It is so cold, here above the seas of interminable nothingness, pressured by robust arms. Its like his. Robust and pleasantly warm, but no matter how many times I opened my eyes, only the darkness grinned down, here where no winds blow. Who am I or we whose tender hair flitter about, tamed by a vagrant force quite like the wind?

  “” A name. My name. What a pleasant, sour breath caressing my trembling face.

  Memories flooded my mind, memories dammed by a strange spell. I am a Princaepstir, Daughter of Terrianis, destined to rule all the known and yet to be known lands of Elhyrissian. Though hesitant whether I am worthy to ascend, hoping answers would be found as I walked in the boots of my own late sister. Yet I witnessed only inequality, corruption and loss which I witnessed myself when my friend turned gold and disintegrated to be nothing more than a memory. And now I lay alone here, where Nothing reigns. Here where Nothing reigns, shall we walk the path of Renascence.

  Alone, it echoes in my mind, a grim reminder of my sacrifice to banish Dumath, The Beautiful who wished entrance to our realm, to enslave all mortal races I believe. Now our Empire shall remain without an inheritor, and me lost here forever.

  “ Voices came along with the lengthening land of white luminescence–or at least the hue stood closest to white–beyond my naked soles. Whispers in thousands, followed by the soft taps and far away repulsive silhouettes of spiders crawled up the precipice, their hardened exoskeletons a dark reddish-purple shade, and on their hideous fronts, stretched human or dwarven like visages stretched, wide lightless eyes, hideous mouths source of the whispers. And before I could lift up my legs and run, they surrounded me, circling like ravenous sharks or weedkiin, their front legs twisted into arms reaching for me.

  “” Could I believe their words? I should not have done so, but stranded in this queer place I followed until they led me to a portal.

  Beyond the portal, I stood and saw this strange land, this city erected from the colorful, luminescent stones of the darkest depths. Thousands or more screamed as beyond the walls, waves and the elementals raged, whilst a Pale Man stood in the air beside me, his eyes, his countenance empty as he watched the waves arise and loom over the gargantuan walls until they swallowed every lane, every square and crushed those below. A hundred times. Their screams, the anguish of the weak are so delightful to my and our ears, don’t you think so my love?

  It is not. I wanted to scream, yet I felt annoyed by the Pale Man’s empty gaze, as his dark robes fluttered in the storm, the shadows slithering onwards with the waves, forming the valiant reinforcements as the waves fell upon the city, again and again. Until at last, silence lurked beneath the blanket of the Void. Silence that was the sweetest to the ears, not because it brought an end to this vision, but because for a meager moment I felt pleasantly drunken by their last dread before the raging sea calmed and taken back their forms into itself. Is this what true power feels like, the power that the sea worships and obeys me? It is the joy of authority. To rule all below, and for them to obey in silence.

  A beautiful whisper that shuddered my being as I remembered the face, a mingling of divine magnificence that even Maerhia could only dream of and balefulness that could only be borne in the deepest pits of Taerebus. Eyes like mine, except for the strange framing no mortal would have received from our creators, yet there was a carefulness in those lines, ones that felt like were drawn by hands of the one true and supreme being, The Almodo. We are the greatest he ever dreamt of.

  “ Who was that? Who had taken away the rejuvenating breath I sensed so long ago in the firm hands belonging to those kind, elderly eyes.

  “Here.” Came the voice, close yet I could only see the darkness, hear the waves rage below as the phosphorescent soil lengthened far into the emptiness. And the strange door that tore into this distant reality and swirled like a great maelstrom at the epicenter of the Haebrian Ocean far westwards. How I wished to see what my sister saw, the terrible marvel of nature that swallows great vessels. I breathed deeply, cleansing my thoughts as I focused on the voice beckoning.

  “Take my hand.” A pale hand reached out, wrapped in thought and vaguely draconic, yet dwarfed to theirs. And the voice I now remembered. I took Sigi’s hand hesitating at first, and upon touching, the swirling portal turned into a maw, swallowing both of us.

