The Architects are celestial beings tasked with sculpting the dreamscapes of mortals. Every night, they take the fragments of a mortal’s life—their memories, their fears, their desires—and weave them into intricate, shifting worlds. It is a delicate art. Their presence is unseen, a whisper in the wind, a flicker in the corner of a dreamer’s eye. They are bound by an ancient rule: Do not interfere with the waking world.

Elaris had always followed the rules, until she found herself unable to walk away.

Calder’s dreams were chaotic, unpredictable, and—strangely—beautiful. They were unlike anything Elaris had ever encountered. Other dreams followed patterns, threads of emotion that wove through time, forming a story. But Calder’s were storms, whirlwinds of emotion and memory, like the uncontained energy of a creator who could not settle. Loss twisted into joy, hope bent toward despair, and beneath it all was the thrum of his undeniable creativity. His mind was a universe of contradictions, one that fascinated her to no end.

In the beginning, Elaris had merely observed. She had lingered at the edges of his dreams, a shadow, a whisper, moving through his thoughts like a breeze through trees. She should have left it at that, should have faded into the background and followed the rules. But Calder’s dreams called to her in a way that was impossible to ignore. They were messy, raw—alive in a way that no dream should be. And for the first time, Elaris wondered what it would be like to be seen.

Tonight, the dreamscape trembled beneath her. Calder stood on the edge of a cliff, his back to her. The air was thick with tension, a storm clouded sky swirling above him as if reflecting the tempest inside his heart. He was sketching something, his hands moving in frantic motions, desperate to capture the fleeting moment.

She should have left. She should have stepped back into the shadows and allowed the dream to unfold naturally. But she didn’t. She stayed.

“Are you going to say something?” Calder’s voice shattered the silence, a sharp demand that cut through the air like lightning.

Elaris froze. He couldn’t possibly know she was here, could he? She was a presence in the dream, something no mortal should be able to sense, let alone speak to. And yet, Calder’s eyes were locked onto hers with an intensity that made her heart stutter.

“Why do you keep following me?” he asked, his voice low, pained. “What is this? Why are you always here?”

Elaris’s chest tightened. She had no answer for him, no explanation that would satisfy the questions burning in his gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. What could she say? That she was an Architect, forbidden to interact with mortals, yet here she was, breaking the very law that governed her existence?

“You can see me,” she said softly, as though it was a question rather than a statement.

Calder didn’t look away. “I’ve seen you before. In the shadows, in the corners of my mind. Sometimes I feel like you’re right there, watching me. I don’t understand it, but I can’t ignore it anymore.” His gaze softened for a moment, almost like a plea. “I don’t know what you are, but I feel like I need to know.”

Elaris took a step back, her heart racing. He shouldn’t know any of this. He shouldn’t be aware of her existence at all. And yet, here he was, speaking the very words that haunted her thoughts. The rules she had so carefully followed her entire existence were slipping through her fingers like sand.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Elaris whispered, more to herself than to him.

Calder took another step forward, his eyes searching hers. “Then why are you? What are you really?”

The dream began to shift around them, the ground beneath their feet shuddering. Elaris felt the unmistakable pull of her realm, the weight of reality pressing against the dream. She should leave. She had to leave. But Calder’s presence, his questions, his gaze—it held her in place.

“I can’t explain,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t walk away.”

“You don’t have to,” Calder said, his voice raw. “I don’t want you to go.”

And then, without thinking, he reached out, his hand brushing against hers. The touch was electric, warm, and Elaris’s heart stuttered in her chest. It was a simple touch, the briefest of connections, but it felt like more than anything she had ever known.

The dream shifted again, and this time, it didn’t stop. The sky cracked open above them, the world beginning to shatter. Elaris could feel it—a tearing sensation, like the very fabric of reality was breaking apart. She couldn’t hold it together any longer.

“I have to go,” Elaris said, her voice breaking as she tried to pull away from him.

“No,” Calder said, gripping her hand tightly. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave me.”

Elaris’s heart ached. She wanted nothing more than to stay, to give in to the connection they had formed. But she knew the consequences. The boundaries between the dream world and the waking world were already beginning to crumble. If she stayed, if she allowed herself to cross that line, there would be no going back.

“If I stay,” Elaris said, her tears glowing like stars in the fractured light, “everything will fall apart. The dreamers will be trapped in their dreams. Reality will collapse.”

Calder shook his head, as though he couldn’t comprehend the weight of what she was saying. “I don’t care about the rules,” he said fiercely. “I care about you. You’ve been a part of me for so long. I can’t lose you now.”

Elaris’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to stay. She wanted to forget the rules, forget the consequences, and simply be with him. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t condemn the world for the sake of one fleeting moment.

“I can fix this,” Elaris said, her voice breaking, “but only if I leave.”

The sky above them cracked open, a final rupture that tore their worlds apart.

“I’ll never forget you,” Calder said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll carry you with me, in every dream, in every brushstroke.”

Elaris closed her eyes, her heart shattering as she allowed the dream to unravel completely. She reached out for him one last time, and then, with a final breath, she was gone.

Calder woke in his studio, the light of dawn spilling through the windows. His mind was heavy, his heart aching with a longing he couldn’t place. He turned to his easel, where the paintings of her—of the woman he had never known—hung like ghosts in the dim morning light. They were unfinished, incomplete, as if the connection had never truly been.

Far away, in the Architect’s realm, Elaris stood alone. She had restored the balance, but in doing so, she had lost everything that had begun to feel real. She had given up her place in his dreams, but the memory of their connection remained, a flicker of light in the darkness.

And though the rules bound her, she carried that fleeting moment with her forever—hidden where no law could reach.

The days passed in a blur for Calder. He kept painting, kept sketching, but his heart wasn’t in it. The canvas in front of him had become a mere distraction, a way to try and capture what he could no longer understand. His art had always been a place of refuge, a space where his mind could breathe free, but now it felt suffocating.

The image of her lingered in his mind, so clear, so vivid, that he could almost see her standing in the corner of his studio at times, her presence just out of reach. He still couldn’t explain what he had felt in that dreamscape—what he had shared with her. A part of him still believed it had all been a figment of his imagination, a trick his mind had played on him in the throes of sleep. And yet, when his brush met the canvas, when his fingers traced the soft curve of her figure, he could feel something more. He could feel her.

