Chapter 11: Opening Scene

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There are moves being made against them, but Dream finally catches onto a very important detail.

A/N: The new update schedule is every Saturday, latest 9 PM GMT +8.
hello, readers!! i missed you so much! here's act 2, as promised<3 I hope it satisfies!! as always, kudos are appreciated, comments are beloved:)

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Start of Act 2: "life is a long lesson in humility"

There comes a point in everyone's life where opinion clashes against necessity. It was at this point that Dream was searching through the Empire with gritted teeth. Yes, still allies, so yes, he was begrudgingly worried for the missing Protector. He was probably overreacting. Ink never stayed long there anyway.

He hadn't seen Ink for a few weeks.

Ink was stubborn, but he wasn't irresponsible.

It wouldn't hurt. He let out a breath and continued on his search.

- - - - -

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He was probably fine. Dream paced. As much as he didn't want to admit it he was worried about Ink. No, he wasn't worried, he just wanted to talk to Ink about Nightmare. Nothing more, nothing less.

Dream stopped. He'd been walking all this time, and it seems he'd walked in a giant circle and was back where he started (like his train of thought?). Now he was back at...ah.

He was turning back. Not today.

He did turn his back, but he remained there, still.

A long sigh left him.

He'd ended right back at the Royal Gardens.

He just knew something was off about them, that his increasing worries were all linked to this place (to him) but... but...

But nothing. He'd already failed, even from what little he knew.

Face it head on.

(I hope I won't regret this.)

He took a deep breath, then turned and set his gaze on the flora and fauna.

...Oh. His expression remained fixed and stony. He stayed rooted to the ground.

He still remembered the delightful clusters of simple green, weaving through the beautiful flora (hues of red, blue, purple, pink, and white) blooming vividly across the entire space.

The beautiful flora. The once-beautiful flora.

But Dream found himself striding through a withered garden. All around him, rotting and dying flowers. Yellowed. Faded.

What?

He turned the corner.

Ah.

Of course.

Not all the blossoms, it seemed, were wilting.

The black roses were doing just fine. Maybe a little more alluring than before. Despite the beginning thuds of a headache Dream stepped closer.

The black roses. So, so beautiful. Dream felt himself smile, and was a little scared about that. The black roses that Dream had named, all those years ago. He was still very young then, not long after his brother's death. He was still smiling. Tahitian Pearl Roses, or Tahitian Roses. Just— just a pretty name. A nice name. A pretty name, for a pretty grave.

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