  *****

  Does time exist here? I wondered as I felt days, weeks or maybe even months pass in the swirling torrent, while my only companion was the strange and blurred reflection falling beyond the hazy walls of astral mist. It seems to not exist at all in the land of Oneiron, neither I felt it in the plateau which soft soil eerily caressed my soles. Yet here in this wildly winding tunnel, I felt my being once more submerged in the tides of time. It has no meaning, time slaves the feeble, we are beyond its futile attempts.

  End neared in a slowly forming hexagonal frame of the vortex, beyond its whiteness not quite like the Plateau’s shimmered onto my face, yet unlike the Illius, brought no warmth. Now I stood upon a strange white stone, gaining brilliance beneath my marbly feet. Feet not my own, as I realized how I towered as high or maybe higher than uncle Augermil or brother Albrion. And the streaks emerald and maroon sinuously stretching across the expansive chamber I found myself within turned golden and deep, bluish-purple quite akin to the favored robes father tends to wear.

  Above the ceiling loomed as high as the endless firmament looms over the earth, made from grayish stone more polished, noble than marble whilst lacking any discernible color. Almost like a pure crystal filled not yet with the unseen mana particles constituting our reality, yet more opaque as one. And from it, stalagmites hung, and strangely I could see with perfect clarity as some liquid dribbled down from their refined tips, the violet in its primary hue, within it, tendrils of brilliant golden tendrils writhed, dry and almost sand like. Not a single arrived though to the floor or upon my vessel, halfway through they burst into a contesting mist, spreading and vanishing within seconds.

  Towards my right, a wall as gargantuan as of famed Thrauy’s stretched bereft of any ornamentations, nor of artistic depictions of past, present or I dare say future. The one peculiar thing they possessed was their nature to scurry away as I tried approaching them, looking for a door or window to peek what lay beyond. With their retreat, the chamber itself expanded, though only the outskirts of it, whilst the pillars circling the center, sprouting from the trims of the domed center remained numbering seven. He was right, truly a marvel created by the Conductor and the Architect.

  As I approached them, I noticed a slithering ornamentation upon the pillars molding itself into new forms, and on either side saw my own form reflected masterfully by the amorphous ornamentation, now appearing solid, incorporating the sheen, the smoothness of both metal and marble. And it was quite lifelike, my hair flown long and in its vivid red shades, my scales appeared bearing their prismatic luminosity and mélange, clad in flowing folds of red and blue silken.

  Not far beyond the pillars, an aperture yawned beneath the sunken upwards ceiling, pitch blackness reigned nearly utmost, except myriads of hues shone through the deepening darkness.

  Along its black walls, stones shaped like chrysalises nestled into the outer layers, each a different tinge–gold as the light of dawn, white as the snow, black as the starless night, blue as the enigmatic seas and thousands of others, some the mingling of these shades. And each hummed a strange song, shook as the walls and ground trembled upon the arrival of another. One who felt familiar, yet distant like great Aenessarion, my great-grandfather and the first Elhyrissiar.

  Turning around, the floor gained a citrine yellow hue with the sinuous veins shifting to cherry and maroon reds, the ceiling gained the shade of pink strawberries and roses, whilst the stalagmites gleamed and dribbled plum purples and magentas. A bright streak cleaved itself upon the space, and from beyond its luminous space a dragon with long, snouted-head of striking feline features stepped forth. Four nimble limbs sprouted and held the massive and long form of scales, possessing a mercurial smoothness and silken opulence, whilst the shades which now predominantly enveloped the chamber shifted along the dragon’s whole body bereft of the crystalline like horns and claws and the lush mane of a prismatic mélange like my own and my father’s.

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  The ancient sire of Calaviril and her siblings, The Lustrous Empress, the divine pet of Maerhia, our magnificent mother. From her muzzle, came a sound close to bellowing yet, it was not as primitive as of the beasts, strange words formed and traversed the air between us. Sister, a pleasant surprise. I believed you were occupied with Acheryoth.

