River stared at Iris, stunned into silence. His gaze drifted to the fire, its soft crackle suddenly deafening against the weight of her words. What could he even say to something like that? No amount of comfort could ever erase the image burned into her memory—the faces she left behind, the screams she couldn't drown out, the helplessness that still clung to her voice.
He stayed quiet for a moment, the firelight flickering in his eyes. Then, slowly, his voice broke the silence—low and rough.
"…I won't pretend to understand what you went through. I don't think I ever could." He glanced down, fingers curling slightly. "But I know what it's like to make a promise you can't keep."
Iris looked over at him, eyes still wet.
He paused, the firelight flickering across his face. "When I was younger, a Category Three Gate broke out near a port I was at," he said, almost like he was recalling a dream. "My parents had just left on a fleet bound for overseas. And as the man of the house while they were gone, I told them I'd take care of Grandma. That I'd protect her no matter what."
His voice tightened. "But in the end… she was the one to protect me. Before the evacuation ship could leave us behind to be consumed by the horde of Nightmare Creatures. She threw me onto the ship just seconds before it could leave us."
Iris's breath caught.
"I remember looking back. She was still smiling." His voice cracked, just barely. "She knew what was about to happen. And she smiled anyway."
He took a breath, eyes locked on the fire. "And shortly after that, I learned that my parents died in some stupid political conflict. And I never got to apologize for breaking that promise. It still haunts me to this day."
Silence returned, thick but not suffocating.
"…You lost everything," he said softly, finally meeting her gaze again. "And even though it's not the same, I know what it's like to carry that. The helplessness. The guilt. The weight of it."
He let out a small breath, barely a whisper. "I'm still carrying it too."
Iris stayed quiet for a long moment, her expression unreadable. The firelight danced in her eyes, casting shadows beneath them.
"… it's hard, isn't it?" she said softly, a hint of understanding clear in her voice.
She looked down at the fire before glancing back up at him. "To keep looking for meaning in a life that seems hell-bent on hollowing you out."
A faint, bitter smile tugged at her lips. "Guess we're both pretty stubborn, huh? Or just bad at giving up," she murmured.
"My mom always said I was the most stubborn kid she'd ever met," River said quietly, a faint, tired smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Wouldn't even let her win an argument when I was five. Thought I knew everything."
Iris let out a hollow laugh, her eyes flicking back to the fire as she took a brief pause. "It doesn't get easier, does it? Living with it. You think if you just keep moving, keep fighting, it'll stop hurting. But it never really does. It just becomes different."
She leaned back slightly, exhaling through her nose. "Still… it's nice to know someone else gets it."
Her gaze found him again.
"Thanks for telling me." Iris spoke with a gentle voice. Then, softer—almost too soft to hear: "… I'm glad you made it onto that ship."
They talked for a long while after that—quiet voices shared between crackling firelight and distant sounds. It wasn't anything profound, just pieces of themselves they hadn't let anyone see in a long time. Bits of old memories, old scars. River shared more than he meant to, and Iris listened like she understood every unspoken word. Eventually, the fire died down, and with it, the weight of their confessions settled into something quieter.
By the time the sun was about to set, they packed up their things and began the slow climb up the cliff. At the top, a pack of scavengers ambushed them. The fight was short but messy, and by the time the last creature hit the dirt, both of them were too tired to speak.
After River scanned the area for any other creatures, they eventually settled down near the corpses of the scavengers and set up camp for the night. Iris collapsed onto her bedding not long after, exhaustion pulling her under.
River, on the other hand, found himself staring up at the starless night sky, lost in thought as he sat on top of the corpse of a scavenger. It hadn't been long since he opened up to Iris after hearing her story, but the moment kept replaying in his head like an itch he couldn't scratch.
He told her about his past–about the way he ended up in the outskirts, the way his parents had scolded him about his kleptomania, the way his life used to be before the gate outbreak. It had just… slipped out.
Why?
He scoffed softly to himself, dragging a hand through his hair. "What the hell am I doing?" he muttered under his breath.
He had spent years keeping people at arm's length away. Every smile was carefully restrained, every conversation calculated to reveal as little as possible. Trust, he had learned, was a weakness that invited betrayal. And over time, it became a truth etched into the core of who he was. People were not to be trusted, not with his thoughts, not with his fears, and certainly not with anything that truly mattered. Letting someone in was never an option.
And yet, with Iris, it felt different. Like it was okay to trust her, to let her in. That she understood, in her own way, what he was going through.
He didn't understand it.
He exhaled slowly, leaning backward with his arms stretched out behind him. "I barely know what I'm doing anymore," he whispered. "I should have kept my distance… but I didn't. I let it happen."
River sat there for a moment, looking up at the sky before exhaling.
"And the worst part? I don't even regret it."
The words left a bitter taste in his mouth. Letting someone in, even a little, was dangerous. But the weight in his chest wasn't regret—it was something else. Something he didn't have a name for yet. All he knew was that Iris was becoming something more to him than he previously expected. And that terrified him more than any creature in the Dream Realm ever could.
***
River found himself waking up to the briny scent of meat curling through the air. It was one of the more pleasant smells he'd encountered in the Dream Realm and one he often found himself waking up to recently. The scent drifted in gently, mingling with the saltiness of ocean air and the faint crackle of fire.
