Every night, the Architect stepped into the boundless canvas of dreams, their hands weaving fears and desires into fleeting worlds. They were invisible, a ghost of creativity, sculpting lives they would never touch.

But one night, they lingered too long in the dream of a mortal. A painter. A dreamer who dared to look directly at them, as if they could see beyond the shimmering veil. The Architect tried to leave, but the dreamer whispered, “Stay.”

And so, they stayed.

Night after night, the Architect returned, carving fragments of their essence into the painter’s visions. But with each stolen moment, the edges of the dream unraveled, spilling colors into reality.

One morning, the painter awoke with gold dust on their fingertips and a name they had never spoken on their lips.