The sharp clash of blades echoed through the dark, ancient woods, where no living soul remained to hear it. Shadows stretched across the forest floor, broken only by the gleam of two blades locked in combat.
A woman with black hair, her eyes bound by a tattered cloth and crowned by a fractured, ancient circlet, tilted her head, gauging her opponent from the twisted branches of a gnarled tree with hollow, weeping faces carved into its bark. Her dress, once fine, hung in tatters, a relic of long-lost elegance. She jumped to a higher branch, pausing to observe the figure below.
"Your strength is… extraordinary," she murmured, almost in admiration.
The woman below met her gaze—or what would have been her gaze—with a steady, fearless look, ignoring the praise. Her hair fell in long, flowing waves, part of it pulled back with an elegance that only accentuated her poise. Her expression was calm, yet her silver eyes, with their subtle, otherworldly glow, hinted at untold power and unshakable resolve. She wore a sleek, fitted dress with a high slit and lace-trimmed edges, every detail conveying both elegance and deadly precision. Arm-length gloves covered her hands, and a small gemstone embedded in her upper arm pulsed with light in sync with her movements.
Twin blades, shimmering with a silver aura under the light of a second moon, rested in her hands. It was Shaureen.
"Do you even understand what you're trying to free?" The woman on the branch spoke, her voice carrying both warning and weariness. "Do you understand why that man was imprisoned?"
Shaureen's eyes narrowed, her voice unwavering. "I know what I'm here to do, and no words of yours will shake my resolve. Now, step aside—if you care about your own life."
A silence lingered between them as the crowned woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "So, you understand the gravity of your actions," she said, her voice hardened. "Then I won't hold back."
With her words, a chorus of low, mournful cries rose from the forest around them as the faces carved into every dead tree twisted in silent agony. Their bark split, and from the roots emerged the Dreamless—human forms, hollowed of souls and humanity, their once-living eyes replaced by empty blackness, and their limbs twisted into unnatural shapes.
The Dreamless moved in, their hollowed eyes fixed on Shaureen with unnatural, relentless focus. The figures were silent now, their sorrowful cries replaced by a chilling, predatory quiet as they closed in. The woods felt heavier, as though the twisted trees themselves watched eagerly, waiting to witness the inevitable clash.
Shaureen's silver eyes scanned the oncoming horde, her gaze steady and unwavering. With a quiet breath, she adjusted her stance, her twin blades glinting as her fingers tightened around their hilts.
The woman with the tattered crown watched her from the branches, her own expression obscured but her presence dark and commanding. "Your persistence," she murmured, "will only lead you deeper into this curse."
Without a word, Shaureen moved. Her blades whirled like twin streaks of silver light, slashing through the Dreamless as they lunged at her with twisted limbs and eerie silence. She sliced cleanly through the first wave, their bodies falling away like shadows dissipating under the light. But for every one that fell, another three took its place, each moving with unnatural agility.
Shaureen's movements were fluid and precise, each swing of her blades calculated to keep the creatures at bay without wasting a single motion. Yet with each step forward, the forest seemed to constrict around her, the dead trees drawing closer, their hollow faces contorting into expressions of silent anger.
Above, the woman with the crown lifted her arms, and with a command that resonated through the trees, she summoned more of the Dreamless from the earth. Their forms crawled out from twisted roots and crumbling trunks, a seemingly endless wave that surrounded Shaureen from all sides.
Shaureen glanced up at her opponent, her expression calm despite the encroaching threat. "If you think a thousand of these empty shells will hold me back," she said, her voice cool, "you'll find yourself disappointed."
"Perhaps it won't," the woman replied, her voice laced with the faintest hint of a smile. "But it will certainly delay you."
Shaureen's eyes flashed, and she raised her swords, drawing in energy from the silver moon above. The aura around her blades intensified, growing so bright it cast sharp shadows across the dead forest floor. With a swift spin, she unleashed a shockwave of light, cutting through the nearest Dreamless like brittle branches under a storm.
But as she moved forward, the forest itself fought back. The roots of the twisted trees erupted from the ground, coiling around her ankles, trying to halt her progress. Shaureen slashed down, severing the roots as they tried to entangle her, but they grew back even faster, each severed limb replaced by two more.
Her gaze shot back up to the woman above. "Is this the best you can do?" she called, her tone edged with a challenging defiance.