  Fear followed my heart as she stretched out her segmented wings, casting long shadows over my own tall vessels and spreading fragranced winds. Drowsing calm came sprinkled with vague perception of the intelligence ridden bellows. I felt morose for the words uttered not by myself, blurred memories of folk resembling my own people, though not wholly like us. Small differences, like their subtler features, round, almost bulging eyes, teeth with subtle outlines, fingers and toes numbering seven on one hand and foot, ten or thirteen on the others. The singular resemblance I could be sure of was the zeal and pride in their eyes. Were we the first elevated by the Deossos? I relent Sister. The night is yours, but one day He shall grow bored of you and your prudence.

  Her four eyes of polished gemstones carven into the mixture of feline and reptile irises held the conviction of a victor, and for a moment the sound she released from her opened out jaws give the impression merriness. Though it faded swiftly as I grew aware of another presence, meager fading the pleasant aromas of hers.

  Another sound came from our right, a lulling not greater in volume than a whisper. We turned in unison, glared at the mocking smile stretching for kilometers upon the titanic head of pallid flesh, angular and thin as each bone upon the grim visage protruded forth. His body stretched upon the citrine yellow floor for hundreds of kilometers, slim almost desiccated as of the dead’s, draped scantily in a smooth, purplish-black fabric crossed across his hip with a loin cloth flowing down his slim thighs, and a similar robe lengthened across his body unwrapped. His hands prone, reached towards us, black silvery bracelets on each of them, their centers beset with diamonds holding portentous blackness similar to those encrusting the deeply sunken eyes, half-closed.

  His eyes focused on me, eyes of a dark ocean speckled with ominously shimmering stars, reflecting the strong appetite to rest which will come not for the dreamless. A feeling which seemed infectious as I found standing challenging, difficult. I hate those lipless grins, those sleepless eyes.

  When the lulling hush ceased, I noticed his forefinger descend upon the citrine marble. Each were without a nail, and wisps of shadowy tendrils arose from them. And once more, a vague perception followed the silence, I felt a mild hatred towards the Titan whom I realized to be the Keeper of Nightmares and Omens. Though no intent for mocking laid within the sound he made, but the doom skirted along the tunes begetting fear which bloomed into hatred.

  Above it, the air whirled, distorted into itself as a Sphinx sauntered through it on all four of its legs whilst its two peculiar arms stretched beneath its long, almost swan like neck ridged like a dragon’s. Both appeared almost human like, covered in scaled epidermis, fingers long and gaunt, ending in claws of shifting shades.

  When more of it appeared within the chamber, realization dawned upon me, as it was no dragon, but the fabled, enigmatic pet of Septurrion, the Augur of Dreams. A phantasmal dragon of flowing flesh, waves of iris, wisteria purple, regal blues of lapis lazuli akin to the walls of our southern palaces, portentous greens of malachite and the deepest blacks trailed from his faceless head across the long and tapering body. Four segmented wings folded along, a long swan neck protruded from the front, ending in the visage of a smooth, reflective oblique lens, adorned with a headdress of the royal pharaohs who once ruled the Colored Deserts. As he approached the three of us, slits appeared along the mirror surface, glowing eyes stared at all of us.

  A sound of the whispering wind sweeping through grass permeated the whole chamber, carrying a divinely eloquent greeting. I was quite uncertain whether he sensed me, whether I treaded in his and his master’s domain. I prayed not whilst feeling joyous being the first mortal possibly standing where ancient beings stood united in a time when mortals treaded land, sea and sky still in their primitive forms. He who dreamt first, always arrived at nearly last.

  And he who came first, the greatest of all us, heralds the end, comes at last.

  A moment fleeting as most, taken by a pervading chill, the floor, the ceiling all changing into deep black, blues and violets, and at once. Oneithrian’s lens like visage gained a thousand more eyes, staring not far from us, whilst the Lustrous Empress emanated a gravelly purr, grinned wildly. I watched whilst tremors quaked through my whole being, no hair covered my body, but I felt as if all stood erect when my gaze moved onto the gathering blackness, the shadow within the shadow taking slowly the shape of the mightiest within the room, a dragon towering over his sibling and mate, and the Titan too.

