Arthur stepped through the swirling gateway and imdiately stumbled.
The world around him had shattered into impossible geotry. The sky fractured into lavenders bleeding into deep blues. Golden ribbons of light danced through the air like free-floating rivers. Clouds curled into spirals, never holding the sa shape for more than a heartbeat.
The ground beneath his feet pulsed faintly with inner light. Soft yet solid, like standing on the surface of soone’s dream.
"Where are we?" Arthur asked, turning in a slow circle.
The Ancient One stood calmly beside him, watching his reaction. "Tell , Mr. Hayes. What do you think?"
Arthur closed his eyes, letting the strange sensations wash over him. The weightlessness. The way thoughts seed to take shape in the corner of his vision. The overwhelming feeling of standing inside soone’s sleeping mind.
"The Dream Dinsion," he said finally.
"Very good."
Arthur frowned. "But I thought this was where people go when they dream. How can we be here physically?"
"Most mortals visit only through unconscious thought." The Ancient One gestured at the surreal landscape. "Their dreams are shadows—brief impressions that barely touch this realm’s edges."
She began walking, her feet sohow finding purchase on the impossible ground. "But with sufficient skill and strength of will, one can enter directly. In the mystic arts, when you’re powerful enough, very little is truly impossible."
Arthur nodded slowly, absorbing this. His knowledge of realms like this was limited to brief ntions in Kamar-Taj’s texts and fragnts from his past life’s movies. The comics had never been his strong suit.
As they began walking—though the concept felt strange in a place that ignored gravity—shapes ford in the distance. Wraith-like creatures drifted through the air, their bodies trailing mist and color like living paintings.
So shifted forms with each breath. Beasts beca birds beca people before lting into cloudstuff.
"What are those?" Arthur asked quietly.
"Dream-constructs. So are echoes of sleeping minds—harmless." The Ancient One’s voice remained steady. "Others are native to this realm. They feed on thought and imagination."
Arthur’s eyes fixed on a figure with too many eyes and a mouth stretching across its chest. It watched them silently but didn’t approach.
He hesitated. "And the ruler of this place? Isn’t this dinsion under—"
The Ancient One’s hand shot up, cutting him off. "Nas have power here, Mr. Hayes. More than in any other realm. They echo through the dream-stuff. They attract attention."
Arthur felt ice in his veins. "So he doesn’t know we’re here yet?"
Her eyes grew sharp, alert in a way that made Arthur’s skin crawl. "Not yet. But he will, and soon. When he does, our educational visit becos sothing far more dangerous."
She raised her hand, and the portal behind them flickered back into visibility. Its edges pulsed with urgency, like a heart beating too fast.
"Co. We’ve already lingered longer than wise."
Arthur took one last look at the impossible vista—at creatures made of pure imagination and landscapes that defied physics. Then he stepped back through the gateway.
New York’s solid reality hit him like a physical force. Concrete beneath his feet. Stars in their proper places. The reassuring hum of traffic far below.
Arthur released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "That was one of the easier realms?"
The Ancient One actually smiled. "Accessible, yes. The Dream Dinsion lies close to human consciousness, which makes it seem welcoming. But ’safe’ is a word that has no aning there."
Arthur steadied himself against the rooftop’s edge. "Where to next?"
She studied him with those penetrating eyes. "Are you certain you wish to continue? What you’ve seen is nothing compared to what cos next."
"Yes. I need to understand the full scope." Arthur replied firmly
The Ancient One nodded slowly. "Very well. But rember—you insisted on this knowledge."
This ti, her gestures were more complex. The portal that opened beside them radiated sothing far worse than the Dream Dinsion’s chaotic energy. This was pure malevolence, ancient and patient and hungry.
Arthur’s skin crawled just looking at it.
"Prepare yourself," she said simply.
Arthur stepped forward before he could reconsider. The mont his foot crossed the threshold, every nerve in his body scread warnings.
Cold that burned. Heat that froze. The air itself felt poisonous.
Behind him, the portal vanished with a sound like screaming.
The sky above was a nightmare of blood-red clouds split by jagged streaks of black lightning. The landscape sprawled in all directions—crimson cliffs that looked like exposed bone, rivers of molten tal that gave off no heat, and scattered across everything, actual bones embedded in the ground like grotesque flowers.
In the distance, a scream echoed. Long, drawn-out, absolutely hopeless.
Arthur felt sothing settle on his chest—an invisible weight trying to crush not his body, but his spirit.
"Welco to Hell," the Ancient One said, appearing beside him. Her voice was quieter now, more solemn. "One of many such realms, but among the most... influential. It reshapes itself to reflect the inner darkness of those who enter."
Arthur recognized this imdiately as phisto’s domain. Everything he’d read, every warning in the ancient texts, paled compared to experiencing it firsthand.
The ground split open with a sound like breaking mountains. A narrow bridge of black stone stretched across a chasm that descended into fire and shadow. Beneath it, figures moved—human shapes that twisted and clawed at one another, whispering nas in voices like broken glass.
"Are those—" Arthur began.
"Souls," the Ancient One finished gently. "So tried to bargain with powers beyond their understanding. Others were simply unlucky. The lord of this realm collects them all equally."
Arthur felt the chill spread deeper, seeping into his bones. His heartbeat thundered in his ears. Each breath tasted of smoke and despair. The air itself pressed down on him, thick with the weight of countless broken dreams.
Sothing inside him cracked.
Whispers flooded his mind—fragnts of visions he didn’t want to see. Choices he hadn’t made. Futures where he failed, where everyone he might one day care about suffered because he wasn’t strong enough, smart enough, fast enough.
The realm fed on his fears like a living thing.
His knees buckled. He tried to look away, to center himself as Master Singh had taught him, but the dinsion pulled at him with relentless hunger.
The Ancient One’s hand touched his shoulder, warm and real and grounding.
"Enough," she said.
Reality dissolved around them in a burst of golden light. They stood once again on the familiar rooftop, New York’s lights twinkling peacefully below.
Arthur gasped, gripping the roof’s edge as the world steadied around him.
"You weren’t ready for that," the Ancient One said, without judgnt. "Few ever are."
Arthur closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. His fingers curled into fists—not in anger, but determination. He’d gotten a glimpse of phisto’s true power. Of what the Ancient One regularly faced.
The movies had never done them justice.
"I want to continue," he said, his voice steadier than before. "I need to understand the full scope."
The Ancient One watched him carefully, then nodded once. With fluid motion, she opened another portal—this one swirling with violet energy that pulsed like a heartbeat in the dark.
It didn’t radiate rage or grief.
It radiated sothing far worse.
Sothing utterly alien.
She didn’t speak this ti.
Arthur stepped forward, the portal’s light casting deep shadows across his face. Whatever lay beyond would complete his education about the true threats facing Earth.
And sothing told him this final lesson would be the most dangerous of all.
The violet energy beckoned, promising answers to questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answered.
But he stepped through anyway.
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