The woman's bound eyes seemed to gleam beneath her tattered blindfold. "The forest is endless. I could keep you here until the Rules die."
With a sudden surge of energy, Shaureen drove her blades into the ground, sending a burst of energy into the earth. The ground trembled, and with a roar of energy, the roots binding her shattered, and the Dreamless stumbled back, momentarily dazed.
Taking advantage of the opening, Shaureen leapt high into the air, her figure silhouetted against the second moon's light. She soared toward the woman in the tree, her blades raised, glinting with deadly intent.
The woman with the crown met her approach calmly, a twisted lance of dark wood appearing in her hand. With a fluid motion, she brought it forward to block Shaureen's strike. Their weapons clashed, the force sending a ripple through the forest, making even the mindless Dreamless hesitate.
For a tense moment, the two locked eyes—or as close to it as they could, given the woman's covered face. A faint smirk touched her lips, just as Shaureen felt the forest constricting around her once more. Branches reached for her, roots clawing from below, every tree stretching as if alive, eager to ensnare her.
But Shaureen's resolve only hardened. She drew in the silver light from the second moon, letting it flow into her until she was nearly blinding. With a burst of strength, she pushed against the woman's staff, sending her staggering back through the branches.
As the another one of the Dreamless fell to the ground, Shaureen glanced back just long enough to see the forest itself begin to twist and writhe with anger, but she pressed forward, unwavering.
"Tsk, guess I'll have to use it," she murmured, eyeing the unending wave of Dreamless and Dead Trees shifting closer. In one fluid motion, she cleared a small path, creating a moment's pause. Her twin blades vanished as she slipped off her left glove, revealing a glowing rune carved into her palm. Infusing it with somnium, the rune flared to life, summoning a broken sword into her grasp.
Its blade was a chaotic fusion of words and sentences, fragments woven together in constant flux. The hilt, ancient and worn, looked as though it could crumble at any moment.
"Impossible… How did you come by that?" For the first time, the woman with the crown showed a glimmer of worry.
Without a word, Shaureen raised the fractured sword, and the Dreamless lunged at her, desperate to prevent her advance. But with a single swing, her blade lashed forward in a surge of liquid-like words, dissolving her foes on impact. Each Dreamless was transformed into fragments of stories, their scattered sentences drifting like whispers.
Before the torrent of words reached the crowned woman, a black mist swelled around her, and she vanished from sight, whisked away from the path of Shaureens attack.
"Reckless as ever, Astera," chided a voice from the mist. A woman clad in flowing black, with dark wavy hair tumbling beneath an unnecessarily big hat, materialized nearby.
"Caere," Astera greeted, her frustration apparent. "I must stop her before—"
"You're already too late," Caere interrupted, her tone dry.
Astera clenched her fists, fury etched across her features. "But I have to—!"
"You were seconds from dissolving into nothing but sentences. With the Sword of Broken Stories in her possession, you can't stop her now."
Astera's hand trembled as her grip tightened. Yet, despite her anger, she knew she had lost; a monster sealed by Rule of Dreams themselves was about to roam free once again.
---
Now alone, Shaureen continued her way.
Moments later, she found herself outside the battlefield and at the mouth of a vast cave. The entrance loomed like the gaping maw of some ancient beast. A shallow stream flowed from the cave, its quiet trickling echoing in the otherwise empty forest. In stark contrast to its mundane appearance, the air held an unnatural stillness, and no trace of somnium could be felt.
As Shaureen took a hesitant step into the cavern, an unsettling realization struck her—somnium wasn't just absent, it simply did not flow here. The air felt heavy and void, as if even the very essence of power refused to cross this boundary. She gripped the hilt of the Sword of Broken Stories tighter, feeling its strange pulse under her hand as she advanced deeper into the dark.
Following the stream's faint trickle, she pressed forward, each step swallowed by the black silence. Her only guide was the sound of water slipping over stone. Gradually, a soft, silvery glow beckoned her deeper. She moved toward it, until the narrow path opened into a vast, moonlit chamber.
A single shaft of light spilled down from an opening above, illuminating a massive waterfall that tumbled down into a shallow pool. But the real reason for her journey stood suspended in the center of the chamber. A figure, bound by countless chains, each link etched with words of ancient power, hung with his arms spread wide.
