My back was pressed against a hard floor. Cold seeped through the flimsy material of my gown and I shivered, pushing myself upright.

Stretched out before me was an endless expanse of white. My heart hammered in my chest. I looked up and shielded my eyes from the bright light.

"Hey, Dreamer?" I called out, my echo was the only sound I could hear. "Is this your doing?"

Nothing.

I stepped forward. A chill shot down my spine and I shivered, wishing I had brought some sort of shawl with me.

A hand clamped down on my arm.

Blind panic seized me. I whirled around and delivered a punch. My fist made contact and cartilage gave way to a hot, bloody mess.

"Ow!" Roman doubled over, clutching his face. Rivulets of red streamed through his fingers and splattered on his crisp, white shirt.

I didn't relax, my feet slid into a defence position and I prepared myself to shift if needed. "Why did you sneak up on me?"

He took a breath through his mouth and glared at me. "I was trying to catch your attention."

Rowan straightened and squeezed his eyes shut, face pinched into tight concentration. Cupping his hands over his nose, he grunted and mumbled something under his breath. When he pulled away, his face was completely cleaned of blood— not even his nose was bent out of shape. In fact, if it wasn't for the splatters of blood on his collar, I would have wondered if it had been broken at all.

"How did you do that?" I demanded, trying to hide my rising curiosity.

Rowan wriggled his fingers with a smug grin. "Perks of being a Dreamer. Now, Miss Mango, shall we?"

I arched a brow and crossed my arms, apprehension swirled in the pit of my stomach; I couldn't shake the pinpricks of unease or my instincts screaming at me to run away. "Miss Mango?"

"Ah." His brows furrowed as he tilted his head. "You still like mangoes, don't you?"

I stepped back, suddenly realising that I was very much alone with this man. "Who are you?" My gaze flicked over every inch of the space, but I couldn't find a single object to defend myself with.

"I told you already," he said in exasperation. "My name is Rowan, and I am a Dreamer. Or are you, perhaps, suffering from amnesia?"

I swallowed back the flames threatening to climb up my throat. "What even is a Dreamer, exactly?"

His jaw dropped. "You don't— you don't know what a Dreamer is? Has your system told you nothing?"

"Well, I know that you guys can see through the Cloak of Secrets." I crossed my arms, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity while being gawked at like I was a fish out of water. "As demonstrated when you so rudely kidnapped me earlier."

Rowan let out a sharp breath, his shoulders dropped and a disbelieving chuckled pushed past his lips. "Right, well, that actually throws a lot of my plans out of the window. Alright, here's a crash course."

He waved his right hand as if he was shooing away a fly; a plush, red armchair appeared behind me, and I was pushed back into it by an invisible force. I gasped, sinking so deep into the cushions that I was half-worried I would be swallowed up by the velvet.

"Right." Rowan pushed up a pair of silver glasses— where did he get those from?— up the bridge of his nose. "There are two types of non-characters within any story: the Story Traveller, and the Dreamer.

"I'm sure you're aware of what a Traveller does— goes from story to story, ensuring the correct happy ending is met, blah, blah, blah. You get my drift. But Dreamers are completely different."

Rowan pressed a hand to his chest and peered at me from over the frames. "Dreamers can, as the name suggests, infiltrate and influence people's dreams. I can gift people the sweetest and most wonderful dream they will ever have the pleasure of having, or I can curse them with nightmares that would leave them shaking for weeks. I can create a dream so vivid that people will never want to go back to reality and drive themselves mad until they eventually succumb to an everlasting sleep."

A slow smirk spread across his face like an infection and his eyes glinted with untold horrors. It was as if he was daring me to ask about his victims— or, rather, daring me to ask if I was next.

I stilled. My sweaty palms curled over the armrests. Goosebumps spread across my arms as the sensation of being doused in icy water swept over me. This man is dangerous, was the only thought that slammed around in my skull, coupled with ringing alarm bells.

"Of course." He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, every trace of malice vanished as if it had never been there from the start. "There are some rules. I have to have some form of contact with the person first, and..." he hesitated, avoiding my gaze as his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Anyone I meet, who isn't a Traveller or a Dreamer, will never remember me once the conversation is over."

The tension in the heavy silence that followed was almost palpable. Rowan rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, staring at the ground with furrowed brows.

I fidgeted in my seat. "Oh."

"Yeah. Oh." He cleared his throat and shrugged, lips curved up in a smile. "But it works quite well for my more... shall we say, lucrative businesses."

"So you are a thief?"

"If that's what you want to call it, then sure. Anyways, where was I? Ah, yes, Story Travellers and Dreamers. Now, your situation is a bit unique. Somehow, the plot is going off-track due to your actions, and the system is trying to remove you from the story. Wait, are you aware of what a car is?"

I tilted my head and cast my mind back. I nodded slowly. "Yes. Two stories ago, I played the younger sister of the female lead in a cheesy romcom from the twentieth century." I did not think it was worth mentioning that my original world was in the twenty-first century. No need to give this strange man any more information.

"Okay, good. Think of the plot as the engine of a car— it's the driving force of the entire operation. The system is the road, which is the route to the happy ending. Your job as a Traveller is to be the steering wheel, guiding this story-car to the end."

"I see," I said in a slow and careful manner. "But how does this help me to leave the story, as you'd mentioned earlier?"

"I'm getting to that, be patient!" Rowan exclaimed, running a hand through his hair. "What will happen if you encountered a blockade or broken section of the road?"

"I'd turn around and find another route."

"But what if all the roads were broken? What would you do then?"

"I'd have to get out and walk."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me in triumph. "Bingo! We need to break the plot in such a way that there is no alternative route. However— and this is very important— it needs to be done so you are the only way it can be fixed again, and I will help you do so."

"Why are you helping me?" I asked, digging my fingers into the seat. "How does this deal benefit you in any way?"

Rowan clicked his tongue against his teeth and gestured to the empty space. "I spoke to a witch in my past story. It doesn't really matter anyways– will you accept my deal? Or are you really willing to leave your fate in the hands of a fate that has screwed you over so much?"

My jaw dropped. "You spoke to a what now?"

He stared at me in disbelief. "You're a dragon-shifter with the ability to go through different stories, but you're shocked that I spoke to a witch?"

"Fair point." A dull ache emerged from the centre of my forehead and I pressed the area, trying to organise my scrambled thoughts.

On the one hand, this was a risky deal for me. I didn't know Rowan or what his true intentions were for helping. His powers were also terrifying, and I couldn't fully trust that he wouldn't use them on me.

But...

The alternative would be far worse.

I cleared my throat and tugged on the edge of my gown, twisting the frayed threads between my fingers. "I accept your offer, Rowan."

The corners of his eyes crinkled as a soft and deceptive smile lit up his face. "I knew you would. Now, it's time for you to get some rest."

"W–what?" I mumbled as my eyelids dropped down as if weights had been attached to their ends. I struggled against the wave of sleep that threatened to engulf me. "We need– we need to talk first."

His deep chuckle reverberated in the room. "Sweet dreams, Mango. I'll see you in the morning." 

***************************** 

Total word count: 10 032

I hope you guys liked it! 

Stay safe and thanks for reading :)