From the ether, I felt Dream's realm ripple like disturbed water, soft colours bending, drifting lights flickering, illusions quivering under pressure they were never meant to bear. Dream had built this place for peace, for rest, for fragile minds to find clarity. But tonight the air tasted sharp with fear.
The gods were gathered in a great circle of drifting starlight. This was Dream's council: dozens of deities from a hundred worlds storm gods flickering with lightning, river gods shimmering with fluid grace, suns and moons shaped into divine form. At the centre hovered Dream, their shape soft and fluid, a figure made of mist and light.
The council rose at once. Weapons of storm, stone, flame, and starlight materialised as dozens of gods prepared to strike. Destruction-and-Creation flickered between fire and blossom. Death hovered behind her seat, silent, watching.
Destiny clutched their swirling threads, whispering, "A terrible future stands behind that gate."
Dream darted closer to the boundary, hands trembling. "Do not raise weapons. Please. Not yet."
But the trembling edge of the realm splintered further.
A crack of shadowfire spread across the sky.
The gate opened.
And the Fallen stood at its threshold.
Scourge stepped through the crack first his wings torn and jagged, his body marked with glowing crimson fissures, shadowfire coiling at his feet. Behind him walked Ellas, mortal lungs wheezing, but hatred burning so fiercely in his chest it warped the air around him.
The gods recoiled.
One sky deity snarled, "You dare show your face here, Fallen?"
Another hissed, "Beware he has killed gods before."
Scourge laughed softly, a cruel, mocking sound that rippled across the entire dream realm.
"Oh, how delightful," he said, stretching his wings, "the mighty pantheons quake at the sight of a single shadow."
Ellas leaned against the gateframe, breath ragged. "They trembled before four gods died. No surprise they tremble still."
The gods bristled.
Stormlight cracked across the sky. The rivers roared. Stone gods hammered their fists. Sun gods flared.
Dream flew quickly between the two sides, voice trembling.
"Please no fighting. Not here. Not in this realm."
Scourge tilted his head, amused. "Your dream realm is fragile, little weaver. If war is struck here, this place will shatter."
"And that is why I ask," Dream said, voice breaking, "please… do not force war upon us."
Scourge glanced at the assembled gods hundreds of divine eyes locked on him with hatred and fear. Then he looked at Dream.
"Very well," he said. "Invite me in."
The gods erupted in panic.
"Dream, no!" "Don't allow him inside!" "He will poison this realm!" "We must attack now!"
Dream raised both hands sharply.
"QUIET."
Silence fell.
Dream turned to Scourge, their eyes shimmering with dread.
"I invite you into my realm," Dream said. "Only to prevent war. Only for counsel."
Scourge bowed mockingly. "How gracious."
Ellas stepped forward, but nearly collapsed. Scourge caught his arm.
"Let him in as well," Scourge whispered. "He will not survive long at your side if we leave him outside."
The gods protested again, but Dream would not bend.
"Enter," Dream said softly.
Scourge stepped into the realm. The dreamfloor cracked beneath his feet, trying and failing to support the weight of a fallen angel. Ellas followed, breaths rasping, mortal heart pounding with barely contained hatred.
Dream gestured to the vast starlit table.
"Sit," they whispered.
Scourge strode to the nearest seat. He did not lounge or relax. He sat with cold, predatory stillness like a blade laid upon the table.
Ellas sat beside him, clutching the table for support.
Dream hovered opposite them.
The gods remained standing, weapons out, glaring.
Destiny stepped forward. "Why are you here?"
A fire deity snarled, "What do you want, Fallen?"
A stone god slammed a fist into the table. "Speak before we tear your shadow apart!"
Dream winced. "Please let him answer."
All attention turned to Scourge.
He leaned forward slightly, crimson cracks glowing across his skin.
"What do I want?" Scourge murmured.
"Power?" "A war?" "To kill more gods?"
The gods shouted their accusations.
Scourge only smiled.
"I want...."
But he did not finish.
Because suddenly
A roar of silver thunder tore open the dream realm's sky.
Light exploded across the ceiling like a waterfall of stars.
ANGELS descended.
Hundreds then thousands blazing with silver fire, armour shimmering with Elder's mark. Their wings spread across the entire horizon, filling Dream's realm with purifying radiance.
Their general landed with a spear of pure law, pointing it directly at Scourge's heart.
His voice rang like a blade drawn across stone:
"Dream. We have come to purge the Fallen from this realm."
Dream gasped, rushing forward.
"No! Not here, this realm cannot survive a war!"
But the angels closed in.
The gods lifted their weapons.
Ellas stood, breathing fury.
And Scourge… simply smiled.
"Ah," he whispered, spreading his wings," now the pantheons finally arrive."
The air shattered with tension.
A war waited in every breath.
And Dream, hovering between angels and Fallen, whispered one last, plea:
"Please… don't let the first war begin here."