Poplar St. (OFFICIAL WATTPAD UPLOAD)

Catalyst

"I'm ready."

Techno bites his lip as the wall of lava seals behind him. He had a feeling Dream would be saying this soon.

The guy doesn't look good, but that's to be expected. He's visibly thinner and paler, even in the orange glow of the lava, and his mask is streaked with dried blood and filth. Even though it's broken, it doesn't reveal much, Techno muses silently. Just the upper right quarter of Dream's face and a single bloodshot, sunken green eye that's practically glowing with hatred and rage. His pale gold hair has gotten long and hopelessly tangled, almost brushing his shoulders and greasy and matted with filth and blood, and he's visibly exhausted.

And that's just Dream's face.

The kid is battered, his orange prison jumpsuit covered in huge, long-dried bloodstains. It's shredded in places, revealing half-healed wounds and more bruises than Techno can count. From the awkward way Dream's standing, he's probably sprained his ankle, and his hands are filthy with more dried, crusted blood under his greasy, broken nails. His breath is raspy, and Dream pauses and lifts his mask slightly to cover his mouth while he coughs, his single visible eye screwing shut with pain.

Blood flecks his lips and his palm when he lowers his hand.

Techno clenches his teeth.

"When?" He asks, and even though he can't see it, he can sense Dream's cold, unsettling smile.

"Now," he replies, "take care of Sam and let me out of this creeper hole. And let's just say I have the means to make it worth your time, the favor owed aside. Quackity, oh, he wants it, but he's sure as hell not gonna get it."

He turns and pulls a book out of his small chest of belongings.

Techno freezes.

It's a thick volume bound in dark leather. Strange runes are inscribed on the front in glowing magenta, and the book seems to hum and the air temperature rises when Dream opens it. The tome is clearly ancient, and for some reason it feels wrong.

Techno can't describe it. Just looking at the book raises the hair on his neck. That book, wherever it came from, isn't supposed to be in mortal hands.

For one of the few times in his life, Techno's instinct isn't to fight, but to flee.

He hastily stifles his sudden fear, and instead draws himself up to his full height and demands, "'The hell did you get that from?"

"Schlatt gave it to me," Dream says vaguely. "He said he found it in the Nether. In a temple in a soul-sand valley. It was locked inside, and the inscriptions on it said to never open it under any circumstances, so naturally he went in. And he found this. That old drunkard was a fool, really, giving this up for my allegiance. The knowledge... there's so much I've been using, more than enough to get control back and kill anybody who dares try and stop me once I fully translate it. Luckily you're on my side, Blood God."

Techno hesitates, but he's not sure why.

"R—right," he blurts, hoping Dream didn't notice him slip for a moment. "What is that thing, exactly? And how long have you had it?"

"According to the temple, this book has had quite a few names across time and space," Dream says, running his fingers reverently over the cover. "Book of Sins. The Darkhold. Tome of the Deep. Scroll of Erebus. I've just been calling this nifty little collection of dark magic the Revive Book. And I've been using it since shortly after your execution, Techno."

Techno scowls.

"Why haven't you broken out of here yourself, then?" He asks. "If that book or whatever is that powerful—"