The next one he chose was very similar to the first in its power and scale. Once again, it was another murder victim. Kinson watched the scene four times to memorize every detail before even attempting to enter it. This time, though, he was simply a passive observer, without any connection to either party. To test one of his ideas, Kinson found a place nearby the event and hid, waiting until the deathdream dissolved. As before, he wasn't pulled into the soul space.
Before he attempted yet a third dream, Kinson pulled out his phone and typed a text up with his experiences so far. Despite all of his research, he hadn't once come across anyone trying what he did now: intentionally walking in a deathdream. After reading so many reports, he understood the importance of clarity and detail, and his text reflected that.
Kinson took a deep breath, then scheduled the text. He wanted to try something different this time, but there weren't any weaker deathdreams strong enough for him to enter anymore. If he didn't return, he wanted someone to know what happened. After a thought, he also sent a quick text to his mom.
"Hey, just wanted to let you know I love you," he said slowly, typing it out.
He put down his phone and closed his eyes. Before he could find a deathdream, though, his phone shook. It was his mom.
"I love you too! Is everything alright?"
He hesitated, but ultimately ignored it and switched the device onto silent mode. After a moment to gather his concentration, he extended his soul and sought out the deathdreams, which floated about in the garden around him.
The deathdream's soul was probably around class 5, which posed a significant threat to Kinson. He battled long and hard, stretched to the point of exhaustion as he resisted the deadly suction of the deathdream. Try as he did, he was unable to remain in the safe zone and was drawn into the deathdream itself. His soul battled for its identity, a fight in which he eventually came off conqueror. Although he could have relied on the memory of the Nightmare, there was always the chance it wouldn't be enough. Besides, relying on his oppressor was too great an irony for Kinson to bear.
Although tattered and worn, Kinson survived the formation of the deathdream and opened his eyes to find himself on a planet he had only seen in pictures and videos. Endless stretches of water extended farther than his eyes could see. The vivid blue seemed painted onto the horizon, each stroke trailing white foam as it dipped above the waves. His heart pounded as much from the open air to the imposing, craggy cliffs he stood on. Kinson backed away from the ledge and turned to see what stood behind him.
He appeared to be at the edge of a thick forest of trees, which rose high above him on the top of stony peaks. Clouds marred the brilliant blue sky, a scene Kinson had only half believed existed. As he swept around to view the breathtaking view, the explosive green of the vegetation and the brilliant light of the sun nearly blinded him, and he staggered back, rubbing his eyes. How could the sun be so bright?
With only those few seconds, Kinson was able to confirm that he was indeed in the homeland of mankind: Terra. Earth, as it used to be known in days that predated space travel, modernly referred to both the planet, and its moon, which was called Luna. Technically, they were independent political states, but time and common culture had joined them together inseparably. Earth composed the two largest population centers and the majority of political influence in the alliance. The main headquarters for every major company and organization was built on earth, as was the military might of different factions.
Kinson marveled at the quality of the air he sucked in with every breath. Unlike Titan's perpetually recycled atmosphere, Earth's was natural, being produced every single day by the organisms that had embellished its surface for millions of years. Although there had been a dark period in the state of the earth's environment soon after mankind began to develop technology, that had long passed. The same innovations that caused those problems brought about solutions, returning the earth's resources to a near paradisiacal state.
After relishing a few sweet breaths of fresh air, Kinson looked around. There weren't any obvious threats or even people who might have been featured in a deathdream. No dark alleys, pirate spaceships, or even an ominous cloud in the sky. He regretted not looking at the tombstone before deathdreaming, as that might have given him some clues. Try as he might, the only sign of civilization was an old, abandoned lighthouse overlooking the cliffs and ocean. That was odd, in and of itself, as he knew from firsthand experience that you couldn't stray too far from the protagonist of a deathdream, or it would rely on the deathdreamer's soul to sustain itself. Something like that would be obvious to him, yet it hadn't occurred yet.