Her absence was a weight in his chest, an aching hollow that refused to go away. He could almost hear her voice in the back of his mind, whispering the words she had spoken in that dream. If I stay, everything will fall apart.

The truth of it had begun to settle in. She wasn’t just a figment of his imagination. She was something more, something he couldn’t grasp but knew he needed. And he was certain that their meeting—however improbable, however impossible it had been—wasn’t a coincidence. It had meant something.

But what? And why had she left?

Elaris stood alone in the Architect’s realm, her form flickering with a faint luminescence that was barely visible in the shadowed expanse of the endless horizon. She could feel the weight of the laws around her, the rules that governed her very existence, pulling at her. It was a constant pressure, a reminder of her place in the grand design. She was an Architect, meant to shape the dreams of mortals, not to become a part of them.

And yet, she had broken the one rule she’d been bound to all her existence. She had let herself feel, had allowed herself to be seen, to become entangled in a mortal’s world. It was foolish. Irresponsible. Dangerous.

But even now, as she stood in the stillness of her realm, she couldn’t forget Calder. His words echoed in her mind—I don’t care about the rules. I care about you. The memory of his voice, raw and desperate, sent an ache through her chest. She had torn herself away from him to preserve the balance, to protect the dreamers who would have been trapped in endless dreams, unable to wake.

But in doing so, she had lost something irreplaceable.

What was the point of maintaining the rules if they meant sacrificing everything that mattered? The weight of the law was stifling, and the thought of it crushed her in a way she had never anticipated. How could she return to the way things were, knowing that there was something real—something more—waiting for her beyond the confines of the Architect’s realm?

In the mortal world, Calder couldn’t help but feel that something had been irrevocably broken inside him. His art no longer flowed with the same ease it once had. The colors on his canvas bled into one another, creating swirls of shadow and light that seemed to have no beginning or end. He couldn’t focus on his work the way he used to. Every brushstroke was a struggle, and the world around him felt strangely distant, as if the edges were fraying, slipping out of his reach.

He went through the motions of his daily life—showing up to his classes, meeting with friends—but none of it felt real. He was constantly waiting, watching, hoping for something that he couldn’t define. And every night, as sleep came upon him, he would lie awake, wishing for the chance to see her again.

The next time he dreamed, it was different.

This time, he didn’t wake up to find himself standing on a cliff, gazing at the turbulent sky. Instead, he was back in the same familiar space: the quiet, peaceful park that he had visited as a child. But the world around him was not what it seemed. The trees were muted, their colors washed out, and the grass beneath his feet was thin and brittle. There was something wrong. The edges of the dreamscape were breaking apart, crumbling like dust.

And there, standing in the middle of the field, was Elaris.

She was radiant, her form glowing faintly, but the expression on her face was one of sorrow. Calder stepped forward, unable to control the pull of his heart.

“Elaris?” His voice cracked as he spoke her name.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she looked around, as if the dream itself was in danger of collapsing.

“Calder,” she said quietly. Her voice was softer than before, filled with a sorrow he could feel deep in his bones. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to leave me like that.”

She looked at him, her eyes full of regret. “I didn’t want to leave you. But if I stayed, everything would fall apart.”

“I don’t care,” Calder said, his voice fierce. “I don’t care about the rules. I care about you.”

She took a step toward him, her gaze never leaving his. “You don’t understand,” she said softly. “There are things in motion that can’t be stopped. Forces beyond our control.”

“I don’t care about any of that.” Calder stepped closer. “I care about you.”

Elaris closed her eyes briefly, as though weighing something in her mind. Then, when she opened them again, there was something new in her gaze—something she had been hiding before. Hope.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” she said quietly. “But the balance… it’s delicate. If I stay, the consequences will be far worse than you could ever imagine.”

Calder reached for her, his heart racing. “I don’t care. Please, Elaris. Don’t leave me.”

She hesitated for a moment longer before, with a final, broken sigh, she reached out to him. Her fingers brushed against his, and the connection that sparked between them was more intense than anything he had ever felt. It wasn’t just an electric charge—it was a fusion of worlds, a blending of their two realities that felt like it would tear them both apart.

And then, everything went dark.

When Calder awoke, the dream had already slipped from his grasp like smoke through his fingers. He sat up in his bed, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. The darkness of his room seemed to close in around him as he tried to steady his breathing. It had felt so real, so tangible—Elaris, standing before him with a pain in her eyes that mirrored his own. He could still feel the warmth of her hand, still hear the echo of her voice.

But as always, when he opened his eyes to the waking world, she was gone. Just a figment, a memory, a fleeting illusion.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. The world outside was quiet, still, as if it was waiting for something. He glanced at the clock—4:17 AM—and couldn’t shake the feeling that the world had shifted in ways he couldn’t understand.

Something had changed in that dream, something irreversible. Elaris had come back. But what did it mean? What could it mean?

The door to his room creaked open, and his roommate, Jack, poked his head in. “Hey man, you good?” Jack asked, his voice thick with sleep.

“Yeah,” Calder replied, forcing a half-hearted smile. “Just… bad dream.”

Jack nodded, stepping into the room. “Another one of those vivid ones?”

“Yeah,” Calder said. “But this one was different.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” Calder muttered, his gaze drifting to the unfinished painting on his easel. “It felt real.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s just a dream? You sound like you’re talking about someone you actually know.”

Calder’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Jack’s expression softened, sensing the depth of Calder’s distress. “Hey, man. Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out. Just take care of yourself, alright?”

“Yeah,” Calder said again, though it was hard to believe.

Jack left him alone with his thoughts, and Calder returned his gaze to the unfinished painting. The image of Elaris, her form glowing faintly in the dream, hung in his mind. He could almost see her now, standing beside him, as real as any person could be. But what did that even mean? Was she some kind of phantom? A projection of his subconscious? Or was she something more—something that had crossed into his reality in ways that made no sense?

But as much as he wanted to dismiss it as nothing more than his imagination, a nagging part of him refused to let go of the truth that had been growing in his chest: he wasn’t imagining her. Elaris was real.

