Kran returned just before dusk. He looked restless, his usual snark muted as he landed beside me.
"Everything is ready," he said, but his tone was quieter than usual.
"So, we're doing this tonight?" I asked, sensing the change in him.
"Yeah. You've strengthened your core enough to handle the heart. It'll be tonight."
"You seem... off. Are you okay?"
"Just met an old friend," he muttered, his metallic wings twitching. "Makes you realize how much time has passed, you know?"
I could tell it was weighing on him, so I let it go. Whatever happened, it seemed personal.
Rem burst into the room, her face lit up with excitement. "When are we leaving?"
"We're heading out now," I said, glancing at Kran.
"Snack is coming too?" he teased, looking at the small figure of Rem hovering near the door.
"Of course I'm coming!" Rem snapped. "I still don't trust you fully."
With that, we set off. Kran led the way, guiding us through the maze of streets that crisscrossed the city. As we moved deeper into the city's less-traveled areas, the atmosphere became eerier. Fewer people lingered around, and the alleys grew narrow and silent. Eventually, we arrived at a statue of a giant holding a bowl.
"Are we lost?" Rem asked, her brow furrowed.
Kran said nothing. Instead, he flew up to the statue, igniting a flame in the bowl. The ground trembled beneath us, and a hidden tunnel entrance revealed itself.
"W-Whoa…" Rem gasped, staring in amazement as the stone ground shifted and opened.
"Come on," Kran said without looking back, already descending into the dark tunnel.
The tunnel twisted and turned, its path like a labyrinth, and I quickly lost any sense of direction. Yet Kran led us with precision, as if he had memorized every corner. The deeper we went, the hotter the air became, thick with the scent of earth and fire.
We came upon another statue—a giant holding a hammer, poised to strike an anvil. Without hesitation, Kran flew to the base of the statue and etched words into the stone: Born in roots of Mother, Forged in Fire of Father.
With a low rumble, the wall before us slid away, revealing a vast underground city, and the sight made my breath catch. The roots of the fallen Worldtree formed massive arches overhead, their twisted shapes glowing faintly with the light of bioluminescent fungi. Buildings grew out of the roots as if they were a natural part of the tree, and everywhere I looked, there were giants moving about with purpose. Their size was immense. The place looked untouched from outside, It was clear that this city had thrived for countless generations, hidden from the surface world.
Kran didn't pause to admire the view. "Keep moving," he said, his voice sharp. "We're not here for sightseeing."
We continued through the city, deeper and deeper into its core. Every step we took brought more heat, more sounds of labor echoing off the stone walls. The buildings became fewer, replaced by vast forges where giants worked with fire and steel. The ground beneath us changed from soil to smooth, hard stone, polished by countless feet. The giants we passed here were even larger than the ones above, their bodies scarred from years of work.
Finally, we reached a massive chamber where the roots of the Worldtree formed a dome over our heads. The walls were lined with dead bodies ancient dragons, their bodies intertwined with the roots as if they were part of the tree itself. In the center of the chamber stood a colossal bowl, filled with molten fire. Three enormous dragons, their forms also fused with the roots, breathed fire into the bowl, their eyes glowing with a fierce light. The heat was almost unbearable, radiating from the bowl in waves.
The bowl was suspended by thick chains, each one held by teams of giants straining to control its weight. The fire pouring from the dragons' mouths was not just ordinary flame—it was pure somnium, flowing like liquid gold. The air thrummed with its energy, making my skin tingle.
Two elder giants stood near the bowl, their armor gleaming like dragon scales. They bowed slightly when they saw Kran, their faces unreadable.
"Is he the one?" one of the giants asked, his voice deep and heavy.
"Yes," Kran replied. "Bring the heart forward."
The giants moved carefully, retrieving the heart I had carried with me. Even in their massive hands, they treated it with reverence. They placed it on a great stone anvil at the edge of the fiery bowl, and with a command from the elders, the fire intensified. The dragons' eyes glowed brighter, and the giants pulled the chains to tilt the bowl, pouring the molten somnium over the heart.
As the fire hit the heart, it began to glow. Each pulse of light was like a heartbeat, and with every beat, the heart absorbed more somnium. The glow intensified, and soon it was beating with a life of its own, the sound echoing through the chamber. My skin prickled as I watched, the energy building up inside the heart growing stronger by the second.
I felt a familiar pressure on my back, I couldn't put my finger on why it was familiar. It was growing stronger with each beat of the heart, like something was pushing against me from within. It was an uncomfortable, almost painful feeling—one that I couldn't ignore.
"Take the knife," Kran ordered, his voice getting more excited every second. "Stab the heart and consume the somnium. This is the moment."