He looked almost peaceful, his head tilted slightly downward, eyes covered by a simple black cloth. His long hair fell messily across his face and shoulders, casting shadows over the deep scars etched across his chest and arms. There was a ring covering one third of his right middle finger. It was more like a piece of a gauntlet that a Ring.
"Oh? Company at last," he murmured, lifting his head with a faint smirk. "Apologies for the poor decoration. I'd like to redesign it on day, but you know"—he jangled the chains—"I've been a bit... tied up."
"Are you the one known as Enemy of Rules?" Shaureen's voice was cold, unimpressed.
He chuckled, unperturbed. "I guess yes, that would be me. Since I don't see any other person hung up like a chandelier. Would you like a story on why? It only costs 15 cents, a nail, and the shell of a great-great-great-grandfather snail."
"Enough." Her gaze hardened. "I didn't come for your jokes. I came to make a deal."
"Ah, straightforward, I like that," he replied with a faint, mocking bow. "And what would you ask of this oversized pendant, I wonder?"
"The same thing you want—the end of all Rules."
"Hmm, a very clear wish." he mused, acting like he was considering it. "But there is the minor inconvenience of these chains. Each link is made of... rather discouraging material, you see." His smirk widened, mischievous. "Unless you happen to have something called, 'the Sword of Broken Stories' on your pocket, it is a bit impossible for me to help you."
In answer, Shaureen raised the chaotic blade, feeling it pulse like a living thing in her grip. With a single swing, she struck the chains, and they dissolved into liquid words and disjointed sentences. The shattered fragments of language drifted away, taking with them the remnants of the Sword of Broken Stories, which crumbled to dust in her hand.
"Welp, that was a quick answer."
Freed at last, he collapsed into the shallow pool below. Slowly, he rose, and shadows gathered around him, weaving themselves into clothes. Within seconds, he was cloaked in a dark, perfectly tailored and strikingly elegant long coat with high collar and a high-collared shirt beneath. He adjusted his sleeves, stretching as though he'd just awoken from a long slumber. He wasn't using Somnium to do create the clothes, and Shaureen didn't understand how he did it.
His eyes remained obscured by the black cloth, and the ring was still on his finger.
"Ah, Free at last! O the one ignoring all that divides and distinguishes, Do you still see me? I'll be worthy of your gaze once again!"
His words were filled with madness but his smile gleamed as he looked toward her.
"Milady," he said, sweeping into an exaggerated bow, "I am at your service."
"Are you not going to ask a price?" Shaureen's voice was steady, but curiosity flickered in her gaze.
"Price?" he laughed, straightening with a gleam of mischief. "You've already freed me, I have been there since Dreams took the title of Absolute Rule. On top of all that, you asked me to do what I exactly wished for. The debt is mine, I'd say." He paused, and suddenly appeared right in front of her. His face barely inches away, his head cocked as he studied her intently. "But I wonder, who are you to seek the downfall of the Rules?"
Her expression hardened, old pain flickering in her eyes. "I am Shaureen. I came from a forgotten world in the Third Plane, one the Rules never noticed… until they chose to destroy it." Her voice was thick with anger. "I lost everything. My brother, my family, and all because a Mouth of Dreams decided our lives didn't matter."
"Ah, a tale of revenge. Classic," he replied, the mockery gone from his voice, replaced by an approving glint. "I'm intrigued." He clapped his hands together, and a ring materialized between them, almost identical to one he wore, except for a mysterious symbol etched into the surface.
"Here," he said, extending his hand. "The first of many gifts I'll offer you from now on."
She reached out, and as he slipped the ring onto her middle finger, the symbol's meaning appeared on her mind:
' A_thor_ty of Ete_nity.'
"It's not perfect, since I'm not a Rule." he admitted with a smirk, "But it will be very useful for you. I'm sure you will figure out how to use it in no time.." He turned toward the cave entrance, visibly excited to go outside.
"Wait," she called, stopping him in his tracks. "You… do you have a name?"
"Oh, I did once," he replied with a casual shrug. "But someone rather hungry came along and ate it.
"Ate it?"
"Don't think much about it. You can give a new one to me if you want."
Her lips curved into a smile as she thought for a name. "Then… Kael. I'll call you Kael."
"Kael," he repeated, testing the name. "It sounds cool enough." With a smirk and a sweeping gesture, he extended an arm. "Shall we, then, Shaureen?"
She met his gaze with a nod, and together they stepped out of the cave, their shadows intertwining as they moved into the world outside.