Zhou Wei nearly ran forward, scanning faces until he found his brother among those on the dais. Zhou Yun's spirit was there, lying flat with hands crossed over his chest like an effigy. Zhou Wei reached out and touched his brother's form; this time, his hand met resistance, like a magnetic push, but he could not grasp him.
"Brother, wake up!" he cried, shaking the insubstantial shoulder. Zhou Yun did not stir.
Elder Lin examined the nearest lantern. "This is a binding formation… beautifully crafted from our own memories and qi. The Patriarch—" she corrected herself, voice taut, "—or rather Clarity, must have drawn them here, holding their spirits in stasis."
Gan moved to the edge of the dais and snapped his fingers in front of a comatose fellow disciple's face. No reaction. "It's like they're in their own world."
Long walked around, noting that none of the sleepers reacted to their presence. They were alive—he could faintly see each one's chest rise and fall in slow breaths—but completely ensnared in sleep.
At the center of the triangle formed by the lanterns, there was a small pedestal that bore an open lotus flower carved from crystal. Within that crystal lotus swirled a mist of many colors. Long felt a strong energy emanating from it, pulsing in time with the gong of the resonance bell. Perhaps that was the focal point of this dream formation, or a representation of the sect's collective consciousness itself.
Elder Lin noticed his gaze. "That looks like the heart of it. If we disturb that..."
Before she could finish, the barrier of flame she had set sputtered out with a crackle. The phantom figures had gathered and, combined, snuffed it. A wave of their dark forms flooded into the courtyard, surrounding the dome of light. Yet they did not immediately attack, held at bay by the dome's glow, prowling like wolves outside a campfire.
One phantom stepped forward, more solid than the rest, forming into a tall silhouette. As it came into the light, it sculpted itself into a human shape—a man with regal features and long flowing hair and beard. He wore robes that seemed to billow like ink in water. His eyes were pits of night. Despite that, Long and the others recognized him at once: Patriarch Suli, the Dream Patriarch of Serene Dream Temple.
Zhou Wei inhaled sharply. "Patriarch..." he whispered, eyes wide. Gan set his jaw, anger and fear in equal measure flashing in his eyes.
The figure's face smiled kindly, the expression of the beloved teacher many of them knew, but warped by the emptiness in those eyes. "My children," spoke the Patriarch's voice, layered with that same multi-voice undertone. "Why do you trouble yourselves? All is well. Our kin are in bliss." He gestured to the sleeping disciples on the dais.
Elder Lin stepped forward between the apparition and her students. Her tone was respectful yet firm. "Patriarch, if you can hear me within... we will not accept this 'bliss' at the cost of our minds. This is not enlightenment—it's annihilation. Please, release them and yourself before it's too late."
The Dream Patriarch's form regarded her with an unreadable expression. "Too late? There is no 'too late' in eternity. Do you not see? Here we transcend suffering. We are joined in perfect clarity. No fear, no pain. Only understanding." His voice remained gentle, persuasive, but behind it lurked that eerie echo. "Lin, you have been my faithful voice. Don't let fear cloud you now. Join me in clarity and you will know peace."
Elder Lin's face was pained, hearing the Patriarch speak to her so. "You taught me to hold onto my sense of self, to light my own mind's candle in darkness. I cannot snuff it out now. And I will not let you snuff out these young ones' light either." Her resolve was unshaken.
Long felt a swell of respect for Elder Lin's fortitude. He tightened his grip on his sword. He realized now they had reached the heart of the matter far quicker than expected. The missing spirits were here, and so was the entity they had to face—manifesting as the patriarch, either controlling him or entwined with him.
Patriarch's apparition frowned, disappointment radiating. "Stubborn. As always." His dark eyes flicked towards Long. "And you... outsider. You tread realms not meant for you. Why interfere? This does not concern you."
Long met the gaze calmly. "I cannot stand by while innocents are trapped in nightmares. I seek only to free them."
The patriarch figure tilted his head. "Nightmares? Is that what you think this is?" He extended a hand, and suddenly the dream disciples around them all sighed in unison, expressions blissful. "They are with loved ones, reliving cherished memories, or wandering paradises beyond your imagining. They are content. It is only you meddlers, afraid of true clarity, who feel fear."
Long felt a flicker of doubt. Could it be true? The disciples did look peaceful... But then he recalled the anguish on Jianyu's face earlier, the terror of drowning. "If it were so benign, they would wake of their own will. Instead, they scream and nearly die in their sleep. One of them nearly drowned in a nightmare of your making."
The patriarch's kind face sharpened with annoyance. "There are always shadows to confront before acceptance. Fear to purge. But once purged, only serenity remains. She was not ready; we had to let her go." He made a dismissive motion, and Long understood: Jianyu woke because she fought too hard and Clarity released her to avoid losing energy. Like spitting out a too-tough morsel.
Elder Lin shook her head, anguish in her voice. "This is wrong. Balance, not emptiness, was our goal. You have twisted it."
The apparition's edges flared with dark mist. "No. I have surpassed it. I have become Clarity. I have seen the end of the long path—we become one, and in oneness find eternity." Now the voice sounded less like the Patriarch alone and more like the layered entity. "Enough. If you will not join willingly, you will be shown the way by force."
The shadows beyond the dome quivered and surged. Several phantoms darted in, penetrating the light barrier slightly and forcing the intruders back toward the center with the sleeping disciples. The blue lantern light sputtered as Clarity's dark influence pressed in.
Elder Lin quickly took a stance, summoning ethereal ribbons of light from her palms, ready to defend. Zhou Wei placed himself in front of his brother's prone form, determination etched on his face, sword at the ready. Gan cracked his knuckles, muttering, "I always knew the Patriarch would work us to death one day."
Long fixed his gaze on the Patriarch's apparition. If the entity was indeed controlling him or was him, it needed to be confronted directly. He raised his sword. "Patriarch Suli, or Clarity, or whatever you are now—I will not let you have them."
The apparition regarded the four intruders one last time, almost sadly. Then it began to change. The patriarch's pleasant features melted away, replaced by a visage gaunt and hollow-eyed. The robes darkened to midnight black, and antlers of twisted ebony sprouted from his temples—perhaps reflecting some nightmare form from a disciple's mind. When he spoke next, the voice was a distorted rasp, devoid of warmth. "Then you will be consumed first."
With a screeching howl, the possessed Patriarch lunged. The phantoms all around poured inward, and the battle for the dream began in earnest.