River only had four weeks to prepare himself for the Dream Realm. So from dawn till dusk, River trained til his muscles ached, his lungs burned, and his mind sharpened with every lesson that was drilled into him. The days began to blur together, each one a cycle of exhaustion and progress.
In the mornings, Instructor Rock, in the name of endurance training, forced the sleepers to run laps through the shifting terrain of the Riftfield. It was designed to mimic different environments of the Dream Realm in order to help sleepers grow familiar with the types of landscapes they might experience. According to some of the conversations that he overheard from sleepers, it was quite the marvel of ingenuity. Not that River particularly cared too much about it; to him, it was just another sadistic playground built to break him down. He couldn't care less about its "innovative design." Whoever thought this was a good idea could take their genius and shove it.
But the endurance training didn't stop there. Oh no, once they finished their punishing laps through the Riftfield, River and the others were immediately forced into doing weighted body exercises—because apparently, running wasn't enough. Instructor Rock had a special fondness for making them push their limits in every possible way. He ensured that every muscle in his body was burning long before the sun reached its peak because, according to him, "You think you're tired now? Just wait until the Dream Realm starts tearing you apart. This is the easy part." Despite knowing he was right, River couldn't help but think that maybe Rock was trying to break them before they even got there.
Thankfully, they were given a brief grace period to get food after each session. It wasn't much—just enough to keep them from collapsing, but it was the only time that River could catch a moment of relief. Not that it helped much when his arms barely worked well enough to lift a spoon.
In the afternoon, Instructor Rock dragged them into the training grounds for combat training. Every strike, every dodge, and every misstep etched experience into his very bones. River's combat inexperience was slowly disappearing, replaced by the hard, unforgiving truth of battle. The constant drills, the sparring, the virtual reality sessions, and the relentless critique from Rock chipped away at his hesitation, forcing him to move faster, think quicker, and strike harder. He was becoming more efficient, less reactive, and—though he hated to admit it—more dangerous. The training was just as effective as it was harsh.
Evenings were spent studying aspects of the Nightmare Spell he barely understood, chasing knowledge that felt just out of reach. Professor Cecilia ensured that not a single known aspect of the Nightmare Spell went unknown to us. It didn't matter if it was obscure pieces of history, dead languages, types of memories, or even characteristics of Nightmare Creatures. She somehow seemed to have unending knowledge of each, which left River wondering if there was anything she didn't know.
But worst of all, his nights were spent bickering with Tongue Ripper over the stupidest things. At first, River seemed a bit surprised that Tongue Ripper even spared him a moment's glance after his initial performance with Earl of Oak, but River soon came to realize that Tongue Ripper just really enjoyed fucking with him.
It didn't matter how exhausted River was—somehow, the other Sleeper always found the energy to start something. One night, it was over whose fighting stance was more effective. The next, it was about whether the Riftfield's swamp section smelled worse than the dorm's communal showers. And on one particularly ridiculous occasion, they nearly came to blows over Tongue Ripper insisting that River couldn't possibly fight in the Dream Realm without first mastering the art of eating soup.
It wasn't just the topics that were absurd—it was Tongue Ripper's sheer audacity. He had a talent for saying the most infuriating things with a perfectly straight face, as if daring River to react. And, of course, River always did.
"Listen, I'm just saying, if you had to fight one, would you rather take on a hundred duck-sized Nightmares Creatures or one Nightmare Creature sized duck?" Tongue Ripper asked, his voice carrying through the dimly lit dorm.
River groaned, barely lifting his head from his pillow. "Why is this what you're thinking about right now?"
"Answer the question."
"I don't care."
"You should. What if this is an actual choice in the Dream Realm?"
"It's not."
"But what if it is?"
River exhaled sharply and turned on his side. "Fine. The hundred small ones."
"Wrong choice," Tongue Ripper said immediately. "That's way too many enemies. You'd get overwhelmed."
"You literally just made up this scenario! How can I be wrong?"
"Because you didn't think it through." Tongue Ripper sat up, sounding way too enthusiastic for someone who had endured the same grueling training all day. "A Nightmare Creature sized duck would be one enemy. Ducks don't even have arms. You could just dodge."
"Ducks have wings, you idiot."
"Yeah, but they're not, like, good wings."