In the Architect’s realm, Elaris sat in the quiet expanse of the starry sky. She had not moved for hours—or was it days? Time had no meaning here. Her mind was heavy with the weight of the decision she had made. She had violated the one rule she had sworn to follow, and now she was left to deal with the consequences. But even in the quiet, she could not escape the image of Calder, his eyes full of longing, his voice filled with a desperation that mirrored her own.

She could feel him now, even from a distance. It was as if their connection had reached beyond the dreamworld, stretching into the waking world. His presence—his thoughts—had become a constant pull in her chest, a thread that anchored her to him despite the distance that separated them.

Elaris stood, her figure flickering in and out of focus. She closed her eyes, reaching out with her mind to the mortal realm. She could feel Calder’s presence there, faint but unmistakable. His heart, still racing from the dream, was tied to hers in ways she couldn’t explain. She had broken the rules by staying in his world for even that brief moment, but the truth was far worse than she had imagined.

The dreamworld was beginning to destabilize. There were cracks in the fabric of reality, fractures that threatened to pull everything apart. The boundary between the two realms—the waking world and the dream world—was crumbling, and it was all because of her.

She had to make a choice. She could return to the Architects’ realm, where the laws were clear, where everything was in order. She could forget Calder, forget the feeling of his hand in hers, and let the dreamworld settle back into its natural rhythm. Or she could stay, risk everything, and see where the connection between them led.

The weight of the decision crushed her chest. She closed her eyes, summoning the strength she needed to make the right choice. But the thought of leaving him, of never seeing him again, was unbearable. She had already let go once, and the emptiness that followed had been suffocating. Could she really do it again?

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the fabric of the dream. She could feel the world around her bending, the very essence of it bending to her will. But with each movement, she felt the tension increase—the pull between the realms growing stronger.

The balance was slipping.

Back in the mortal world, Calder spent the next few days in a haze, caught between waking and dreaming, reality and fantasy. His art, which had once been his solace, now felt like an attempt to capture something beyond his reach. Every brushstroke felt empty without her, every line a pale imitation of the emotions she had stirred within him.

One night, as he stood in front of his easel, a quiet whisper filled his mind. He froze, his breath catching in his throat.

Calder…

He turned, his heart hammering in his chest, but there was no one there. He couldn’t explain it. He wasn’t sure what was happening. But there was a presence, a pull, as though she was calling to him, reaching across the divide that separated their worlds. His fingers trembled as he reached for the paintbrush, his movements slow and deliberate. The canvas seemed to glow under his touch, as though it too was alive, responding to the call that had reverberated through him.

And then, as if by some unspoken agreement, the dreamscape returned.

He was back on the cliffside, the same stormy sky swirling overhead. But this time, it wasn’t the same. This time, Elaris was there.

Her form flickered at the edge of his vision, the light around her shining brighter than before. She was standing a few steps away, her presence almost overwhelming in its intensity. But she was real this time—so real.

“Elaris,” he whispered, his voice shaking with the weight of everything he had been feeling.

She turned to him, her eyes wide with emotion. “You felt it, didn’t you?” Her voice was soft, almost tentative.

“Yes,” he replied. “I don’t understand what’s happening… but I know it’s real.”

The space between them closed in an instant. He stepped forward, heart pounding. “I don’t care about the rules anymore. I care about you.”

Elaris didn’t speak for a moment. She seemed to be searching for something in his eyes—something she could no longer deny. Then, with a gentle sigh, she closed the distance between them, her hand reaching out to touch his.

And in that moment, everything changed.

This part delves deeper into their internal struggles and the crumbling boundary between the dream world and reality. Calder and Elaris’ connection grows stronger, and the stakes of their actions become clearer as they continue to risk everything for each other.

The days that followed were filled with an unsettling stillness. The world outside Calder’s window was calm, too calm. Yet, within him, a storm was brewing, a tempest that had no name, but a pull he couldn’t ignore. He went through his daily routine like a ghost, moving in a haze. His thoughts were consumed by Elaris, the dreamscape, and the consequences of what they had done.

It started small. The first oddity was the flicker of light in his studio—a subtle change in the shadows, an inexplicable shimmer. At first, he thought it was nothing, just the effect of the late afternoon sun or his tired eyes. But as the days wore on, the disturbances grew more frequent. Objects in his apartment shifted position when he wasn’t looking, and the air itself seemed to hum with an invisible energy.

One night, as he walked through the park near his apartment, a wave of dizziness struck him. The trees around him began to bend unnaturally, the leaves swirling in a gust of wind that seemed to have no source. The ground beneath his feet rippled, as if the earth itself was becoming fluid. Calder stumbled back, disoriented. His breath caught in his throat. The world was warping around him.

And then, in the distance, he saw her.

Elaris was standing at the edge of the park, her figure glowing faintly, though the air around her shimmered in odd patterns. She was so real, so present, that Calder couldn’t help but take a step forward, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Elaris!” he called, his voice trembling.

She turned slowly, as if she had been waiting for him, her eyes full of both relief and sorrow. But there was no time to speak. The ground beneath their feet cracked, and the air grew heavy with tension. Calder watched as the space around them twisted, the sky darkening in a way that wasn’t natural, as if the very fabric of the world was being torn apart.

“This isn’t right,” Elaris whispered, her voice strained. “The balance is collapsing.”

“What do you mean?” Calder asked, his voice rising in panic. He stepped toward her, but the distance between them seemed to stretch unnaturally. “What’s happening?”

“I—I didn’t think it would happen like this.” Her voice cracked as she spoke. “I thought we could stay hidden, that our worlds wouldn’t collide. But the connection between us… it’s too strong. It’s disrupting everything. The dreamscape is breaking apart. The waking world is bleeding into it. And if it continues, both realities will collapse.”

Calder felt the weight of her words settle into his chest like a stone. The world around him felt increasingly unstable, as though the ground beneath his feet was no longer solid. He looked at Elaris, her face filled with fear, and knew she was speaking the truth. This wasn’t just a dream, it wasn’t just a fantasy. This was real. And whatever had happened between them was far more dangerous than either of them had realized.

