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I watched Uhah, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the subtle twitch of his fingers.
From the outside, it looked deceptively peaceful, nothing like the cacophony that resonated from his dreams.
“Defenses? Like traps?” I ventured, trying to grasp the complexity of dreamwalking.
“Exactly. Our minds naturally protect our subconscious. When an intruder, like a dreamwalker, tries to enter, the mind fights back. It can trap you, twist your perception, or worse. It can feel like sinking in quicksand, or the stifling aroma of decay, or the distant echoes of your own panicked screams.”
I swallowed hard. “If we don’t enter his dream, how do we find the way out?”
Tix turned to face me, the determination in his eyes unyielding. “We don’t. This is the only way out of here. You can’t go into his nightmare, not yet. It’s too dangerous. You must train. I’ve been in many dreams, but nothing as potent as Uhah’s. We need to be prepared to strengthen our abilities. Together, we stand a chance.”
The realization of the magnitude of our task began to weigh on me.
My senses were heightened; every shadow, every whisper, seemed to bear significance.
The comforting touch of Tix’s hand and the warmth of his presence were the only anchors grounding me in this surreal reality.
“What sort of training are we talking about?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.
Tix’s lips curled into a hint of a smile. “Dreamwalking, navigating nightmares, building mental defenses, and, most importantly, understanding the bond between us. Our connection might be our greatest asset.”
I took a deep breath. “When do we start?”
His smile widened, the mischief in his eyes unmistakable. “As soon as we can.”
* * *
Tix brought me back to the observation deck.
Flickers of dreamers snapped in and out of existence.
That always happened with greater frequency when nighttime was coming to an end.
Unable to hold back my curiosity any longer, I turned to Tix with a questioning look. “How did you come to know about this secret exit in the first place?”
Tix sighed, his face taking on a pensive expression. “It was years ago, not long after I’d been captured and brought here to Ikmal,” he began, his voice soft. “I wasn’t always this adept at navigating dreams. At the beginning, I was more like a lost child, stumbling upon others’ dreams and occasionally helping them navigate their nightmares.”
I could almost feel the weight of his memories, and the vision before me shifted momentarily to a younger, more vulnerable Tix, lost and scared in the dreamworld.
“I became close friends with a particular prisoner. He was much older, on the brink of death, haunted by terrifying nightmares. Despite his fragile state, he had an air of wisdom about him. The whiff of old books and wood smoke always seemed to follow him, even in this ethereal realm.”
As he continued, I saw fleeting images — Tix, holding the hand of an elderly man, guiding him through a dense forest, the night alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant howls.
I could almost feel the cool breeze on my face, hear the soft whispers of reassurance between them.
“He knew he was nearing his end. And he trusted me, Grace. One night, as we sat by a dreamy campfire, the warmth of the flames tickling my skin, the burning cedar filling the air, he shared a secret.”
Tix paused, taking a deep breath as though the weight of the memory was hard to bear. “He told me that when Ikmal was constructed, a secret exit was embedded within its foundations. An exit not on any official blueprint. Only those deeply involved in the construction knew of its existence.”
I blinked, trying to grasp the magnitude of what he was saying. “Why would they build a secret exit in a prison?”
Tix’s lips twisted into a rueful smile. “For emergencies, I suppose. Or perhaps a hidden way out for the privileged few. Corruption isn’t exclusive to Earth, you know. Even in galaxies far away, power plays and secrets thrive.”
My senses felt heightened as I processed this.
The sounds of the dreamworld around us seemed more intense; the distant chirping of imaginary birds, the soft rustle of non-existent trees, the tantalizing aroma of dream-born flowers.
“And Uhah? How does he fit into this?” I questioned, pulling myself back to the present.
