The High Gods of the Dreaming

Azula · December 2015

Thanks to @Tridemon for letting me read this, to the writers who wove this lovely tale, and to @Synkarin and the rest of the gang who made it possible to secure these things!

The dreamscape flickers, an endless grey that stretches to infinity. A flash of light. Whispers edge

around a globe that forms in the grey. Within the globe, colours blur and bleed into each other.

Green. Gold. Blue. Pink. Silhouettes darken around it, dozens of shapes crowding against each other,

murmuring, laughing, hissing.

'Is it recording?' The rustle of the wings of a trill.

'Indeed. Here, we are in the very center of the Dreaming. Records here will last for eternity.' The

clear dulcet ring of a lucidian's voice.

'How deep are we?' asks a rich burgundy pulse of light, the intonation of an Imperial prelate.

'Focus on taking form, my friends. Concentrate,' says a swirling circle of gold, slowly solidifying

into the hazy form of a male trill.

One by one, the shadows take form in the endless grey of the Dreaming. Twelve trill. Five lucidian.

Six merian. Two krokani. A furrikin. Their figures shimmer and twist, trying to hold shapes in the

flows and eddies of the twisting emptiness.

'Impressive,' says the Imperial prelate, holding the form of a shimmering merian. 'What do you call

this place, Aelish?'

'We call it the Heart of Vestera, Prelate Arturius,' says Aelish, the male trill who swirls in gold,

phantom wings flaring behind him. 'Of course, it is not the literal heart of the Vernal Goddess;

rather, the heart of the Dreaming.'

'Emperor Ladantine will be most interested in how much you have accomplished,' says Prelate Arturius.

'I will report that his confidence in this Hallifax venture was well founded. As the leader of the

Circle of the Deep, you should be proud of your dreamweavers, Aelish.'

'Thank you, Prelate Arturius,' says Aelish. 'We are gratified that Emperor Ladantine deigned to

impart the science and art of dreamweaving to us. Of course, we formed the Circle of the Deep to

serve the Empire.'

'But as to why we are here,' says Prelate Arturius. 'Can we observe and record Cosmic Hope from the

Dreaming?'

'We know we can observe the material realm from here, Prelate Arturius,' says Aelish. 'And we have

been able to penetrate elemental and cosmic planes. Isn't that right, Sciomore?'

'Correct,' says Sciomore, the lucidian. More solid than the rest, he stands draped in shimmering

robes of pale yellow. 'Though recording through a link established on the cosmic plane has proven

somewhat inconstant.'

'No matter,' says Prelate Arturius. 'The Emperor wishes to record his greatest accomplishment in the

archives of the Dreaming.'

'We hope this will prove to be a small boon to the Emperor,' says Aelish. 'Now, let us establish a

link to him.'

The pulsating globe begins to slowly turn as the dreamweavers surround it, manipulating the stuff of

the dreamrealm until the globe either grows enormously large or the dreamweavers dwindle to tiny

figures - though such distinctions are lost in the realm of the Dreaming. Within the globe, the

swirling colours form into the handsome merian features of Emperor Ladantine VII. Beside him are the

High Prophet Ghani n'Rotri of Magnagora, Holy Mother Shellma Natharian of Celest, Professor En'oonki

Lars of Hallifax, Grand Cipher Tlochaka Chum of Gaudiguch, and a furrikin who seems oddly out of

place. They walk through an impossible landscape of twisted metal and stand before a crystal pillar

pulsating with energy.

As the Emperor begins drawing energy from the crystal pillar, monstrous creatures of metal

materialise out of thin air, attacking all those around the pillar. The pure white energy that the

Emperor was drawing suddenly inverts, turning to black coruscating power. The Emperor screams, his

eyes snapping open to reveal ebony orbs instead of eyes.

With the sound of breaking glass, the image of the Emperor within the dream globe suddenly fractures,

and the globe darkens. The dreamweavers shuffle around.

'Did that really happen?' whispers Prelate Arturius. 'This is the dreamrealm. Could that have been

one of our unconscious nightmares instead?'

'I do not think so,' says Aelish softly. 'Something very wrong must have happened with Project

Cosmic Hope.'

'I am not feeling well,' says a female trill next to Aelish, her dreamform suddenly flickering.

