in front of a corner shop.

The lights inside were on.

The shelves were full.

Everything looked normal.

But when Fate pushed the door—

It didn't open.

Not locked.

Not jammed.

Just… solid. Like it wasn't meant to be opened at all.

Fate frowned and pulled back. "It's like a picture. It looks real, but it isn't."

The Dreamer touched the glass.

Their hand went through it for a moment, then the image rippled like a reflection in water.

"This whole place… it's a memory," the Dreamer said. "Not the real street. A copy."

Fate felt a small chill crawl up their back. "Then why bring us here?"

Before the Dreamer could answer, a sound echoed behind them.

Footsteps.

Slow.

Soft.

Steady.

Fate turned.

Someone was walking toward them from the far end of the street.

A silhouette at first. Then clearer.

A young man.

Dark hair.

Casual clothes.

Hands in his pockets.

Fate froze.

"I know him," they whispered.

The Dreamer watched closely. "Is he someone important?"

Fate shook their head slowly. "No… not important. Just someone I knew. Someone from my everyday life."

The man kept walking, but his eyes didn't shift toward them. He didn't react. Didn't show any sign of noticing them.

When he passed right by, Fate reached out—instinctively.

Their hand went straight through him.

The man's shape wavered like mist and kept walking.

Fate swallowed hard. "He's not real. He's just… a memory walking."

The Dreamer nodded. "This world is built from pieces of you."

Fate took a shaky breath. "Then somewhere in here… the truth must be hidden."

They walked again, following the street where it gently curved.

And then they saw it.

At the end of the road stood a single house.

Lights off.

Curtains drawn.

Silent.

Completely ordinary.

But Fate stopped immediately, staring at it as if something heavy landed in their chest.

The Dreamer looked at them. "Do you know this place?"

Fate nodded slowly.

"That's my home."

The Dreamer stepped closer. "So this is where your answer is."

Fate clenched their hands.

"Then… I guess we're going in."

They began walking toward the quiet house—each step heavier than the last.

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