Page 807 of Fated Mates of Breeder Prison
The way she took command of the dreamscape was reminiscent of something I’d taught her months ago — the art of manipulating one’s surroundings within the dream realm.
It was a nifty trick, a survival skill that had saved us numerous times.
What she did last night was beyond anything I had seen, or taught her.
The abrupt shattering of the dreamscape, the potent shockwave she’d released — it was raw, untamed power.
Power that I didn’t even know she possessed.
I thought about her again, a flood of emotions washing over me.
Pride, awe, fear, and a fierce protectiveness.
She was so much more than the timid girl I’d met a short while ago, the one who had been so wary of diving into the abstract territories of dreamscapes.
She was a force to be reckoned with, and I felt incredibly fortunate to have her by my side.
Still, something gnawed at the back of my mind.
Grace’s outburst had caused more than just a shockwave.
I found myself changing direction and headed toward Uhah’s cell.
The door had been left open and I couldn’t help but creep up to it and glance in.
My mouth felt dry, I wasn’t sure if I hoped to see what might be there or not.
As I shoved the door open, the meager light from the outside windows cast a thick blanket of light over the back wall.
The crack was there.
I had to steady myself for fear I might lose balance.
I had expected it to be there — after all, the dreamworld could only reflect what was in the real world — but I still had to see it for myself.
It had to be an anomaly.
It was a phenomenon I had never encountered before, nor did I think was even possible.
I had heard tales of dream wanderers who could manipulate both dream and reality, but I had always dismissed them as mere folklore, tales told to entertain young dreamers.
Now, I had witnessed it.
I had seen the impossible become possible.
What did it mean?
Was it dangerous?
And more importantly, how could we fix it?
Lost in a dense forest of thoughts, I was barely aware of my surroundings as I turned a corner and ran into someone.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder, spinning me around and pushing me into a shallow alcove.
My back hit the wall hard, and I found myself staring into the hateful eyes of Fleth.
The memory of our last encounter was fresh — his humiliation in the pit, the laughing crowd, the white cloth that had momentarily brought his worst fears to the surface.