'Aelish, my love, do you feel it?'

'Yes, Frai,' says Aelish to his wife. 'It is like...I'm suddenly filled with a hot lead.'

Just then, two of the merian dreamweavers and three of the trill scream and wink out of existence.

Strangely, the rest of the dreamweavers suddenly find themselves more solid than they had ever been

in the dreamrealm before - no longer were their dreamforms hazy, but rather preternaturally sharp.

'We have to go back to our bodies in Magnagora,' says Sciomore. 'The House of the Prophets is near

the Stone of Truth. If something happened to the Stone...'

Left unsaid is what they fear is all too likely: if their bodies have been harmed, their very

existence is in jeopardy. Closing their eyes, the dreamweavers fade away. However, one by one they

quickly return to the dreamrealm, their faces a mask of horror and revulsion.

'What happened to us!' cries another female trill, her eyes brimming with tears. 'That couldn't have

been my body! That ugly, twisted thing!'

'Calm down, Serane,' says Aelish to the trill. 'We have to think this through.'

'We're dead in the real world!' says Serane. 'We must be! Why are we so solid here? That's never

happened before.'

'It's the Empire's fault,' growls Aelish, his features suddenly turning dark with hatred. He forms a

twisting bolt of lightning from the Dreaming and throws it at Prelate Arturius. 'You! You and the

Empire have doomed us all!'

'Fool!' hisses Prelate Arturius, swatting the bolt of lightning aside as a darkness settles on his

own brow. 'You dare to question the Empire! You will bow down and obey me!'

'We will do no such thing,' hisses Serane, lifting her arms and forming a ball of pulsating indigo

energy.

The dreamscape flickers, an endless grey that stretches to infinity. But now dozens of figures clash

together, screaming with hatred, twisting the stuff of dreams to reflect their own warped fantasies.

Horrific creations borne of their perverse imaginations scatter across alien landscapes that bubble

across the endless horizon.

Twelve suns blaze in the purple sky, competing with each other in brilliance. Fiery clouds stream

from horizon to horizon, casting forks of black lightning that blast the ground and leave behind

smoking craters. Six figures stand before the Heart of the Dreaming, now an angry grey gash that

bleeds the stuff of dreams. Before them kneels Prelate Arturius, wrapped in writhing chains of

darkness.

'You have lost, Prelate,' says Aelish, wielding a sword of pure energy. 'Your dreamweavers are dead

or scattered to the far reaches of the Dreaming. We control the Heart. We are the masters here!'

'I'll join you!' says Prelate Arturius, voice cracking with desperation. 'Let me live and I'll serve

you!'

'It is too late for that!' snarls Aelish. Turning, he nods to a massive figure whose muscular body

is covered in tattoos and battle scars. 'You know what to do, Karagash.'

Grabbing the sobbing man by the neck, Karagash lifts him overhead and shoves him towards the Heart

of the Dreaming. The prelate struggles, beating his fists against the gigantic forearms of Karagash,

but to no avail. With a sudden vicious shove, Karagash sends the prelate into the Heart. He screams,

eyes wide in agony, as his dreambody breaks apart into motes of light.

'So it is done,' says Aelish.

'There are only six of the Circle of the Deep left,' says Serane, adjusting her glossy ebon curls. A

mirror forms before her as she admires herself, washing the detritus of war from her armour with

naught but a wave of her hand.

'Now what do we do?' asks Luella, another female trill, her green eyes flickering across the waste

around them. 'We have won the Dream Wars, but we are still trapped in the Dreaming. Our bodies have

long since turned to dust. Not that we could even return to Hallifax if we wanted, for it is lost as

well.'

'We control the Heart of Vestera,' says Aelish. 'By our will, we can create a realm here to rival

reality. Nay, to be better than reality! Frai, you are with me, yes?'

'Of course,' says Frai behind a cloak of floating shadow. Her form is hidden and her voice a grating

rasp: whatever she suffered during the Dream Wars, she was unable to maintain her trill dreambody,

and has become something far worse than nightmares. 'But whatever we create here will it hold.'

To prove her point, Frai waves a gloved hand overhead, and the twelve suns wink out, replaced by an

expanse of darkness. The fiery clouds are shredded by enormous invisible claws. Silence descends

around them.