“The Architects will come for me,” Elaris continued, her eyes flickering with anxiety. “They’ve already sensed the disturbance. They’ll try to undo everything, and if they succeed, you’ll never remember me again. None of this will have ever happened.”

“No,” Calder said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I don’t care. I don’t care about the rules. I don’t care about the Architects. I just want to be with you.”

Elaris shook her head, her form flickering like a mirage. “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice urgent. “If we don’t fix this, it won’t just be us who suffers. The dreamers… they’ll all be trapped in endless dreams, unable to wake. The reality we know will fall apart. And it will be my fault.”

Calder’s chest tightened. He couldn’t lose her—not after everything. He couldn’t go back to a world without her. “Then we fix it together,” he said, his voice steady with resolve. “I’m not leaving you. I don’t care what happens.”

For a moment, Elaris looked at him, her eyes softening with emotion, but then the tremors in the world around them grew more violent. The ground cracked beneath their feet, and the sky above them tore open, revealing a swirling void of stars and darkness. The fabric of both worlds was coming undone, unraveling at the seams.

“We don’t have time,” Elaris said, her voice shaking. “I have to go. I have to return before it’s too late.”

“No,” Calder pleaded, his voice breaking. He reached out to her, but the distance between them stretched impossibly far. “Please, don’t go. There has to be another way.”

She hesitated, her face a mask of pain. “There isn’t time, Calder. We have to separate before it’s too late. If I stay, I’ll only make things worse.”

With a final, heart-wrenching glance, Elaris stepped backward, her form flickering with a soft, ethereal light. The world around her shimmered, then began to dissolve, as if she were slipping through the fabric of reality itself.

“No!” Calder shouted, reaching for her, but she was already gone.

Elaris found herself back in the Architects’ realm, but it no longer felt like home. The weight of her actions pressed down on her like a thousand chains. The sky above was a dull shade of gray, the stars flickering weakly as if the world itself had lost its vibrancy. She had returned to the place that was supposed to be her sanctuary, but all she could think of was Calder, his face filled with desperation, the longing in his eyes.

Her heart ached. She had chosen to leave him, chosen to break the bond they had forged. But the decision was not as simple as it seemed. The more she tried to ignore the pull between them, the stronger it became, and the more the world around her seemed to fracture.

The Architects were already aware of the disturbance. They would come for her soon, to restore the balance, to undo the damage she had caused. They would demand answers, and she would be forced to face the consequences of her disobedience.

But there was another part of her that refused to give up. She couldn’t just let Calder fade into a dream, a memory that would never have existed. He was real. Their love was real.

And if she had to defy the very nature of her existence to be with him, then so be it.

This part emphasizes the escalating tension as the boundaries between the dream world and reality collapse. It also highlights the difficult decision Elaris faces, torn between her duty and her love for Calder. The stakes are raised as the Architects grow aware of the disturbance, and the threat of total collapse looms ever larger.

Time in the waking world had begun to lose its meaning for Calder. Days bled into nights, and reality itself seemed to fray at the edges. It started with small things—disjointed conversations with his friends, the odd sense of déjà vu that clung to every moment. But soon it became impossible to ignore. The world was changing around him, as though it were unraveling, piece by piece.

He could still feel Elaris, even though she was no longer in his dreams. The pull between them was stronger than ever, a constant hum in the back of his mind. The more he tried to ignore it, the louder it became, like an echo he couldn’t silence. He hadn’t seen her since that night in the park, when the world had twisted and cracked beneath their feet, and yet he knew she was still out there, somewhere. The connection between them had not broken, even if they were worlds apart.

But the world around him was falling apart.

The walls of his apartment shifted in strange, fluid patterns, as if they were made of liquid instead of concrete. In the street below, the sounds of cars honking and people shouting seemed muffled, as if they were distant echoes from another world. And in the corner of his vision, he saw shapes—figures that flickered in and out of existence, like shadows cast by an invisible light. It was as if the boundaries of the dreamscape and reality were no longer separate.

Calder had known, deep down, that things couldn’t continue like this. The dreamworld and the waking world were colliding, and if something wasn’t done soon, both would be lost. But what could he do? He was just one person, one mortal. He couldn’t fight the Architects. He couldn’t fix what he had broken.

His phone buzzed on the table, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. He glanced at the screen, and his breath caught in his throat. It was a message from an unknown number.

Calder, you must come to the gallery. It’s urgent. I know you won’t understand, but it’s the only place where we can meet. – Elaris

Without hesitation, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out the door.

The gallery was quiet, as it always was late at night. Calder pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of oil paint and dust. The walls were lined with the usual collection of abstract paintings, but tonight they seemed different. The colors on the canvases shifted when he wasn’t looking directly at them, the edges of the images warping and melting in ways that defied logic.

At the far end of the room, he saw her.

Elaris was standing in front of a large canvas, her figure glowing with an otherworldly light. She turned to face him as he approached, her eyes filled with a mixture of relief and sorrow.

“I knew you’d come,” she said softly, her voice filled with both longing and regret. “But it’s too late.”

Calder’s heart ached as he reached for her, his fingers trembling. “What do you mean? I’m here, Elaris. We can fix this. We can make it right.”

She shook her head, stepping back from him. “It’s already happening. The dreamscape is collapsing, and the waking world is starting to fall apart. It’s my fault. I never should have stayed. I never should have broken the rules.”

“You didn’t break anything,” Calder said, his voice fierce. “You followed your heart. We followed our hearts. There has to be a way to fix this.”

Elaris closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, the pain in her gaze was almost unbearable. “The rules exist for a reason, Calder. The Architects will come for me. They’ll tear everything apart to restore the balance. If we don’t separate now, if we don’t sever the connection between us, both worlds will be destroyed. Everything we’ve known will cease to exist.”

“No,” Calder whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t lose you. I won’t.”

“You don’t understand.” Elaris took a step closer, her face a mask of anguish. “The choice is no longer ours. The boundaries between our worlds are breaking. If we don’t end this now, both realities will collapse. The dreamers will be trapped forever, and there will be no way back.”

Calder reached for her, his fingers brushing against the glowing light that surrounded her. “I don’t care about the rules. I don’t care about the Architects. I care about you. I care about us.”

