The castle of Dream rose from the centre of the realm like a monument built from the bones of creation. Its towers glimmered with drifting starlight, and its vast halls shimmered with drifting particles of slumber. Before its gates, two thousand dream-born assembled, armoured in illusions, bearing weapons forged from thought and emotion.
Their armour glowed softly under the silver sky. They stood silent, disciplined, ready.
Seros stepped forward, her robe trailing like starlight over water. She lifted a hand, and the legion bowed in unison.
"Dream commands us," she said, voice echoing across the courtyard. "We march against the traitor. We march to defend the realm."
The dream-born thundered their spears against the ground.
But before Seros could give the final order
A shadow coiled from the far side of the courtyard.
Black mist rolled in a spiral.
A figure rose from the fog.
Tall.
Armoured in nightmare-iron.
Eyes burning like twin voids.
A general of the Nightmares.
One of Dream's ancient hunters.
He laughed softly as he approached.
"So," he said, voice like a blade scraping stone, "Seros wishes to lead two thousand dream-born into a war crafted for nightmares."
His teeth glinted in the dim light.
"This should be amusing."
The dream-born straightened, some in fear, others in recognition.
Seros bowed slightly."General. You are a hunter of terrors. But this is Dream's will."
The Nightmare's grin widened.
"Oh, I know it is. Yet it fascinates me. Dream's assistant thinks of leading a strike force. Against an army of Fallen."
Seros met his eyes. "Dream trusts me."
The Nightmare tilted his head."And what of your skill?"
He lifted a shadow-blade.
"Test it."
Seros extended her hand. A staff of pure light formed in her grip.
The two faced each other in a circle of starlight.
The general smirked.
"Come, then."
Seros lunged first, swift and precise, her strike shimmering through the air. The Nightmare blocked it with casual ease. Her second strike swept low; he stepped aside, amused.
"Too high," he murmured.
Her third jab went for his core. He parried and tapped her shoulder with the flat of his blade.
"Too slow."
Seros's eyes sharpened.
She struck again and again faster each time. The Nightmare moved like a storm of smoke and shadow, blocking everything but giving advice as he fought.
"Lower your stance."
"Don't telegraph your turns."
"Dream gave you potential, not mastery."
Seros gritted her teeth and adjusted, weaving her stance lower, her body more fluid. Her momentum sharpened. She struck with purpose, not anger.
At last, she sent a burst of concentrated dream-energy through her staff.
The Nightmare dodged but barely.
The impact cracked the stone beneath them.
He stilled.
For the first time, his grin softened.
"Well," he said, lowering his blade, "you are not merely Dream's assistant after all."
Seros straightened, chest rising with controlled breath.
"I will need your help."
The Nightmare blinked in surprise.
"You want me to join you?"
"Yes," Seros said simply. "I cannot lead this alone. And Dream's realm is threatened."
The Nightmare looked at the shimmering army behind her, then back to her.
Slowly, he extended his hand.
"Very well. I will fight beside you."
Seros grasped his hand.
A pulse of light exploded between them.
At that exact moment…
The sky tore open.
A wound ripped through the dream realm, stretching across the horizon jagged, vast, crackling with violent energy. The wind howled. Light bent sideways. The dream-born staggered as the rift widened.
Below the castle, the seam between realms ruptured
and five hundred corrupted dream-born plunged through the tear into Vvralis.
Seros's eyes widened. The Nightmare snarled.
The armies roared.
Far, far below them…
in the mortal world…
The consequences exploded.
The High Priest stood beneath a colossal statue of Torvas, its flaming scales casting a dim glow across the marble floor.
He regarded Dream and Erias carefully.
"Welcome," he said. "You step into a sacred hall that predates most mortal kingdoms."
Erias bowed awkwardly.
Dream did not.
The High Priest's eyes studied them deeply.
"When you entered Aramoor, the sacred fire surged. Torvas has not reacted with such violence in centuries."
He moved closer, lowering his voice.
"I have seen too many signs of something rising in our world."
Erias swallowed nervously.
"What kind of… signs?" he asked.
The High Priest's gaze sharpened.
"Evil," he said."Not only in distant lands… but here. In our own court. In our temples. Darkness in the hearts of men and priests alike."
He turned suddenly, pacing.
"Dreams have become twisted. Visions corrupted. Even the divine flames flicker with unease."
He paused, breath trembling.
"And I fear something approaches. Something vast."
Dream exhaled softly. He felt it.
A tremor in the fabric of the dream realm.A tear.A scream of corrupted essence.
The High Priest continued:
"There is a presence in this city a presence not of gods, nor mortals, nor demons I have known. It"
A scream split the air.
High-pitched.
Terrified.
From the streets outside.
The High Priest snapped around.
"What?"
More screams followed dozens, then hundreds.
Dream strode to the temple balcony. Erias ran at his heels. The High Priest followed, robes billowing as he pushed open the balcony doors.
Below them
Chaos.
People running. Shadows are moving unnaturally. Windows shattering. Torches gutting out. A darkness spreading from beneath the streets.
The High Priest staggered.
"By Torvas what is happening!?"
Dream's eyes narrowed.
He felt it fully now.
The tear in the dream realm.The fall of five hundred corrupted dream-born into Vvralis.The start of a war is long delayed.
"This," Dream whispered, "is the traitor's next step."
The city screamed again.
And the war between dream and mortal began.