River massaged his temples. "I swear, I will strangle you in your sleep."
Tongue Ripper just laughed. "You'd miss me. Admit it."
And just like that, River was sitting up again, continuing to argue while completely forgetting how much his body ached. It was a cycle, an infuriating, exhausting cycle—and yet, as much as he hated to admit it, it had become a strangely comforting part of his nights.
Tongue Ripper may be an insane bastard, but that was the thing—he was consistent in a world that felt like it was shifting under River's feet every second; that unrelenting barrage of ridiculous arguments was something stable, something predictable. Even if it drove him mad, it was a reminder that he wasn't alone in this. They were both struggling, both surviving in their own way. And for all the insanity, for all the annoyance, there was a weird kind of camaraderie in it. At least, that's what River told himself, even as he rolled his eyes and got ready to argue over the next completely pointless thing.
And maybe that was the point of it all—the feeling of being in something together, even if it was just over the dumbest debates. The Academy training was harsh. It was merciless. But for the first time in a long while, River had never felt more alive.
For years, he'd had nothing—no home, no safety, no purpose beyond surviving the next day. The outskirts had taken everything from him, leaving only the hollow shell of a boy with no one to remember his name. But here, in the relentless cycle of pain and progress, he was carving himself into something more. He wasn't just surviving—he was fighting, growing, becoming.
For the first time since his family was taken from him, he felt like he was moving toward something instead of running from it.
***
Before he even knew it, the day of the Winter Solstice had finally arrived. It was early in the morning, and like usual, River woke up to the obnoxiously loud snoring of Tongue Ripper.
"I swear I'm going to shut that man up for good one day," River half-heartedly remarked under his breath.
Yet, unlike usual, River felt unnaturally drowsy to the point where he couldn't muster the will to pull himself out of bed. Instead, opting to just lie peacefully without a care in the world. It was his last day alive, after all. What was the point of getting up? The warmth of his blankets was too comforting, too inviting, wrapping around him like a cocoon.
Just as he was starting to drift back into sleep, he felt the bed shift, followed by a loud, annoying voice. His eyes snapped open just in time to see Tongue Ripper hovering over him with a wide, devilish grin, holding a bucket.
"Of course," River groaned under his breath.
"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!" Tongue Ripper's voice rang out as a cold splash of water hit River in the face.
River shot up, sputtering in shock. His blankets, once so comforting and warm, were now a sopping wet mess. He glared at Tongue Ripper, who stood at the edge of the bed, wearing an annoyingly triumphed grin.
"You have about five seconds to run," River said, voice low and dangerous.
Tongue Ripper's grin only widened. "Oh, I'd love to see you try, sweetheart."
That was it. That was the last straw.
Ignoring his exhaustion, River lunged out of bed, swinging a wild punch at Tongue Ripper, who barely dodged it with a laugh. "Oh, come on, that was sloppy," he taunted, backing toward the door.
River was already moving, fueled by equal parts fury and sleep deprivation. But just as he reached for him, Tongue Ripper ducked and darted out of the room, cackling the entire way.
"Get back here, you bastard!" River shouted, shoving past a half-asleep sleeper as he tore after Tongue Ripper.
"Gotta catch me first, Sleeping Beauty!"
The chase led them straight into the hallway, where other sleepers—some just waking up, others already heading out—starred in either amusement or mild horror as River tore after Tongue Ripper.
"Morning, boys," Iris mumbled as she sidestepped out of their way.
"Not now, Iris," River snapped, too focused on his target to care.
Tongue Ripper took a sharp turn, heading toward the cafeteria. River was already preparing to tackle him when the other sleeper suddenly skidded to a stop, causing River to nearly crash into him.
Before River could even ask what the hell he was doing, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"If you two idiots are done screwing around," Instructor Rock growled, his towering form appearing at the end of the hall, "you can spend your last day scrubbing the training grounds instead of eating. Or you can get to the cafeteria like you've actually got some sense. Your choice."
River's stomach dropped. The smug look on Tongue Ripper's face vanished.
"Shit," Tongue Ripper muttered.
Before River could even blame him for this mess, Rock took a step forward, and instinct took over.
"Yes, sir," they both said in perfect sync.