Elaris’ expression softened, but the sadness in her eyes deepened. “I care about you too, Calder. But my love for you… it’s what’s causing all this. It’s what’s destroying everything.”

Calder’s breath hitched as the weight of her words settled into his chest. He could feel the world around them vibrating, the very air thick with tension. The dreamscape was no longer something distant and intangible—it was here, in the gallery with them, a twisting, writhing force that pulled at the edges of reality.

“Then we’ll face it together,” Calder said, his voice firm. “We can find a way. We have to.”

Elaris looked at him for a long moment, as if searching for something in his eyes, something that might give her hope. But there was no time. The world was collapsing around them, and they could feel the weight of the Architects drawing near.

“I wish there was another way,” she whispered. “But if we don’t let go now, everything will be lost.”

The gallery around them began to warp, the walls bending and twisting like soft clay. Calder could feel it in his chest—the pressure building, the worlds on the verge of collapse. It was happening too fast, too violently. And in that moment, he knew that there was only one choice.

Calder closed his eyes, his heart breaking as he stepped back from her. “Then let go,” he whispered, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “Let go, Elaris.”

She hesitated for a moment, and then, with a final, silent breath, she stepped into the light. The air around them shimmered, and for the briefest of moments, it felt as if the entire world held its breath.

And then she was gone.

The world snapped back into place, but the weight of her absence lingered like a cold shadow.

In the Architects’ realm, Elaris stood alone, her heart a hollow echo of what it had once been. She had done what needed to be done, but the ache in her chest would never fade. She had let go of Calder, the love of her life, to save both their worlds.

But she knew, deep down, that it wasn’t over.

The Architects were watching. But they had underestimated the strength of what they had created—what she had created with Calder. And though their worlds were torn apart, she felt a quiet certainty.

The connection between them had not ended.

It had only just begun.

The silence in the gallery was suffocating.

Calder stood motionless, his heart racing, his hands trembling as they clung to the remnants of her presence. The air was still, but he could feel the distant hum of something that no longer existed, a connection severed, a love lost. He knew it, even before the gallery around him began to fade into the shadows of his mind. Elaris was gone. And yet, somehow, he still felt her, as if she were a whisper just beyond his reach.

Outside, the world had quieted. The strange distortions that had plagued the streets had ceased, the flickering visions fading as though they had never been. For a brief moment, Calder wondered if he had imagined it all—the figures in the corners of his eyes, the warping of the world around him. But as he stood in the empty gallery, the weight of the decision he had made settled in, the finality of it pressing down on his chest.

He walked slowly toward the canvas she had stood before, its colors dull now, the once-shifting patterns stilled. It had been her last creation, an unfinished masterpiece that captured everything she had been, everything she had loved.

And now, it was all gone.

The world outside seemed to go on, oblivious to the cosmic rift that had nearly torn it apart. Calder returned to his apartment, each step heavier than the last, but the dreamscape felt further away, fading as the lines between the waking world and the realm of the Architects grew sharper. He had let go. He had done what he was told was necessary. But the ache in his heart was unbearable, an empty void where once there had been love.

Days passed, and the weight of their separation began to feel like a dull ache that never quite went away. The world moved around him, but it no longer held the same beauty. The colors of his paintings felt muted, the light of day less vibrant. It was as though the universe had lost its depth, its magic, and Calder couldn’t shake the feeling that he had played a part in that loss.

One evening, as he stood in his studio, painting with absent strokes, the doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone, and the sound startled him, echoing through the silence of his apartment. He hesitated for a moment before making his way to the door.

When he opened it, his breath caught in his throat.

There, standing in the doorway, was Elaris.

Her form was different now—less ethereal, more solid, though still shimmering with a faint light, as though she were made of stardust and dreams. Her eyes, once filled with sorrow, were now bright, alive, as if a part of her had been reborn.

“Elaris?” His voice was barely a whisper.

She smiled, a soft, sad smile that held all the weight of the world. “You didn’t think it was over, did you?”

Calder’s heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. “But… I thought… You said…” He couldn’t find the words to explain the confusion swirling inside him. He had let her go. He had thought it was the only way.

“I did,” she said softly. “I did let go. And so did you. But the connection we share, Calder… it’s not something that can be severed so easily. It’s not something the Architects can control.”

He shook his head, his chest tightening. “I don’t understand. You were gone. I thought you were gone for good.”

“I was,” she said, stepping closer, her presence comforting yet overwhelming. “For a while, I was. But the dreamscape didn’t fall apart. It didn’t collapse, Calder. It changed. The boundaries between our worlds are still shifting, but it’s not the end. It’s a beginning.”

Calder reached for her, his hands trembling as he touched her, as if confirming that she was real, that she was truly here. “You’re here,” he whispered, the words breaking through the barrier of his fear and confusion.

Elaris nodded, her smile soft and bittersweet. “Yes. I’m here. And I’m not leaving. Not this time.”

He pulled her into his arms, the reality of her presence filling the emptiness that had consumed him since their separation. It felt like the world was shifting again, but this time, it was different. The tension in the air was not the sharp, painful fracture it had been before, but a gentle hum, a resonance that filled the space between them with possibility.

“You were right,” Elaris murmured, her voice trembling. “We couldn’t stop it. The world had to change. The dreamscape and the waking world—our worlds—they had to merge, Calder. The Architects couldn’t control it anymore. They couldn’t undo what we had created together.”

He pulled back slightly, looking into her eyes. “But what about the Architects? What happens now?”

“They will adapt,” she said, her gaze steady. “They will have to. We’ve broken their rules, Calder. And now, we make our own.”

For the first time in weeks, Calder felt a spark of hope, something that had been absent since Elaris had first left. The weight in his chest lifted, and though he knew there would be challenges ahead—challenges that neither of them fully understood yet—he also knew that they would face them together.

They had broken the rules of the Architects, yes. But in doing so, they had created something new, something that belonged to them. A new world, where love was not bound by the laws of fate or the cosmos. A world where they could shape their own future, unbound by the constraints of the past.

Elaris reached for his hand, her fingers intertwining with his, and as she did, the gallery around them shimmered into existence once more. The dreamscape had found its new form, not just as a realm of sleep, but as a place where reality and fantasy intertwined, where the dreams of mortals and the lives of the Architects coexisted.