'There may be a way,' says Sciomore, the lone lucidian of the group. 'We have the Heart of the

Dreaming. By our will, we can construct a focus over it that holds the shape we create here.'

'Yes!' says Luella, gazing around herself with renewed hope. 'A new world, pristine and permanent!

Not marred by civilization - we saw where that got us with the Empire. But a world where nature is

unblemished, even improved upon.'

'What would you call this construct, Sciomore?' asks Aelish.

'I would call it the Narcoponatrix.'

Fine lines of power travel from the fingertips of Sciomore to the incredibly complex construct known

as the Narcoponatrix. With intense concentration, he makes delicate adjustments, causing silvery

grey waves to emanate from within the device. Peering up, his jeweled eyes focus on some distant

focal point. He frowns slightly as he notices that much of the power siphons to Serane, as she

preens and prepares herself in the mirror, desperate to make herself perfect.

'Wasteful,' he mutters to himself, anger causing his body to blaze red.

Sciomore pauses, vaguely remembering being once known as imperturbable and sedate. But ever since

they became trapped in the Dreaming, his emotions have been as volatile as a volcano. It must be

Serane's fault, he muses, as nothing infuriates him more than squandering the power of his greatest

work on that obsessive need for beauty. He will improve himself, yes, they all must - but he will do

it logically. Purposefully.

Admiring the Narcoponatrix once more, Sciomore believes they have created a world better than the

old. The phantom world they came from had so many imperfections and flaws. Now, they have built a

new world; this Nirvana.

It would be perfect...if it weren't for Serane.

Emerging from the shadows of the Citadel of Nirvana, Frai approaches the Narcoponatrix, once called

the Heart of Vestera. She knows she is broken. During the Dream Wars, she was held captive for a

very long time, the renegade dreamweavers doing unspeakable things to her. But she freed herself...

and her revenge was so, so very sweet. She caresses the Narcoponatrix, fondly remembering feeding

her enemies to the Heart it hides.

But now what is there to do? She could visit the phantom world, enter the minds of those who touched

the Dreaming, but what are their little fears and desires to her? The others, meanwhile, are

preoccupied with creating Nirvana; they had to imagine and will into being every stone, every blade

of grass, every speck of dust. But what is it to her?

The only thing that matters now is Aelish. Once her husband, now her...what? Do such mortal tethers

even matter to them now? He still trusts her, she knows. Of all of them, it is to her that Aelish

tells of his hopes and fears, suspicions and aspirations. His secrets.

Frai stares darkly at the Narcoponatrix that Aelish believes is their hope and salvation. But it is

Sciomore's creation, and he understands it more than any of them. Aelish relies on the lucidian more

and more. Was Sciomore going to replace her in Aelish's regard? No. That cannot be; her power lies

in the hands of others, as it always has done. And without her link to him...

But the Narcoponatrix is complete, or nearly so. Do they even need Sciomore? Nirvana is as solid and

stable as anything in the phantom realm. Frai has to admit that it is as perfect as one could get to

Aelish's vision.

It would be sublime...if it weren't for Sciomore.

Heavy boots thumping upon the ground, Karagash stops before the Narcoponatrix and marvels at its

precision and strength. Nirvana indeed is a new world, perfect in every way.

But beyond its borders, there are threats still out there. Some of the renegades of the Dream Wars

still lurk in the wilds of the Dreaming beyond Nirvana. And what of these Elder Gods that those in

the phantom world mutter about in their sleep - could they be a threat? Surely not even gods could

penetrate the field generated by the Narcoponatrix, not while the Dreaming existed.

But preparations and contingencies needed to be made. Karagash is devoted to Aelish. Too long have

they fought side by side to be anything but loyal to one another. Even still, he cannot help but be

frustrated that Aelish doesn't listen to him when he raises his concerns. The Creator listens to

Frai, though; strange Frai, who cannot even create a proper body for herself. What has she been

whispering to him? What plots is she hatching?

With a sigh, Karagash taps the Narcoponatrix and thinks of all the defenses that could be created to

protect Nirvana. Safeguards that Karagash believes only he could erect if Aelish would just allow

him to divert resources to them. Otherwise, Nirvana was pure perfection.

It would be strong...if it weren't for Frai.

