The sky had split.
Not in the violent way that legends had spoken of the sky cracking open to unleash the wrath of ancient gods. No, this was subtler, quieter, like a dream unraveling at the seams, where reality and myth began to blur, and the ordinary world crumbled at the edges.
Astraea stood on a hill overlooking the city, her once-mighty kingdom now just a faint memory etched into her bones. She had been a queen once, a warrior who commanded armies, a figure of both reverence and fear. Now, she was a shadow, a ghost of herself. No one saw her anymore, no one remembered her name. She had been banished to walk unseen among the living, a consequence of her hubris in that final battle long ago when the Dreaming Gods had taken everything from her.
The wind swept through her, a cold reminder that she did not truly exist in this realm anymore. She could feel it, the way her fingers no longer gripped the sword she once wielded with ease, the way her feet barely touched the ground. She was fading, her legend dissolving into the air, soon to be forgotten entirely.
But tonight, something was different. The stars above flickered in a pattern she hadn't seen in centuries a signal, a beckoning. The Dreaming Gods were stirring, their ancient voices echoing through the ether, calling her back to a purpose she had long since abandoned. For the first time in years, Astraea felt a pulse of power deep within her chest, as if some forgotten part of herself had been reawakened.
She turned away from the city, its glass towers shimmering in the distance, and started her descent toward the forgotten desert that stretched beyond. She had a kingdom to find. Or perhaps, a new one to claim.
In another part of the city, Ikaros stared at the blueprint scattered across his workbench, his fingers trembling with excitement and fear. His lab was a chaotic mess of half-built machines, twisted metal, and glowing screens, each one buzzing with a low hum, like a swarm of restless bees. But this this device was different. It wasn't just another failed attempt at innovation. This time, he was close. He could feel it.
The time-altering device in front of him hummed softly, a sphere of glass and copper wires, pulsing with the faint glow of energy. If it worked, he could break the cycle. He could change his family's curse, undo the fate that had bound them for generations.
But there was a part of him, buried deep under layers of ambition, that whispered doubt. It was the same voice that had whispered to his ancestor Icarus, urging him to fly higher, closer to the sun. Ikaros had always dismissed it, pushing forward, convinced that he could succeed where others had failed. Yet, the thought gnawed at him: What if this too ended in disaster?
He ran his hand through his hair, messy and unkempt from nights spent awake, and glanced at the clock. It was late, and the city outside his window was quiet, a few distant lights flickering like dying embers. And then, he saw it a ripple in the air, faint at first, but unmistakable. Time had shifted, bending ever so slightly, like a wave rolling through the fabric of the universe.
The Dreaming Gods were watching.
With a deep breath, Ikaros stepped toward the machine. He would fly, once more, and this time, he would not fall.
Selene walked the streets in silence, her footsteps light on the cracked pavement, her fingers tracing the walls as she passed. The chalk in her hand felt heavy, though it weighed almost nothing. She had been here before this street, this city, this moment. It had all happened before, countless times, in her dreams, in her visions. The future was always the same, and yet, she could never stop it.
She paused at the corner of an alley, her eyes narrowing as she read the signs she had left for herself, cryptic messages scrawled in looping, jagged script. The stars will fall. The sky will shatter. The gods are awakening. She didn't need to look up to know that the sky had already begun to ripple, the world starting to fracture at the edges. She could feel it in her bones, the way the air had shifted, the way the city itself seemed to hold its breath.
A man passed her by, his eyes glazed, lost in his own world. He didn't notice her, just like the others. They never noticed her. Not until it was too late.
She sighed and crouched down, writing a new message on the wall in front of her: The crossroads approaches. Choose wisely.
Her visions were always accurate. But her curse was never to speak them aloud. It had driven her mad in the early years, knowing the future but never being able to stop it, watching as the world crumbled, again and again. But now, she had learned to accept it. To live in the in-between spaces, where she could guide without intervening, watch without speaking.
And tonight, she knew, something was coming. The Dreaming Gods were stirring. Their echoes vibrating through time and space, calling her and the others toward an inevitable convergence.
Orion paced the rooftop, his heart racing, his fists clenched. Below him, the city rumbled with the faint sound of unrest a protest, a riot, or maybe just the usual hum of discontent that seemed to permeate every corner of this place. It didn't matter. He had been here before, in this same battle, fighting the same wars. The faces changed, the regimes shifted, but the fight was always the same.
His revolution had once felt noble, righteous even. But now, after so many years, after so many failures, he was starting to doubt. What was the point? No matter how hard he fought, no matter how many governments he toppled, the cycle continued. Oppressors replaced by new oppressors. Freedom followed by chains. It was endless.
And yet, he couldn't stop. The fire still burned within him, though it was dimmer now, flickering in the wind like a candle about to go out. He looked up at the sky, at the faint ripple that had appeared there, like a crack in reality itself.
The Dreaming Gods.
They had cursed him long ago, bound him to this eternal struggle, this endless rebellion. But tonight, something was different. He could feel it. The gods were waking, and with them, perhaps, a new chance. A new war. Or maybe, an end to all wars.
Orion smirked, lighting a cigarette as the city below him stirred. Whatever was coming, he would face it head-on. He always did.
The sky had split, but the world remained unaware. In the distance, the echoes of the Dreaming Gods grew louder, weaving through the streets, the skies, the dreams of those who were chosen.
Astraea, Ikaros, Selene, and Orion each felt the pull, the call of something greater than themselves. Their stories were about to intertwine, their fates linked by forces older than time.
And in the shadows, the Dreaming Gods waited, watching, as the echoes of their ancient power began to ripple through the world once more.