And for the first time, Calder didn’t feel alone. He felt whole. He felt alive.

“I’m not letting go again,” he whispered, his voice filled with conviction.

And Elaris smiled, the warmth of her presence filling the space between them.

“Neither am I.”

Romance can bloom from the little things. — I had been selected as an architect spirit when I was young. A randomised system only disclosed to those recruited like myself. We followed the lives of people of our age, and we craft relevant dreams for them. I had no life, perhaps both figuratively and literally, for I was a wandering soul, simply tasked with following around the living. We were assigned to a different group of people every year, to encourage diverse personalities. I watched children of my age grow up. I witnessed their joys, their tragedies, their struggles, their victories. I heard loved ones sing them an off-key “Happy Birthday” all in the spirit of good nature and compassion. I watched happy families develop. I had no family. I had no friend. I just wandered the world. What else could I do, but watch?

I had just turned 15 when I was assigned to craft the dreams for a particular 15 year old boy. Unlike the majority of people I had been assigned to previously, this boy did not radiate happiness and joy. He seemed very drained. I never saw him smile. Every morning, he would make his way to the school library. He always arrived unnaturally early, and would sometimes simply sit down in his library chair by the window and watch the Sun rise. He would be lost in thought.

I soon came to understand why.

There was not a crack in his perfections. Top student, perfect scores, captain athlete. Yet he seemed so utterly miserable. Perhaps, looking back, the issue itself was that he had no faults, and that is what made him miserable.

He wasn’t loved by anyone. His own family showed him no compassion. He didn’t know what happiness was, For he had never been taught it.*

He was having nightmares, before I came along. Such violent, traumatic events that he never wanted to see, but could never properly run from. Instead, he started avoiding sleep as much as possible. It was not healthy. He slept for very few hours each day, leaving him completely drained.

My senior, who was the only spirit who remotely cared for us young spirits, had taught me that we should help these humans, and encourage happiness and love. To care for them, using our supernatural advantages.

I quickly set to work, creating a dream for him. Something he wouldn’t fear. Something he would stay around for.

A calming sunset. A comforting orange glow, capturing surrounding beauty. He stood in an vast field of soft grass and pretty flowers, sprinkled in abundance. The area wasn’t so wide as to be terrifyingly endless, but not small enough to be uncomfortably restricting.

He opened his eyes, surprised with the sight before him. His breathing was hurried and his heartbeat unsure. He knew that it was surely destined to lead to catastrophe, as all his dreams.

I materialised before him, landing next to him with a soft thud on the grass. “Relax,” I said. He stared at me, eyes wide. Perhaps not out of astonishment for my presence, but my even more surprising voice. I had just had the most awful voice crack possible. What a fantastic introduction. Quickly, I start coughing repeatedly, trying to clear my throat. “You… okay?” He asks me curiously. “Mhm,” I croaked awkwardly holding a thumbs up. “My voice isn’t exactly perfect after not using it for a few years.” He stared at me, bewildered. “Who are you?” “Me?” I grinned. “I’m someone you’re gonna keep seeing for a while!” “I don’t know whether I should feel happy or threatened,” he mumbled, stepping back slightly, indicating the latter option. “Hey, hey,” I said, grabbing his arms gently. “I am not your enemy.” “Are you sure?” He laughed bitterly. “Because my dreams never end well. Why are you even here? What even is this place?” “Too many questions,” I replied, sighing. I released his arms, and waved my hands into the air, creating beautiful sparks and streaks of vibrant colour in the sky. “This… this is a place of comfort. So, calm down.” “What is that demonstration supposed to mean for me?” He said, sceptical. Ignoring him, I continued, “So, what do you want? Name it, and I’ll create it.” He stared at me for a long while. “Forget it,” he answered. “This is making my scared. Something bad is going to happen.” I felt the world around us suddenly shake, signalling him trying to wake up. “Ah, I see, so you really are one of those mortals who can control when you wake—“ My statement was cut off as he disappeared from the world, along with the dream world crumbling to pieces.

I found myself back in the earth world, floating as an invisible spirit once more. “Dang it!” I cried through gritted teeth to nothing in particular. Ultimately, I had to wait the length of the day for him to return to sleep once more, though briefly.

The day passed incredibly slowly. I visited my senior for advice. “Relax.” They told me. “Do not act so rashly as to lose him immediately. Try to be more natural. Connect in a way he understands.” I thanked and left my senior, thinking.

He eventually fell asleep once more, and my world immediately appeared before him once more. “Again?” He exclaimed to the skies. “I won’t stick around for long, so don’t even dare try something funny.” “Seriously,” I replied, appearing beside him. “I’m not going to hurt you or scare you. I’m all positivity.” His responding glare at me told me that he absolutely did not trust me. “What do you want?” I repeated. “Video games? Food? A swimming pool?” I generated such materials before us. “Okay, maybe not quite all at once,” I chuckled nervously, as we both watched the chocolate bars and iPads sink to the bottom of the swimming pool. “Nothing,” he said bluntly, walking away from me. “Leave me alone.” “You’re quite bitter, aren’t you?” He made no reply. “You’re sticking around longer today though… are you curious?” I called out after him. He flinched slightly, stopping in his tracks briefly. “No.” Sighing, I clicked my fingers dramatically and changed the scenery around us. The dreamy meadow transitioned into an abyss of light, almost blinding the two of us. Alarmed, he jumped back, not accustomed to this floating environment. There was no floor. “Hey! This isn’t funny,” he cried, crouching down, scared. “I’ll just wake up…” He threatening voice trailed off as I appeared beside him again, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Have you ever wondered how it would feel to fly?” I asked. Underneath my touch, fluttering, majestic curtain-like wings started to flow from his back. “I know you’ve dreamed of such,” I whispered, referring to his childhood aspiration of being a pilot.

I changed the scene once more, placing us high above the sunlit meadow. I watched as his eyes glistened. Perhaps brief, but for a moment, he looked genuinely amazed and curious. He quickly turned to me, observing me. His face flipped into a frown, and he scowled, “Nice try. But I’m not signing up for this horror movie content.” At that, he quickly woke up, crumbling the world once more. Exasperated, I found myself back where I started. I waited another day. I needed him to stay. His lack of sleep was concerning.

