From the ether, I felt Dream stretch his realm open for the first time with urgency, not wonder.
Dream's domain shimmered like an infinite drifting cloud of soft light and colour, shifting into landscapes pulled from any mind that touched it. For ages, it had been a sanctuary, a place for visions and rest.
Tonight it pulsed with warning.
Dream hovered in the centre of the realm, their form drifting like smoke shaped into a humanoid silhouette, eyes glowing with deep, star-filled concern.
They whispered a single command:
"Come."
The invitation raced across the universe like a gentle breeze charged with power. And those who felt the disturbance, the same dark pulse that shook every realm when Scourge killed the gods, answered.
Night arrived first.
Her shadows bent around her like a cloak of pure cosmos, her presence cooling Dream's warm skies. Death followed silently, appearing without footsteps, their empty gaze searching for unseen threads. Destiny stepped from a doorway of shimmering paths, robes flickering between futures. Destruction-and-Creation came last, swirling between fire and ash, lightning and growth as their unstable essence crackled.
Then came the gods.
More arrived than Dream had intended storm-gods from distant worlds, earth-gods covered in minerals from their planets, river spirits, cosmic guardians, deities of day and night, wind and tide, fire and frost.
Dream gave each a soft nod as they materialised.
"Welcome," Dream whispered, their voice echoing across the shifting horizon.
Night scanned the assembly, shadows deepening. "This many gods have never gathered."
Destiny murmured, "That alone speaks of danger."
Dream drifted upward, raising a hand.
A great circular table appeared beneath them woven from stardust, moonlight, and visions. It expanded until every being had a seat, whether they were a mountain-sized storm god or a sprite-sized guardian of dew.
Dream settled at the head.
"Sit," they said softly.
The gods obeyed. Night's children took places at her side. Even the eldest gods, born from the oldest stars, fell silent.
Dream looked around the table, their eyes glowing brighter.
"You have all felt it."
A ripple passed through the assembly. Some gods shivered. Some clenched their fists. Some lowered their eyes.
Death spoke first, their voice barely above a whisper. "I felt souls cry before they died. That never happens."
Destiny's hands trembled. "Threads were severed. Entire futures simply… vanished."
Destruction-and-Creation snarled. "Something killed gods. Quickly."
Shock tore through the lesser deities, many of whom had not considered that a god could die.
Night rested her hands on the table, shadows swirling. "My children felt it from across realms. A force that does not belong. A hatred old and sharp, growing like a thorn."
Dream nodded.
"That is why we are here," they said. "To understand what has awakened."
A storm god raised his voice. "Is it a pantheon seeking war?"
"No," Destiny whispered. "No pantheon moves with such secrecy."
A sun goddess frowned. "Is it an ancient creature? Something that predates gods?"
"No creature predating gods still lives," Death said gently.
The hall trembled with confusion.
Dream lifted both hands.
The realm blurred.
A vision appeared in the centre of the table darkness, shifting, breathing. The silhouette of a mortal boy twisted in pain. The shape of an angel falling.The outline of a mortal struck with hatred.
The gods recoiled.
"What is that?" a goddess cried.
"What abomination?" a river god muttered.
Destiny leaned forward, eyes wide. "This is not a creature."
"It is not a god," Death added.
Dream whispered the word like a secret:
"It is evil."
Silence suffocated the room.
Night closed her eyes, her shadows tightening. "We are not dealing with a creature. We are dealing with a principle. A concept given form."
"And it is growing," Dream murmured.
Destruction-and-Creation slammed a fist on the table, cracking the stardust. "Then we fight it!"
Death shook their head. "You cannot kill an idea."
Dream turned toward Night slowly.
"We felt something new… something forming in your presence."
Night stiffened.
"What do you mean?" she asked warily.
Destiny's eyes narrowed. "Something broke away from you."
Night blinked slowly, carefully. "Nothing has left me."
But Destiny rose, stepping closer.
"Look."
The table cracked in the centre.
Darkness seeped through not Night's darkness, not her gentle twilight, not her cosmic velvet. This shadow was raw. Dripping. Sharp. Jagged.
Dream backed away, eyes widening. "No… not here…"
Night gasped as the shadow yanked itself upward violently, painfully, as if ripping free from her very essence.
A hand emerged. Then an arm.Then a torso made of swirling, choking blackness.
Night staggered backwards.
"No," she whispered. "No, this cannot be"
Death stepped beside her protectively.
Destiny's gaze trembled.
Destruction-and-Creation flickered between forms in panic.
The gods rose from their seats, weapons summoning into their hands.
But the being climbed free, collapsing onto the stardust floor panting, laughing, trembling all at once.
It lifted its head.
Its face was shadow twisted into shape, its eyes hollow pits of hunger, its form a living wound in reality.
Night whispered its name before she even understood how she knew it:
"Despair."
The being grinned, teeth like cracks in the void.
"Yes," it hissed, voice dripping poison. "Born of you, Night."
Night stumbled back, horrified. "But I did not create you."
Despair rose slowly, limbs jerking and bending in unnatural movements.
"You did," it crooned. "The moment you feared what the universe might become… the moment you felt dread for the Elder's creation… the moment you sensed the Fallen rising."
It pressed a hand to its chest.
"That fear… that shadow… became me."
Dream gasped. "A god of despair born from Night?"
Despair spread its arms, darkness pouring from its fingers.
"I am no god," it whispered. "I am the first shadow of emotion shaped into flesh. The birth of a concept.The echo of fear.The twin to evil."
The gods stepped back.
Night trembled.
And from Despair's smile, the universe felt the beginning of something it had never known:
A darkness not born from chaos or destruction…
…but from the very hearts of creation itself.