  “It is not time yet.” I heard Sigi and as he wrapped one hand about my wrists, the scenery exploded into a colorful primordial storm where streaks writhed like tentacles lashing out from the lighter, turbulent waves whilst my body experienced the thrill and twinge of weightlessness.

  ******

  I landed with no sound accompanying the impact, as for a long while there was nothing around me. Time marched relentlessly, with the velocity of Celetriabel – the hasty Messenger of the Deossos. Earth amassed beneath my feet, risen from the blackness like the bulbous backs of great whales, then followed the legions of grass growing, nurturing, fading, decaying in the matter of seconds – at least it felt like eons passed in seconds. In the blink of an eye, they rose and withered like the civilizations whom settled, sprawled and were devoured by the fangs of oblivion. He had whispered in our stirred dreams – all things must come to an end.

  Children rushed passed me, dashed across their lives as they grew then hunched, then fell into the earth, to be swallowed and occasionally raised at the behest of figures draped in colorful, tattered and sometimes extravagant robes, coats and other garments. The one unifying thing in all of them were the same blackness that swirled and danced around them–like it stirred within Sigi’s eye gifted by the Solemn Mistress of the dead. There were days, weeks and years in my life when I felt contempt, trembled in disgust from the chilling presence of nekrotic matter. Now it aroused me in a queer way. First, he raised the slumbering–then he called upon the divine whose essences never knew rest.

  Walls rose around the birthing, maturing edifices and fell before and with them. Flames ignited, devoured and ceased when their hunger could no longer be satisfied. And the sky danced and laughed above as life shifted through its two primary cycles beneath in a seemingly endless loop. What meaning was there behind this dream I ask. I always knew this is the law of mortals, the law of all things decreed to fade and be replaced. Even the strong like my forefathers could not fight against this inevitability. First the great dominion in our old realm fell when they turned against my grandfather just because he knew of the coming doom. And one day our Empire shall fall, no matter how much father tries to derail us from that path. And he given us eternity, but shackled us by His myriad facets waiting for the one to be driven mad.

  Time faltered to an absolute stillness; ruined towers arose with stones blackened like the corpses who rested silently on the whitened ground. Their shadows bled and took the shape of their souls, danced and danced around themselves, with strange smiles cutting their featureless cheeks whilst their blood shot eyes glanced at the dimmed skies where what they once called the Moon hung and allowed their accursed existence to continue on. Danced and danced they did, slowly they flocked merrily towards the lone and tall figure whose once regal and black robes now draped his form in tatters. His dreams were finite – His nightmares, eternal when They peered where they shouldn’t.

  Seldom I felt fear ever, even when I faced her, The Beautiful whose mere perfect perfumed scent would twist ones’ mind to devotion, whose gaze beckoned one’s heart and mind to love. But when he turned and our gazes met, I stared into those sunken eyes filled by the blackness of the night, lit only by the stars and the moon shining in its center–I felt a fear the plebeiir must have felt when they evoked the rage of the Elhyrissiar–or of Acheryoth. His visage resembled a grinning skull, the flesh merged with bone whilst carefully leaving the distinctiveness of frame beneath. His cheeks hollow, except for the sinewy strings coated in a nightly mucus. As his lipless mouth opened, they trembled as the melodic sound left that empty mouth. He guided them to elevation for eons–he stirred them into their last march after he listened, learned and questioned.

  The shadow flocked, danced around him and beneath the scepter. Some even slithered about its ivory shaft, to be swallowed by the gloomy sand entwining around it. His long fingers furled around as he stirred and raised the scepter, and tapped the ground gently seven times, with long intervals between each strike. Each time, a distant bell rang across this strange reality, and the jocular time of the shadows came to an end–they marched into their once feeble forms, enveloped them and arose in new forms. For eons he cared for the withering, for the reckless. For centuries, he cared for his death dealing children who carried his will and desires–to End all things doomed to be ceaseless.