He lay still for a moment as he blinked blearily, rubbing at his eyes as the sky above began to shift from black to a muted gray-blue, the pale sun still hidden behind the jagged peaks. He sat up slowly, stretching his limbs as best as he could within the chitinous armor.
'I really need to find another armor memory that doesn't feel like sleeping in a damn coffin.'
Just a few feet away, Iris crouched over a small fire pit, her hair pulled back loosely as she cooked breakfast. A scavenger's skewer hissed above the flames, fat sizzling and popping in the heat.
"You're up," she said without looking, her tone casual. "Figured I'd let you sleep in until the food was ready."
River gave a small grunt in response, dragging himself upright. "It smells good."
Iris smirked slightly, still focused on the skewer. "Yeah, well. Don't get used to it. I'm not a chef, just desperate."
River gave a faint, tired chuckle as the sounds of the ocean retreating grew fainter as the sun rose higher over the horizon. He pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt, the stiffness of sleep still clinging to his limbs. The chitinous armor creaked slightly as he walked, each step muffled by sand and the occasional patch of damp stone.
He made his way toward the coral buckets they'd crafted last night—hollowed, hardened chunks created from the coral-like trees that extended out of the ground. Inside, water from the dark sea shimmered faintly in the pale sun, salt clinging like a haze beneath the surface.
River crouched beside one and reached out, calling on Glacial Veil.
A faint pulse of cold rippled through the air, the surface of the seawater beginning to still. Slowly, thin sheets of ice bloomed outward from the center. The salt remained behind in the water that didn't freeze, forming a darker, denser ring beneath the untouched surface.
River watched carefully, waiting. When enough of the ice had formed, he reached in and plucked the crystals free with careful hands, setting them aside inside another bucket. He repeated this process a couple more times until the bucket was full of ice.
And after some time, the ice began to thaw, melting slowly under the pale light. Droplets trickled down the sides, gathering into a growing pool at the bottom. Eventually, the bucket brimmed with cold, clear water.
He brought a bit of the water to his lips, letting it rest there for a second before swallowing. It was still a bit salty, but it was drinkable. And in the moment, that's all that mattered to him.
"Not bad," he muttered, taking another sip to quench his thirst.
It was one of the many techniques Professor Cecilia had taught him, tailored especially after learning about his "aspect." She was determined to ensure every sleeper could secure water on their own in the Dream Realm—no matter the circumstances.
At first, River had been surprised she even brought it up. It seemed so basic compared to the threats they trained for. But apparently, during the early days, countless Awakened from the first generation had died from a lack of water rather than beasts. Thus, she made an effort to teach it to all the sleepers who came to her class.
'Is it possible that she could tell the future?'
He'd lost count of how many times her lessons had saved his life. Over a dozen, easily. Each time, it made him wonder: how did she know exactly what they'd need before they ever stepped into danger? It was strange to think that if he hadn't chosen to take her class, he probably would have died long ago.
'Hopefully, I'll get the chance to return the favor someday.'
With no further delay, River walked back towards the small campsite with the bucket in hand before setting it down softly next to Iris. "It should be drinkable now."
She looked at him and offered a faint nod. "Thanks." Then, she handed him a skewer of scavenger meat and gestured softly to the spot next to her for him to sit down.
River hesitated slightly before he sat down, the warmth of the fire easing the stiffness in his joints as he took the skewer with a quiet murmur of appreciation. For a moment, they both ate in silence as River's mind drifted back to the sound of the sea fully retreating.
Then River spoke, glancing down at his skewer. "You know… I've been thinking." He nudged a piece of meat with his thumb. "What if we start using the salt from the sea to season our food?"
Iris blinked, then let out a low hum. "You're telling me it took two weeks of eating all sorts of abominations for you to realize we could make seasoning?"
River gave a tired grin. "Guess the desperation finally caught up to my brain." He took a bit of the meat and made a contemplative face. "And who says we have to stop at salt? Maybe if we season it right… the coral might not taste half bad either."
Iris's face looked slightly horrified at the thought. "Don't even joke about that."
River stared at her with a slightly confused expression. "Joke?" What did she mean by joke? He thought it was a brilliant idea.
Iris's face went slack with dread, all traces of amusement draining from her expression. She stared into the fire like it held the grim prophecy of her future, then muttered under her breath, barely audible.
"… I'm doomed."
"Doomed?" River blinked, surprised by her hesitation towards his idea. "I guess some people just don't understand my culinary genius." He shrugged with a tired shake of his head. Some people would just never get it. With nothing more to say, the campsite fell into a quiet stillness as River's mind wandered to new ways to combine ingredients and creatures for their next meal.
He tilted his head back slightly, eyes drifting toward the crimson coral that loomed behind their camp. It was strangely beautiful at times, the crimson sheen being muted by the pale sun as it twisted skyward like petrified veins.
And as he scanned it lazily, his eye caught onto a tall patch of coral lurking just a few meters from their campsite. He wasn't sure what exactly about it caught his eye; from the looks of it, it was completely normal. But as he narrowed his eyes slightly, he noticed something odd about it.
On one of the stalks, a strange piece of coral had a texture to it that didn't match the rest. The surface was too smooth and too dark to fully blend into the coral. Its shape was wrong, too—where the other coral blades twisted upward in jagged, natural spirals. This one bent slightly inward as if curling around something unseen.
'Strange…'
But that's all it was. Until… it blinked.