Asteria's [Static Echo] was still screaming in her skull, eyes glued to the shape shifting bell, until...
Asteria felt a sudden, sickening lurch in her gut, like the floor had been pulled out from under her, and then – total darkness.
It wasn't the cold, empty darkness of the library. It felt heavy, like a thick velvet cloth had been draped over her eyes, muffling her senses and silencing the roar of the collapsing palace.
When the weight finally lifted, the air was gone.
Asteria gasped, but her lungs didn't burn. She was floating in a vast, shimmering expanse that felt higher than the clouds and deeper than the sea. Above and below were nothing but stars that pulsed with a slow, rhythmic heartbeat.
She turned, her heart hammering against her ribs, and froze.
Two figures stood – or rather, existed – in the void before her.
The first was a kaleidoscope of a person. Every time Asteria blinked, their face shifted. One moment it was the kind librarian, the next it was her mother, then a stranger she'd passed on the street years ago. Yet, despite the shifting, they felt heartbreakingly familiar. Just looking at them felt like a sip of the nectar she'd rejected – sweet, warm, and dangerously comforting.
The second figure was a nightmare of a different caliber. It was a towering silhouette, entirely cloaked in a darkness that seemed to swallow the starlight around it. Eight long, graceful arms emerged from the folds of its robes, and where a head should have been, two massive, curved horns swept toward the heavens. It didn't feel sweet. It felt like she was face to face with a demon.
"Why didn't you stay in this dream?"
The first figure spoke. The voice was a melody, one that made Asteria's knees weak. "You could've been happy, no? Everything you wanted was right there, within reach of your hand."
Asteria spat to the side, her jaw tight. "Happy, my foot! That wasn't a dream! That was insane! Absolutely ludicrous!"
The figure's shifting face settled into a faint, knowing smile. "True. But you could've left this nightmare if you simply resisted the dream's call until it faded. So why didn't you? Why did you reach out and strike the heart of the machine instead?"
Asteria's [Intuition] was no longer just a needle; it was a screaming siren. It knows. It knows about the Spell. It knows its not real.
'What... what are these... things?'
The figure tilted its head, a lock of hair – gold, then black, then silver – falling over its eye. "Of course, I can assume what you're thinking. A nightmare cannot recreate a God. Not like myself, at least. So what do you think the Spell uses when the nightmare involves the divine?"
Asteria felt a chill that had nothing to do with the void. "The real thing... but that's impossible. You're hardly-"
"A God?" The figure laughed, a sound like wind chimes. "Hmm... you may be correct in that. In some aspects, at least. We are but echoes of echoes now."
The figure turned, eyes wandering over the crumbling remains of Aethelgard far below them. The city was a speck of dust being swallowed by a shadow.
The second figure finally moved. Its eight arms shifted in a complex, ritualistic pattern, and when it spoke, the sound was a harrowing cacophony of a thousand whispers layered into one.
"It seems my spell has made a choice," the cloaked entity rumbled. The air itself seemed to vibrate with its displeasure – or was it amusement? "And this nightmare will close. I do hope you will admire the effort that was put into it, Aspirant. It is rare for a soul to appreciate the craftsmanship of their own destruction."
'What in the Spell's name is going on?' Asteria thought, her mind reeling.
"But you are an interesting one, I'll admit," the first figure said, stepping closer until the scent of jasmine and ozone filled Asteria's senses. "For both of us. A dreamer who loves to dream... and an echo who wants to be heard."
The void around them began to fracture. Great cracks of white light tore through the starlight.
[You have been deemed worthy by multiple -unknown-]
[You have been blessed by -unknown- and -unknown-]
[The gods and daemons are dead, yet they answered your call.]
[Blessed of the -unknown-, receive your boons!]
The first figure reached out a shifting hand, touching Asteria's forehead. At the same time, one of the eight-armed figure's hands brushed her heart.
The world didn't just go dark; it vanished.
[Wake up, Asteria! Your nightmare is over.]
[Prepare for appraisal.]