Rock narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Then move before I change my mind."
Their little morning war was over.
River shot one last glare at Tongue Ripper, who simply gave him a cheeky wink before he turned and made his way to the cafeteria.
With a long sigh, River shook his head and trudged after Tongue Ripper toward the cafeteria. If this was going to be his last breakfast, he might as well make it count. But as he entered the cafeteria, he noticed the lack of commotion amongst the sleepers; it was almost dead silent. Everyone seemed to be feeling the weight of the impending doom that faced them all. The only ones who seemed unaffected by the tension were a few of the Legacies, their stoic expressions betraying nothing, and—of course—Tongue Ripper, who was happily devouring a mountain of food as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. His carefree attitude seemed completely out of place in the oppressive silence.
'I just don't get how he's always in such good spirits…'
But at the sight of the food, River's stomach growled, but the silence hanging over the room made it feel like more of a chore than a comfort. Ignoring the uneasy feeling creeping up his spine, he grabbed a tray and shuffled toward the food line, grabbing whatever was closest.
He then made his way through the cafeteria, the clatter of trays and the low murmurs of the few who dared speak adding an almost surreal sense of normalcy to the otherwise heavy atmosphere. River's gaze flicked over the room, noting the tense expressions, the way everyone seemed to be bracing for something.
Finally, he spotted an empty seat next to Iris and made his way over. She was sitting alone, absently picking at her food, her eyes glazed with something that wasn't quite worry but certainly wasn't peace.
They had become sort of close over the short four weeks that the Spell had granted to them, only really spending time together in their classes and the occasional meal together. She was one of the only few, despite his flaw, that actually treated him with a bit of respect and helped him out with some of the basic knowledge he was lacking due to his upbringing.
"Mind if I sit?" River asked, sliding into the chair across from her.
Iris glanced up, offering him a small, tired smile. "It's the last day, might as well."
River set his tray down with a thud, the silence between them stretching for a moment as he began to poke at his food, still not quite hungry but knowing he had to eat. "You feeling okay?" he asked, watching her closely.
Iris shrugged. "What's the point of feeling okay? We all know what's coming."
River didn't argue. He understood.
"Fair enough," he muttered, taking a bite of his toast.
The silence lingered, thick and oppressive, neither of them speaking for a long while. River tried to eat, but his food tasted bland in his mouth, the weight of the day sitting heavy on his chest.
Iris shifted in her seat, letting out a soft sigh. "Guess we should make the best of today, huh?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's the only choice we've got left."
River nodded absently before he pushed his plate aside, suddenly no longer hungry.
"I think I'm gonna go for a walk," he muttered. "Clear my head."
Iris gave a brief nod, not looking up from her food. "Take care, River."
He gave her a small nod in return, standing up from the table and walking away. His footsteps echoed through the stillness of the cafeteria as he made his way toward the door, the weight of the day making each step feel heavier than the last.
River knocked on Cecilia's door, pushing it open without waiting for a reply. She looked up from her desk, a soft smile tugging at her lips.
The hallways were just as quiet as the cafeteria, almost as though the entire academy was holding its breath. River found himself wandering aimlessly, his thoughts a jumbled mess of uncertainty and regret. But then, his feet took him in the direction he knew he needed to go.
It didn't take long to reach Professor Cecilia's office. The door was closed, but the soft glow of light peeking through the cracks told him that she was still inside. He hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the doorknob before he knocked gently.
"Come in."
He opened the door slowly, and there she was—Professor Cecilia, sitting at her desk, a stack of papers in front of her. Her eyes lifted from her work, and for a moment, she didn't say anything, just looking at him with those calm, observant eyes.
"River, what's the occasion?" she asked, her tone light and warm.
He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Just thought I'd drop by and say thanks for the whole 'trying to keep me from dying' thing."
Cecilia chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with fondness. "I'm just glad you didn't make it harder than it had to be."
River rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh, I'm sure I made it just difficult enough."
She stood, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder with a soft, motherly squeeze. "You've done more than enough, River. You've got more heart than you give yourself credit for. Just remember that, alright?"
He gave her a smirk, shrugging her hand off lightly. "Yeah, yeah. I'll keep that in mind… if I survive today."
"You will," she said with a gentle smile, "but in case you don't, I'm proud of you."
