The sun rose in Elm Street, but it felt wrong.

The light had a faint gray tint, as if reality itself was losing color. Birds didn't sing. Wind didn't blow. The town was holding its breath.

Alex noticed first—he hadn't blinked once since waking.

"Do you feel it?" he asked Riley.

She nodded slowly. "The veil is thinning."

It started small: a child in the park chasing an invisible balloon that turned into a screaming face. A barista in town pouring blood instead of coffee. Marcus watching his own reflection wave at him when he didn't move.

Dream was merging with day.

Tina's coach vanished mid-practice, leaving behind a whistle and an echo. Leah's houseplants whispered warnings. Riley saw words carved into the sky: HE RISES IN SHADOW.

They gathered in the library again.

Alex laid out the plan: "We can't stop it from bleeding through. But we can sever its link."

"How?" Leah asked.

"We find the last two anchors. Destroy them before the convergence."

Mrs. Willow summoned the group to her home—her books finally revealed the truth:

"Three souls. One shall fall, one shall betray, and one shall become the gate."

"We saved Marcus," Alex said. "He was the one who fell."

"Then the traitor is among us," Riley said.

A silence fell.

Eyes shifted.

"Not me," Tina said.

"Nor me," Leah added.

Riley looked to Alex. "We have to watch each other. Deadlight manipulates. Twists fears."

But something in Leah's expression faltered—like a crack spreading across her face.

That night, they entered the shared dream again. It came naturally now. Too easily.

They stood in a dreamscape version of Elm Street, but all buildings were hollow and burning. The sky spun. Static filled the air.

Marcus pointed to the town hall. "That's the gate."

Inside, they found Leah's paintings alive—each moving, writhing, whispering. They formed a spiral leading downward.

At the center: a throne made of nightmares.

On it sat Leah.

Not the Leah they knew.

Her eyes bled black.

"I didn't want to betray you," she said. "But he showed me what's coming. This world doesn't deserve to survive."

"It's not his call!" Alex shouted.

"No," she said softly. "It's mine."

She raised her hand. The throne pulsed.

Deadlight rose through the floor.

Alex charged, wielding the Dream Sigil like a blade. Riley conjured light from her core memories: her father's laugh, her mother's song. Tina became a storm of fire and speed.

Leah screamed, summoning nightmare beasts from her canvas: eyeless wolves, mirror-faced giants, and screaming skies.

Deadlight watched. Learning. Growing.

It began to fracture the dream.

"You can't kill an idea!" it shrieked. "I am the fear of what you can't control!"

Alex stabbed the Sigil through one of the beasts, then turned to Leah.

"You're better than this. Fight it!"

She hesitated. Just long enough.

Riley thrust a light-shard through the throne.

It shattered.

Leah collapsed.

The dream began to quake.

They woke in agony.

Leah screamed and thrashed. Then went limp.

"She's still alive," Mrs. Willow said. "But Deadlight will find a new vessel. It's not over."

Alex paced. "Then what's next?"

Mrs. Willow's voice broke. "Tomorrow. At dusk. It crosses over."

"And the third anchor?" Tina asked.

Mrs. Willow looked at Alex.

"It's you."