The night was one of those that seemed to conspire with criminals - thick, dense, dark, without moon or stars, with fog that curled close to the ground, creeping along the pavement. The city was asleep, only rare streetlights barely made their way through the humid air, creating islands of dim light in the bottomless blackness.

Team "Meme" moved silently, almost dissolving in the shadows. Nightmare walked ahead, his silhouette, seemed higher than he actually was, due to the way the darkness wrapped around his figure. Cross was behind him, Error was a little behind and to the left, and you, bringing up the rear, trying to repeat their pace step by step.

Today's goal was simple according to Nightmare, but you already knew: when he says "simple", everything will be different. It was necessary to penetrate the central archive of the Order of Light, an organization that kept magical artifacts, and steal one of them: the Blade of the Morning Dawn. An ancient weapon, forged in the era before the beginning of time, capable of breaking through even the most steadfast barriers of magic.

“The main thing is to do it quickly,” — Cross said over his shoulder, but there was something like anticipation in his voice. “Before the guards raise the alarm.”

You nodded silently, your fingers gripping the handle of the weapon - even though you were new, you had no right to make a mistake.

"By my mark," — said Nightmare, and the shadow of his cloak slid along the parapet like pouring night.

You entered the Archive from above. The roof opened under Error's paws - he "picked out" a block of reality, as if he had torn a single stitch from the fabric of the world. The silence was absolute: only the low hum of the security structures, like the thoughtful singing of a giant beehive. The archive looked impressive even at night: a high stone façade, columns, arched windows through which soft golden lamplight seeped. Guards in white cloaks walked along the perimeter, their armor jingling softly in the silence.

Error gestured to the side door leading to the service wing. You saw how his threads, almost invisible, slid into the keyhole - a quiet metallic click, and the door gave in.

Nightmare moved confidently, as if he sensed exactly where the target was. You tried to keep up, listening to every sound. But everything was too quiet. Too calm.

"Faster," Nightmare said almost silently, quickening his pace. "He's here."

You didn't have time to ask "who" — He appeared at the far end of the corridor. Tall, in shining armor, with a golden cloak that stretched along the floor, reflecting the light of the artifact lamps. In his hands he held a sword - a blade of pure light, burning so brightly that its radiance hurt the eyes.

Dream.

You knew him only from the stories of the team - a light protector, Nightmare's eternal enemy. But now he stood here, blocking the way, and his gaze immediately fell on you.

"I knew you would come," his voice was firm, and he took a step forward. "But I didn't expect that you would bring with you... new faces."

You felt Nightmare move slightly to the side, allowing the others to line up in a semicircle.

Everything happened too fast. Dream rushed forward with such speed that his cloak became a golden stripe in the air. Cross met the blow, the blades met with a blinding flash. Error threw black threads at him, but Dream deftly dodged to the side, parrying the blows and simultaneously moving towards the artifact.

And he noticed you.

His movements slowed for a moment as he glanced at you. The fourth participant. Unknown. The mask hid your face, but it was enough for him to memorize your movements, your mannerisms.

"And who are you?"

He lunged forward, the sword strike aimed straight at you. You managed to block it, but the force of the blow threw you against the wall. The mask slipped off your face and fell to the floor.

You looked up, expecting him to finish you off. But he didn't. Dream froze, his sword stopped a few centimeters from your shoulder, eyes widened.

"Annie?.."