The still lake lay in ever silent serenity, reflecting the prismatic sky above. The stars glimmer with resplendence from both within and without, making merry with their cherished fire kin. Their hearts blaze with unseen flames, beating with a sonorous hum that is only echoed by those like them. Their crowns yet cast glorious lights upon the ever dark, hailing that which created them, long lost and forgotten.
Forgotten by those who gaze upon their distant twinkling lights, by those who claim to chase after the First Flame, the one said to have birthed the First Dream. Mere Dreams indeed they are, delusions and lies they tell themselves to soothe their waning pride. Yet no dignity is theirs who are blind. They all have lost sight of it. They all have forgotten. But the stars never did, for within them is the mere ember of a flame that cannot be observed by anyone, hidden beneath the layers of the stars' fiery flesh, sustaining their unfathomably transient lives.
The still lake lay in the ever silent dark, waiting in serenity for the time it too shall be lit ablaze. But for now, it would serve its purpose. The still lake rippled, ending its ancient quiet. A soft footfall shattered the silence, but soon, the silence came with it. A different silence, not of desolation or isolation. It was the silence of harmony, of purpose come true and fulfilled.
As Uriah paced forward, the door behind him closed shut and vanished. He had now entered the promenade of worlds, the Reverie Corridor. Allowed only to the Pathstriders of Reverie, they may traverse that which they can conceive, that which they are cognisant of. This is the power held by Reverie. It was no fickle thing like Dreams that would grant false hopes to the downtrodden. In Reverie, everything is as one makes of it.
The Corridor was unfathomably vast, nigh endless in its scope. After all, the only limitation here is one's imagination. If one could conceive it or be cognisant of it, one would reach it. The Reverie Corridor shall pave the way. And all the twinkling stars in the great beyond, they might as well be within arms' reach. But Uriah had no designs for them at the moment. He only continued to walk, aimlessly and leisurely.
Deep in thought, the essence of Reverie swam all around him, following him like ink would the brush that inscribed it into words upon parchment. His thoughts drifted to his home, the memories he had of it. He felt no impatience, but anxiety still gripped his heart. How much would have changed? How much would he have missed? Would he still recognise it or the people living in it? Would they still recognise him? Thinking back on it now, perhaps it was because of this that he held an inherent dislike of Dreams.
Without Dreams, there would be no Final Slumber. Without Dreams, they would not be seeking rest from an otherwise fallacious legend. Without Dreams, their lives would not be kindled by lies, stripped of all hope and peace. But it was too late to recognise that now. His Final Slumber had come. And he had woken again. Now, it was his responsibility to grant the universe its deserved Freedom in Reverie.
As his thoughts settled, the essence of Reverie swirled around him, converging into the milky white thread with a touch of pink. It would be his guide, his anchor in this vast sea of stars. And with it, the Reverie Corridor led him on his path, opening a door to a new world. As Uriah drew close to it, he wondered how others would ever be able to use the Reverie Corridor. The required essence of Reverie had already reached such ludicrous levels that had he not been the Origin of Reverie, he might not have been able to do what he hoped to do, crossing the vast universe.
But perhaps that in itself is a trial. Reverie already grants one the power to do what they can conceive. Should they wish for more, it would prove only their inadequacy. To them, there shall be no such thing as demand. They shall have no wants for all that they might ever need is brewing within the depths of their minds, unafraid to shatter the predetermined rules that others seem to love to impose upon everything.
"Everything is as a thought."
As Uriah's words rang out, it resonated with the harmonic silence of the Reverie Corridor. And the twinkling stars far beyond stirred with emotion. But he paid no mind to any of these, only stepping through the new door created for him. In Lombros, however, his words had caused quite a stir. His ascendant body that lay peacefully in the Cradle of Reverie erupted with a burst of invisible flames that then created clouds of unknowable things. They seem to be nebulae, but at the same time, just simple clouds in the sky. They spread out, first covering the entirety of Lombros and then outside it.
The clouds spread excessively until it had covered a huge area of the void, enough to contain a few star systems. The clouds were like shiny pearls, its sheen seemingly reflecting the lights of the stars. Their glorious crowns offered to it as a mere piece, yet the cloud merely settled. It seemed devoid of authority, but for a phenomenon of such a size, how could it possibly ever be powerless. In its depths, the Cradle of Reverie lay quietly, veiled by the alluring clouds.
As his feet stepped onto solid ground once more, Uriah saw a different view. It seemed he had arrived at nighttime as the sky had already gone dark. But the world itself had not. Neon lights stretched as far as the eye could see, giving the citadel of steel a lively atmosphere. It was a sleepless city whose skyline was crowded with vehicles coming and going. The steel monuments rose high, some even reaching the clouds. It was evident that this world was thriving in one way or another.
Uriah let out a helpless sigh. He had arrived right in front of the place that should have been his family's home. But all he found was a skyscraper, the blaring noise coming from inside suggesting a culture he did not want to even learn. A steady trickle of people entering and exiting the building carried with them a multitude of scents that would have made his stomach churn had he not already ascended. Even just glancing around him, he could find no less than a hundred people with suspicious behaviours.
He had to admit. Time has indeed flowed without him. This world was far from what he remembered it to be. Back then, land was in abundance. Lords would often call upon their citizens, leading them to march in conquest. He had no intent to suffer through such ordeals which was why he became a scholar instead, hoping to remain with his family and bring comfort to their lives. But now, not even his family's tiny plot of land was spared, reclaimed for whatever use this building had besides harbouring the crippled who sought an escape from the waking nightmare.
How long did it take? A hundred years? A thousand? His family had suffered, flooded by Time as they waited by the bank. He could not help them, not anymore. They are lost to him now. After so long, he was certain that they have already welcomed their Final Slumber as well. Or perhaps, they might have even met the rare death in this universe. Either way, he will only be able to help them once he found them. And they would certainly not be here.
Taking one last melancholic glance at the strange cityscape filled with neon lights, Uriah turned around and walked out of the city. The city proper was easily distinguishable by the walls that lined its borders. And yet, even within the vast city, there was another set of walls that separated it into a higher city and a lower city. He had just exited the walls of the lower city, coming upon the less developed and clearly unsanitary outskirts. It was clear that disease was rampant in this place, and yet the sick could not even greet death's comforting embrace. This universe was so utterly cursed that no form of rest was allowed to them but the Final Slumber.
It was humiliating, being tricked into self-flagellation for the entertainment of a higher power who brought only false promises. Uriah wished he could just burn it all, end the sufferings of this world. But he knew it would do nothing to deliver a singular world from the sadistic grasp of Dreams. Freedom cannot be achieved by that alone. Not until the very Crucible burns with the singular unseen flame of Reverie would all be free, to dream.
And just as well, he had already felt the encroachment of another authority, another path. From the distant skies, the sound of sirens blaring reached Uriah's ears. The city would not even recognise it amidst the chaotic noises within, but out in the badlands where civilisation might as well have decayed and fallen to utter ruin, they were as clear as day. And not long after, they had surrounded Uriah just as he left the city outskirts.
"Nightless, is it you who corrupted my home?"