River, suddenly feeling a bit out of place, shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. He wasn't used to this kind of kindness. "Uh… thanks," he muttered, awkwardly running a hand through his hair.
He nodded, not quite meeting her eyes, before quickly turning and walking out. Her smile, warm and motherly, lingered in his mind, but he couldn't quite shake the discomfort it left behind.
After that, there wasn't much to do.
As the sun neared the horizon, Instructor Rock gathered the group in the foyer of the Sleeper center and led them outside. The snow-covered parks surrounding the white building were alive with others Awakened, each escorting their own batches of Sleepers to the same destination—the Academy's medical center.
The center itself resembles more of a shrine than a typical hospital. Inside, cutting-edge technology blended seamlessly with the skills of the Academy's best Healers. For their first journey into the Dream Realm, the Sleepers would be placed in specially designed pods, their bodies protected and sustained by the magic of the Healers in case anything went wrong during the Spell.
Of course, whether they would awaken at all depended entirely on the Sleepers themselves.
As Instructor Rock led them through the corridors, River couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. Instead of heading directly to the wing housing the Sleeper pods, Rock turned into a quieter, almost deserted section of the medical center. He opened the doors to a large gallery, the walls bathed in the warm crimson light of the setting sun.
'Where are we going?' River thought, stepping cautiously inside. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the rows of wheelchairs, each occupied by a person with a blank, peaceful expression on their face. The individuals sat still, utterly detached, as if River and the other Sleepers weren't even there.
The air felt thick with an unnerving silence, and River couldn't help but shiver. These people—these figures—seemed devoid of life, their eyes empty of emotion.
Instructor Rock's voice cut through the quiet, filled with a heavy seriousness. "There's a reason I brought you here. Some of you may know who these people are. For the rest of you, they are called Hollow. Look at them. Remember them."
River's stomach twisted as he took in the sight of the eerily still figures.
"Each of these individuals was once either a Sleeper or an Awakened," Rock continued, his tone hardening. "Some were weak, some were strong, but all of them perished in the depths of the Dream Realm."
'… They've lost their souls,' River realized with a sickening jolt.
Instructor Rock's gaze hardened as he looked over the Hollow. "If you're unlucky, your body will die along with your spirit. But if you're even more unfortunate, you'll become one of them. A Hollow."
There was a long pause as Rock let the weight of his words settle over them.
He glanced at the hollow-eyed figures one last time. "So don't die out there."
***
Around half an hour later, the Sleepers had been led to their own personal rooms and mentally prepared themselves before beginning to enter their pods.
In one of the rooms, Iris silently gazed at the Sleeper pod in front of her, her expression distant, as if lost in thought. For a brief moment, there was a quiet sadness in her eyes, a kind of resignation. But then, as if something had shifted, she straightened, her features smoothing over, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. The change was subtle, but it was there—her demeanor, once heavy, now seemed lighter, almost as if she had pushed the weight aside.
In the other room, Earl of Oak stretched his wooden limbs toward the window as if savoring the last warmth of the fading sunlight before it disappeared beneath the horizon.
In another room, Syf of Aegis Rose sat cross-legged on the floor, his posture perfect, eyes closed in deep meditation. His breathing was slow and steady, each inhale and exhale deliberate.
Somewhere else, Tongue Ripper practically bounced into the Sleeper pod, his grin wide and manic as he fidgeted with excitement. His hands twitched, fingers drumming against the edges of the pod as if he couldn't wait to get started.
And finally, in a poorly equipped room, River glared at his surroundings, annoyance creeping up his spine. The room's bare walls and dim light felt suffocating, a reflection of how others saw him—weak, unworthy, insignificant.
He clenched his fists, the sting of being looked down on by the others biting at him. The thought of it made his jaw tighten. "It doesn't matter," he muttered under his breath. "None of this matters."
With a heavy sigh, he leaned back against the wall, the coldness of it biting through his clothes, and closed his eyes. There was no point in dwelling on it now. The dream realm awaited, and maybe, just maybe, that would be his chance to prove everyone wrong.
With that thought in mind, he stepped forward and climbed into the pod.
***
In the vast echoing darkness, he heard:
[Welcome to the Dream Realm, River!]