Chapter 28 - Episode 18: The Jaws of Night

The late February night pressed against Crestwood like a cold fist, the snow outside Anne and Deon's apartment reduced to a thin, icy crust under a sky bruised with clouds. Inside, the fairy lights flickered erratically, casting jittery shadows as Anne and Deon sat on the couch, a blanket shared between them, their faces drawn with exhaustion. The dream world's impact had grown sharper since Gary's murder and Elias's death—whispers turning to voices, visions bleeding into reality—and sleep, once a refuge, now loomed as a battlefield. Madame Lazare's warning echoed in their minds: It's breaching—shadows take form—and the air hummed with a dread they couldn't name.Deon rubbed his eyes, his knuckles scabbed from old fights, his voice rough. "Heard it again—'Close, close'—like it's taunting me. You?"Anne nodded, her gray eyes shadowed, her fingers twisting the blanket. "Shadows—moving, talking. Last night, the bar was… wrong—blood everywhere, Gary laughing. Woke up, and the glass by the bed was cracked—didn't touch it."He pulled her closer, his arm a shield, but his own fear pulsed—nightmares weren't just dreams now; they were warnings, traps. "Lazare said it's feeding—Gary, Elias, the killer. What's it want?""Us," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Our guilt, our love—everything. She said it's waking—something old."The room chilled, the lights dimming as if listening, and a low growl rumbled—not from outside, but within—the dream world's jaws tightening around them.Across town, Madame Lazare stood in her shop, the opal pendant flaring as she crossed into the dream world alone, her tunic rippling in the silver forest's mist. The starry river churned, its waters black and turbulent, and the shadows swarmed—larger, bolder, their eyes glinting with a primal hunger she hadn't seen since Jonah's death. She'd faced nightmares as a child—twisted echoes of fear—but these were different, alive with intent: Dream Eaters, the dream world's oldest predators, roused by blood and emotion.Her mother, Elora, had warned her of them—entities born from the realm's creation, feeding on the essence of sleepers, growing strong on terror and despair. "They're the hunger's teeth," Elora had said, her voice a memory in the mist. "Give them nothing—fear, pain—or they take all." Mara had faced them once, at sixteen, a reckless crossing drawing a single Eater—a gaunt, long-limbed shadow with claws and a maw of jagged light—until Elora's sigil yanked her free. Now, they swarmed, a pack awakened by Gary's death, Elias's blood, the killer's rage—a feast she'd failed to starve.She moved deeper, the forest trembling, and saw Gary's echo—his chest gaping, his snarl sharper—joined by Elias's, his form faint, his voice a plea: It's them—they're coming. The Eaters circled, their forms coalescing—tall, sinewy, their skin like cracked obsidian, their mouths glowing with a sickly light, teeth snapping as they fed on the echoes' pain. Lazare's pendant pulsed, her sigil flaring, and she woke gasping, the shop's bulb flickering, her hands trembling—Dream Eaters, loose, hunting the living.That night, sleep claimed Anne and Deon despite their resistance, the couch a fragile bastion as the dream world swallowed them. Anne found herself in The Dandelion Pour—but not her bar. The counter dripped blood, the fairy lights pulsed red, and Gary stood behind it, his chest wound gaping, his grin a leer. "You wished this," he hissed, his voice a chorus, and the shadows moved—Dream Eaters, three of them, their claws scraping the floor, their maws glowing as they lunged.She ran, the bar twisting into the dandelion field—black now, fireflies gone—and the Eaters pursued, their growls a earthquake in her skull, their teeth snapping at her heels. "Deon!" she screamed, but he wasn't there, the field a cage of nightmare, her guilt a beacon drawing them closer. One seized her ankle, its claw cold as death, and she jolted awake, a cry tearing from her, her leg stinging—red marks blooming where it had gripped, the dream world's bite piercing reality.Deon woke beside her, his own nightmare fading—the silver forest, his childhood self with black eyes, Dream Eaters circling, their voices chanting: She'll break you. He gasped, sweat beading his brow, and saw Anne's marks, his hand flying to her leg. "Jesus—they're real," he said, his voice shaking, pulling her into his arms."They're coming," she sobbed, clinging to him, the room's air thick with their fear, the lights dimming as a growl echoed—not a dream now, but here.Nina, too, fell to the Eaters' reach, her apartment a trap as sleep snared her. She dreamed of a rally—Gary alive, Tom looming, shadows swarming—a nightmare born of her suspicion. The Eaters emerged, their obsidian forms towering, their maws snapping as they chased her through a warped Crestwood, Tom's voice echoing: You did this. She woke screaming, a lamp shattered beside her, her wrist bruised—another mark, the dream world's claws breaching her skin.Matt and Jacks, spared the night's worst, slept in their cozy bed, but even their dreams twisted—a quiet date turned dark, shadows lurking, a faint growl waking them in a cold sweat, the dream world's edge brushing their peace.Lazare raced to Anne and Deon's, her pendant flaring as she burst in, finding them on the couch, Anne's leg bleeding, Deon's face pale. "Dream Eaters," she rasped, her voice urgent, kneeling beside them. "Oldest shadows—feed on essence, roused by blood. Gary's death, Elias's—they're loose, hunting."Anne's breath hitched, her hand gripping Deon's. "They marked me—hurt me. What are they?""Hunger's teeth," Lazare said, her eyes sharp. "Born when the dream world was—eat fear, pain, life if they can. Crossings feed them—Gary's echo, Elias's—your guilt, his tie. They're breaching—marks first, then form. We've hours, maybe less."Deon's jaw clenched, his voice fierce. "How do we stop them?""Starve them," she said, pulling a sigil-carved stone from her pocket, pressing it into Anne's hand. "Hold your bond—love's their poison. I'll cross—cut their feed—but the killer's key. Blood's their gate."The room shuddered, a growl rumbling through the walls, and the lights died—darkness swallowing them as a shadow loomed, an Eater halfway through—an obsidian arm clawing the air, its maw glowing, snapping. Anne screamed, Deon shielding her, and Lazare thrust her pendant forward, its light flaring—a barrier, weak but holding—as the Eater snarled, retreating into the void."They're here," Lazare said, her voice trembling, the pendant dimming. "Hold tight—I'll fight them. Find the killer—now."She crossed, the silver forest a battlefield—Eaters swarming, Gary's echo roaring, Elias's fading—as she battled, her sigil flaring, buying time. Back in Crestwood, Anne and Deon clung to each other, the stone warm in her hand, their love a fragile shield as the dream world's jaws snapped, the danger no longer a dream but a waking nightmare closing in.