The day passed. “Guess what?” I said instantly, as soon as he began to dream once more. “It’s me!” He didn’t reply. “Fine, don’t speak. Just stay.” I said. Suddenly, I held my hands up, generating a comforting cottage before us, surrounded by a small lake and a few trees. He looked on, intrigued. “You don’t have to explore if you don’t want to,” I said softly. “But in case you want to sit down or something, feel free to stay in this cottage.” He couldn’t deny it. He was curious. Curious about the cottage. Curious about me. Curious about these dreams. “I’ll leave you now,” I said, walking off. “No pressure.” I had only taken a few steps, when I heard him call out from behind me, “Wait!” I stopped. “Please… could you… stay?” He said slowly. “Here, with me?” My eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t want to be left alone. With a gentle smile, I replied, “Sure.” “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he quickly snapped. “I’m not saying this because I like you or something… I just don’t trust this place, and want you to be here too.” “Yeah yeah, so you’d rather be with me, an even MORE untrustworthy person, to explore the shady cottage with you,” I joked, nudging him. We stepped inside, with him following behind me, uneasy. Sunlight poured through the windows, lighting up the attractive interior. There was an invitingly soft couch in the centre, and I could tell he was drawn to it. Even in his dreams, he was exhausted. “Go on,” I said encouragingly. “I’ll stay in the kitchen.” He collapsed to the couch as soon as I was out of view, and fell asleep almost instantly. “Huh,” I whispered to myself. “Asleep in a sleep. Poor guy must be so tired.” I sat on a chair in the kitchen, allowing the tranquil light to absorb me as I smiled contentedly.

Hours passed, and eventually he woke up from both of his sleeps, causing the world to fade away once more. He woke up, feeling refreshed and rested. He hadn’t slept for 7 hours straight in such a long time. It felt… comforting.

That day, instead of waiting impatiently for his return, I spent the day wandering the city and observing the school classes. I was the same age aa he was, after all. I was just a teenager who never had any childhood. The mischief of the classes’ back rows were consistent. Students glanced out the windows sighing. The students rejoiced once out of class, all rushing to the cafeteria and lining up at the vending machines. Students sat together under the trees, blocking out the dazzling sun. I saw groups playing some card games, screaming at the tricksters and grinning with their teammates. A shy girl stood in the corner, eventually approached by a boy, holding a pretty flower, with his friends watching, encouraging him to confess. Another person sat on a bench, absorbed by the book he was reading, ignoring all the students around him. A group of students played football too, apologising earnestly upon accidentally hitting a girl passing by.

All had individual lives. Their own story to tell. They were all main characters, of course, for their own stories of life.

I walked through the school field, past all these students. They could not see me, for I was invisible.

However, as I passed, I felt a movement brush against my shoulder. A human had walked by. That was odd. A spirit like me can not be affected by the physical touch of humans.

I brushed it off, considering it a delusion formed as a result of my hard work crafting these recent dreams.

But I soon realised the truth. As I continued to stroll through the fields, I slowly noticed the students staring. They were staring, mouths open, and some pointed. I looked around, wondering. They began to clear a path, and the field was empty before me. They were staring at me! But how? They can’t see me. My long spirit gown fluttered in the winds.

Before me stood the boy who dreamt. He walked over to me in disbelief.

A voice whispered in my ear, “Be free, young one.” My senior. They had set me free.

On my new human legs, I walked over to meet the boy. He smiled, and whispered, “What about the cottage?” “There’s more to life.” I grinned.

END

*whoops that sounds like a line from Lookism:

“I did not cry then, for I had never learned what sadness was.” - Jonggun, chapter 521

My name is Aisling. I come from a family of architects. We are commonly known by humans as the mythical “sand men.” We are responsible for creating dreams. During our apprenticeship, each architect is assigned to an individual. We watch over them during the day so that we can craft their dreams at night based on the day’s events.

I was assigned to a girl named Emma. Architects are not supposed to form attachments with humans, but after watching Emma for the past month, something is stirring within me—new emotions that I’ve never felt before.

Emma has a very sweet spirit. She is kind toward everyone she meets, and she does very well in school. And yet—how is it that she is bullied every day? The other girls at school mock her and shun her because her clothes are old. Why is it that she must return to an empty home? Her mother is forced to work multiple jobs to make ends meet after her father abandoned them. This sweet, beautiful flower is being slowly crushed by those around her.

Tonight, I want to let her know that she is not alone. I cannot appear in her dream, of course, but I can create a character in her dream—a prince, perhaps, like those she reads about—that behaves similarly to me.

I wait for her to fall asleep, and then I start weaving a dream. I start by placing Emma in a dank dungeon. Then I create my prince character. Acting and speaking through him, I walk up to her jail cell where she is softly weeping. “May I be of service, Miss?” I ask.She gasps softly and looks up to face the prince—to face me. I smile at her and, grabbing a key from my pocket, I unlock the door to let her out. She wipes her nose and shyly approaches me—the prince.

“Who are you? Why are you helping me?” she murmurs.

Grinning, I reply—the price replies, “My name is Prince Alvar. I have come to free you, your highness, from your unrighteous bondage.”

She smiles and curtsies. “Thank you, your highness.”

The prince—I—offer my hand to her and say, “Let me take you on a journey you’ll never forget.” With that, we step out of the darkness into the light. I know that she will be facing her troubles again tomorrow, but maybe I can give her something to cling to through this dream.

Love was a soft death Much like drowning, something life-giving wrapping around you and choking breath from your lungs.

She was radiant Her dreams were gentle and comforting, conforming easily to trained hands. Her skin was milk-fresh, shining and smooth, lit with star-song and incense. I built for her once, to begin. But I knew my limits. Her smile captivated me. Her eyes were onyx, cunning, lively. I would not return, I swore.

I do not dream. But if I did, it would be of her.

I do not love. But if I did, I would love her only.