I reached into the bracelet and pulled out the knife made out of flesh of a Dragonlord, the blade gleaming in the firelight. The pressure on my back intensified, like something was clawing its way to the surface. I could feel this was dangerous, but I had come too far to back down. If I wanted to find Shaureen, if I wanted the strength to face whatever was ahead, I had to do this.
I stepped up to the heart. It was glowing with pure energy, its beats shaking the very ground beneath me. My back ached with the growing pressure, but I lifted the knife high. With one final breath, I brought it down, stabbing the heart.
The moment the blade pierced the heart, everything went silent. The fire, the sound of the giants, the pounding of hammers—it all stopped. The heart shuddered, and somnium flooded into me, a torrent of raw power that hit me like a tidal wave. It coursed through my veins, overwhelming every sense.
And then I saw them—five slits, lined horizontally in the air before me, like cracks in reality itself. Behind each slit floated orbs, dark and swirling, like eyes watching me from another world. The eyes felt familiar, haunting. These were the same eyes I had seen before, during my ignition. Their gaze was crushing, suffocating, like they were stripping away every part of me, layer by layer.
I tried to fight it, but the power was too much. The somnium inside me was burning, refining my core over and over, but my mind was being torn apart by the eyes. They were too much. Too powerful. Too overwhelming.
As the somnium continued to surge, my body couldn't take it anymore. My vision blurred, and the world around me began to fade. The last thing I saw before everything went dark were the eyes, still watching me, still devouring me.
[Rise, Sovereign. The Throne sees you.]
Then, nothing.
---
As Ashborn was experiencing all of that, the entire Dreamscape was plunged into chaos. The skies of every world cracked open, jagged tears forming in the fabric of reality as the Mouths of Dreams descended, their forms floating above all else. Their voices, deep and otherworldly, resonated across the entire worlds, sending shivers down the spines of all who heard them:
[A Fated Sovereign has risen to claim the Throne of Dreams!]
The announcement echoed through the Second and First planes, its power undeniable, stirring fear and awe in equal measure. It was the first time in millennia that such a message had been delivered, and each world trembled under its weight.
In an instant, the First Doors—the first of the ancient gateways leading to the Throne—creaked open for the first time in thousands of years. The invisible pulse they sent out was felt by all, like a drumbeat reverberating through the Land of Dreams.
In the capitals of the thirteen nations, panic spread like wildfire. Each leader of the great nations hurried to convene emergency meetings, their faces pale with the gravity of the situation. What had been a time of political maneuvering and quiet tension was now ignited by this unexpected event.
"He actually did it..." Lilith whispered to herself, eyes wide, as she stood at the window of her grand palace. The voice of the Mouth had shaken her, but the reality of the situation left her speechless. She spoke with Kran merely a week ago, and didn't expect him to already come this far. "What are you going to do next, Guardian of Abyss?"
In a quiet corner of the Second Plane, the Old Man at the Realmbond Relic Store gently turned the "Open" sign to "Closed." He muttered nothing, calmly moving towards the backside of the shop.
Elsewhere, Shaureen gazed up at a sky filled with blooming flowers, not caring about the words of Mouths. The floral display, so serene and beautiful, mocked the chaos unfolding around her. She clenched her fists. The same creatures that had kept her brother from leaving with her, causing his death were now heralding something called a new Fated Sovereign. She knew that was probably something important, but she didn't care. All that mattered was the seething anger that simmered inside her just by seeing the Mouths.
All across the Dreamscape, thousands rushed to uncover the meaning behind the announcement. Who was this Fated Sovereign? Someone was claiming the Throne of Dreams? For some, curiosity burned bright as they sought answers, while others simply shrugged it off, dismissing the unfolding history, unaware of the storm on the horizon.
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit chamber somewhere deep within the First Plane, fourteen golden-masked figures sat in a circle, their discussion suddenly interrupted by the words of the Mouths. The air in the room grew heavy with tension. The delicate balance of power they had worked so hard to maintain was now at risk of being shattered.
"Impossible..." one of them muttered.
"No, it was inevitable," another said, voice laced with a grim certainty. "We must prepare."
Far away, in a forsaken world where a single prisoner lay bound in chains, a deep, guttural laughter echoed through the desolate land. The prisoner, shackled by countless iron chains, grinned through the madness in his eyes. He felt the shifting tides, the rising chaos. It amused him—the ever consuming Chaos.
Amidst all of this, high atop one of the massive glowing mushrooms of the Fallen Worldtree, a Dwarf scratched his head in frustration, still trying to figure out how to climb down from his lofty perch. The chaos sweeping the Dreamscape seemed a distant concern as he muttered to himself, "Why does everything have to be so damned tall?"
---