Standing before the Narcoponatrix, Aelish crosses his arms and considers all they have been through

and all that have yet to accomplish. Obviously, they are gods now, having transcended their puny

existence in the phantom world. But what are gods without worshippers?

What needs to be done is obvious. Mortals in the phantom world need to make their way to Nirvana.

But how? Some there still know the arts of dreamweaving. That could be problematic. But with their

total control of the Narcoponatrix, nothing could be created without their permission.

Of course, Karagash is constantly prattling about new security measures. But Karagash is a warrior

through and through. Without Karagash, the Dream Wars may very well have gone a different way. But

the wars are over, so what uses would Karagash put his military skills towards? Taking over Nirvana.

Pacing around the Narcoponatrix, Aelish imagines all the ways Karagash could overthrow him. Though

he only really trusts Frai, Aelish does not consider any of the others a threat...just Karagash.

Nirvana is his world, after all. Nirvana is his will made manifest. Nirvana is perfection.

It could remain his...if it weren't for Karagash.

Drawing power from the Narcoponatrix, Serane uses it to infuse her hair with even more vitality and

luster. She laughs as each strand swirls about her face, hugging her cheekbones just so, accenting

the curve of her neck, the tilt of her eyes. Her skin fairly smolders like shimmering silk. Her lips

are stained shining plum and form the perfect bow. Her dancing eyes, lit with naught but flames, are

surrounded by double rows of dark lashes.

Serane is flawless and she knows it. If those in the phantom world were to see her, they surely

would fall down to worship her. She shudders at the thought of the phantom world. Several times,

they possessed bodies down there to investigate, but the phantom world was so ugly, so filled with

unpleasant smells and grime and endless disgusting qualities. Nature has been wounded and scarred

there, and must regain its Potential.

Of all the new gods, she is the most beautiful. Isn't she? Though Serane admits only to herself that

Luella is attractive. It infuriates Serane that Luella does nothing to enhance her beauty, doesn't

even seem aware of her attractiveness, makes no effort to capitalise upon it. She rides upon the

tails of Nature's gifts and does them no justice.

What if Luella were to put as much effort into her beauty as Serane did for herself? Would Luella

eclipse her? This vexes Serane, who chews her lip - but then stops in case it mars her perfect

features. Luella is surely up to something, constantly creating gardens and forests, ignoring even

Aelish in her fixation on forcing nature upon all things, as if nature could not take care of itself.

Wasn't Nirvana perfect as it was? Of course, it was.

It could be beautiful...if it weren't for Luella.

Luella smiles before the Narcoponatrix, knowing she will one day be its sole master. The others play

with it, creating this Citadel of marble and gold, creating their temples and shrines, but Luella

has bigger plans, greater ambitions than to be a god among many. Her will is greater than all of the

others, even Aelish.

With her vision, Luella plans to create a world of perfect nature, each ecosystem dependent on each

other, a clockwork world of predator and prey, weather and evolution. There will be no room for

sentient life, no room for gods. Except for her, of course. She is Nature. She is the Spring and the

Summer, the Autumn and the Winter. She is Light and Dark and Sun and Moon and Stars.

With the Narcoponatrix complete, Luella imagines how she will fill Nirvana with forests and valleys,

mountains and seas, completing the work that the gods before her failed so miserably at. Nirvana

beckons her to fulfill its destiny. A destiny she could manifest by her will alone.

It could be glorious...if it weren't for Aelish.

Shonjir · December 2015

Loved reading this!!

Moi · December 2015

Grumble grumble, do a reading or something in character, so people can comment in character. Grumble.

Qistrel · December 2015

And a new villain, not just more soulless gods!

Zagreus · December 2015

Very sad I missed this finale.

Honour line, new area (that cannot be accessed but counts for explorers? wtf?), killing gods, general chaos.

All my soft spots, and I missed it

Moi · December 2015

Its going to be made accessible again. See QUEST NIRVANA. They wouldn't have put that if it was one time only. Right?

Siam · December 2015

Wow Luella wow.

Salome · December 2015

I'm going to need a copy of this for my book IG. So great.

Tylwyth · December 2015

Iytha said:

Its going to be made accessible again. See QUEST NIRVANA. They wouldn't have put that if it was one time only. Right?

They've said it will be.

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