I am weak. I hid away in a masked crowd. It was a ball, I presume, glittering and warm. Some hidden depth laid in the floor, product of my influence or hers I did not know- will never know. She found me. I could not keep away. We danced. She was sure-footed and sly, exchanging comments with passerby's, flirty and shy alike. Her boldness made my chest ache. I wanted for her more than ever. She spoke to me, as well. Oh, her sweet words and ringing laughter were as Moses' doves, my shaking hands the olive branch. A chaste kiss at the end of the night. On my cheek, with a grin. I enjoyed it, she whispered. À bientôt. I am ill without her.

We do meet again. In a city, on a stage. Music swells around us as our gazes touch. Her voice is like peach juice, hot and thick on a summer's day. It runs down your chin and fills your nose with sweet perfume. It fills you yet you are hungry for more. She plays a maiden and I, her captor. She falls into my arms with too much grace. Too much trust. She must feel my heart beat almost through my barely-there body, yet she clings to me as though I am worth something. As though I am not pitiful, scrambling in darkness without her light. If she was the sun, I want her to burn me. If she was a beast, I would desire nothing more then for her to kill me. I would let her take me alive and finish me off, just so I could spend my last moments in her embrace.

I know that there is a life outside dreams. I have never gone. We are forbidden, at the cost of our immortality, to visit. Lest we get attached. It is too late. But for her sake, I see her only when she sleeps. Tonight, she is a queen. I serve her. There is nothing more pleasurable to me then to foot her every need. She is ruthless, a chess piece with no king to protect, a sword with no sheath. She keeps me by her side always. I suspect she may remember me, and my stomach pools with dread and delight. Her hands brush my neck, seeing if I will flinch, but I keep steady. It is all I need to see her again. This is what I tell myself as I plait her hair (thick and velvet, heavy in my scarred hands, smooth) before she returns to the waking world. I will not destroy us out of selfishness. (I will. I am a fool.)

This will be the last time. I was no traitor to myself. I meet her outside a bar. Her beret is askew. A cigarette is between two fingers, smoke falling from rosy lips. She gestures wordlessly for me to step foreward. I cannot help but comply. She grabs my tie. Our kiss is passion and pure and pain. I have never felt so helpless. She is fury and madness and beauty. Nothing I could create would be worthy to hold her within it. I am not worthy to breath her air, to touch her hair, to bring my mouth to hers. She is the breaking dawn, the bleeding wound, the ringing in my ears. Her nails dig into my shoulder. She drags me into the bar, ordering strong whisky I won't be able to stomach. We do not speak much, but she does kiss me again. Desperately, I reciprocate. I was dead from the begining.

Our eyes meet in the coffeeshop. Stimuli is new, sound is new, the real solid world spinning around me like a dizzying light display. But her eyes lock me in place. The recognition is grounding. Her gasp sends me stepping toward her. Every breath is a struggle, increasingly similar to inhailing water. Drown me, I ask. Gladly, she responds.

Hopeless dreamer Isn’t she lovely I’d just like to meet her But she doesn’t see me

Get her attention Just say Hi I guess I should mention Never say goodbye

I could see her. I really could. Her eyes shined with wonder and affection, yet deep withen her gaze I saw chaos as well. Her hair fell in dark loose waves that almost seemed to float around her.

I fell for her the way you fall from the grasp of a wonderfull dream. All at once.

I swear she was real. I thought of her every day, my memory of our conversations always strongest in the morning.

She haunted me, like a nightmare. She was everything to me. And yet she was always gone by daybreak.

Who was this mystery girl? I’ll never know.

I am the queen of the architects. I have two rules. The first is you may not create dreams for yourself or others. The second is you may not interact with the humans. The first rule is not broken often. If someone does break it, they are banished to live among humans. They were the ones eager to experience dreams. The second has never been broken. Until now. I can’t technically prove that he has fallen for her. But it is only a matter of time before he does something irrational, unexpected, and dangerous. Only a matter of time before I have to rescue a young human girl.

Repost cus I have writers block 😜

I am made entirely of flaws Stitched together by good intentions Those stitches The yarn You Don’t you see You’re the thread You’re the reason they look past my flaws On those rainy march days My eyes heavy My skin red and splotty You are there to fix this broken doll My wool hair I have cut off For it is not good enough You sew on silk in its place The buttons that were eyes were too small You found bigger ones Slowly your threads made me me Except me is now you Not that I’m complaining I love you They love you But did you fix it If all you did Was change my imperfections?

I’ve got turkey and ham roasting, stuffing, potatoes, cranberry sauce, all to be inhaled in the next couple hours. Apple pie for dessert. Then we crash into a food coma. No time to write something Prompt-worthy! Whatever you’re doing/celebrating, have a good one!

She watched him sleep, as she often did.

He never knew she was there, and she could never let that happen. It was against everything that she stood for, everything that she lived for. But there was something about him that was different from all the others. And so she watched him, sleeping, as the hours passed and the darkened skies journeyed toward dawn.

She had been an Architect for as long as she could remember. Theirs is not a world that you and I can comprehend. She did not have a childhood, at least one she could remotely remember. From her perspective, she had always been an Architect, crafting dreams that guided, inspired, reassured, or directed. It was her existence. Sometimes, when it was needed, she brought nightmares. She hated those. She hated suspending a dreamer in space and forcing them to drop into a realm that only brought terror and screams. She wasn't an Architect for that reason. It made her sad when she did it. But she had to do it sometimes. It was part of the Purpose.

He was different. She never brought him bad dreams. She brought only those of love and reassurance. And somehow, as she cast her net over him and pulled him into her world, he smiled. It was that little boy's smile, despite his age, that had first startled her. Now, she watched him, hoping for that smile, and satiated when it came.

He had a guest tonight. She had watched, part of curiosity and part of duty. He was hers. She brought him the dreams that she watched play out across his face. But now there was another. It made her feel different.

So she brought the woman a nightmare. She dug down deep and brought out a terror so horrible that it made her wince. Because this woman with him had a real reason for nightmares, it was almost too easy. But it still made the architect sad. She was sad that an interloper had intruded into her place, her space of reaching him.

The woman screamed. The Architect faded into the shadows. The man bolted up and held the woman as she sobbed quietly.

"You're safe; it's over," he said. "You're safe. It won't happen again. It's over."

But in the shadows, the Architect watched. It was not over. Not while this stranger was with her beloved.