With no better plan, Kinson set out towards the lighthouse, which stood on a rocky knoll just a few hundred feet away. The lighthouse was constructed of grey stone and mortar, although the stone was mostly bleached white, and the mortar was chipped and cracked. The door itself was surprising in that it was still standing. The thick wooden planks had not aged well, and countless knots of rot dotted the surface. An old, rusty padlock secured the handle, but the thick iron chain had mostly corroded away. Looking around, and still finding nothing, Kinson reached forward and casually broke the remnants of the chain, freeing the door. He reached for the handle but grimaced as it came off in his hand. With a shrug, Kinson kicked the door, breaking it from its hinges and sending it crashing into the room behind.
Scattered light filtered past him, piercing the darkness inside. Immediately, the musty smell of rot assaulted his nostrils as a wave of stale air flowed past him, reaching for the sky.
He squinted but failed to make out anything till he stepped inside. The room was extremely small, only a dozen feet wide or so at the widest point. A thin, narrow staircase rose from the opposite side of the room, undoubtedly climbing to the top. The walls were filled with cabinets and even a small bedroom set, complete with a nightstand. Everything was abandoned, and the darkness, moist with sea salt, had not treated the furnishings well. A few of the cupboards hung eschew on rusted hinges.
As Kinson cautiously stepped into the room, the wooden floorboards creaked loudly, muffled only by the gentle give of the weakened wood. He stepped lightly, afraid of breaking through the boards and plunging his leg into the wooden splinters. As he crossed the room, the sounds suddenly changed, and his feet found firm ground beneath them. A glance down showed he stood on a disintegrating rug, its pattern no longer discernable. Suspicious, he reached down and threw it aside, his eyes widening.
The dim sunlight shone on a dull metal sheet, complete with hinges and a handle. A secret door! Kinson exhaled sharply, releasing his pent-up breath. but immediately regretted it as the stench flowed down his throat following an inhale a few seconds later.
With watering eyes, Kinson grabbed the handle and gently tested it. The hinges squealed in protest, but ultimately refused to move. Frowning, he planted his feet and yanked, hard. The door gave bit by bit until he had forced open a crack large enough to squeeze through. He took a deep breath, coughed a bit of the dust back out, then crawled inside. Although the yawning maw of shadows was intimidating, it was nothing compared to the depths of terror the darkness of nightmare inspired.
The vertical passage had gritty rungs on one side, and Kinson grabbed them without hesitation. They were spaced closely together, as though made for someone with short arms and legs. Kinson smiled grimly. Whoever that had been was likely long gone by now.
After descending for almost 20 feet, Kinson's foot touched the bottom. Looking about, he saw a dim light in the darkness and felt out a passage that led to it. He tentatively began to walk forwards, hands on the narrowly spaced walls at either side. The grain of old wood was rough against his hand, so he gingerly pressed his fingers on it, afraid of jagged spots. He felt especially blind that way, but couldn't do anything else. Hopefully, whoever had last used this passage wasn't the type to leave junk all around.
It was only after his face met the first spiderweb did Kinson feel a strong sense of Deja Vu. From that point onward, Kinson walked with one hand on the wall, the other in front of him. Before he had taken a hundred steps, his arm was thickly coated with wispy cobwebs. Still, a small price to pay for sanity.
The light drew near until he could make out a dim, flickering light bulb. It was near prehistoric to the era, something more commonly found in a museum. An LED, if he remembered right. Maybe they really did last forever. Relief filled him as he looked beyond it, and found another, and then another. Old wires connected them, visible on the wooden boards framing the tunnel. As he progressed, the cobwebs began to thin as well, and he noticed a gradual slope downwards. He quickened his pace, and was ecstatic to see another door blocking his way.
He ran forward and clutched the handle, intending to leap through and obtain freedom from the oppressive hallway. As his hand touched the handle, though, he paused. There might be danger here, after all.
Kinson placed his ear against the door. The metal was cold against his skin, but no noise reverberated through. Carefully, he tried the handle and found it unlocked. With a smile, he twisted slowly. It likely hadn't been used in so long that no one thought it necessary to do so.
Although the hinges groaned softly, Kinson heard nothing beyond. He slipped past the door, not bothering to open it fully, and took a look about him. He was in a hallway, although this one seemed to be dated much more recently. Modern light strips lined the polished steel tunnel, the unexpected light making him squint. The floor was even carpeted, and the interior devoid of cobwebs. For some reason, he found that the most comforting part. He closed the door, noticing it fell seamlessly into the wall. A true secret entrance.