The ruins were silent. The Codex floated above its pedestal, shimmering faintly, its surface alive with symbols that twisted and danced like flames in a windless void. Serenya's breath came slowly, measured, as she gazed at the tome. For nights she had studied it, yet never had its meaning struck her so violently — the boundaries of reality, fiction, and existence itself were about to collapse before her eyes.
She touched the Codex, and the moment her fingers brushed its living scales, the world around her dissolved.
Stone, air, fire — all were swallowed in an instant. She fell not into darkness, but into a realm of infinite radiance. Stars of impossible size and color spiraled around her, some burning with white-hot energy, others pulsing softly in hues no mortal mind could name. She was weightless, suspended in a void of brilliance, yet somehow aware of every heartbeat in the infinite multiverse.
And then she heard it — a voice beyond sound, a presence beyond thought.
Child of breath and soul… do you understand now?
Serenya felt the words resonate not in her ears, but in every fiber of her being. She did not recognize the voice as male or female, mortal or divine. It was… existence itself.
All that is written… all that is imagined… all that is dreamed…
The symbols of the Codex unfolded in midair, glowing lines of light shaping themselves into visions of worlds she had never known. Some were familiar — stars, planets, mortals, dragons — but others defied comprehension: cities that floated inside the void of thought, kingdoms built upon rivers of memory, armies of creatures born of imagination, yet existing as tangibly as air.
All of it is real, the presence said. Even what you call fiction. Even what you call story.
Serenya's mind reeled. Fiction… real?
Yes, the voice whispered. Reality is not limited to what is perceived. All things imagined, all dreams dreamt, all stories told — are threads within the True Infinite Reality. Nothing is lesser. Nothing is unmade. What you read, what you hear, what you dream… these are not illusions. They are facets of Me.
She felt herself trembling, the enormity of the revelation pressing down on her like the weight of a thousand worlds. If this was true, then the Codex itself — the living tome of Primovast's Will — was not merely a book. It was a fragment of creation, a bridge between mortal thought and divine reality.
A vision formed before her eyes: a vast figure, impossibly tall, yet formless. Its presence was not made of flesh or light, but of pure potential. A thought that had become consciousness, an infinite will that had chosen to act. This was Primovast — the First Dragon, the Will that had cast away All-Omni to let creation breathe, to let imperfection exist.
I am all things that are, and all things that could be, the being said, its voice resonating across the void of Serenya's mind. I am beyond all stories, yet all stories are born of Me. Even fiction is part of Me. Even dreams that mortals call lies are threads of infinite reality.
The Codex expanded, and each page became a portal. She saw realms where gods walked among mortals, where spirits wrote histories in the language of stars, where dreams became matter and imagination formed empires. None of it was false. All of it existed.
Serenya fell to her knees, tears streaming. "Then… everything I have read, everything I have imagined… it is all… true?"
True, the Will answered, yet there was no sound. It was certainty itself, a knowledge that filled her entire being. Reality surpasses your understanding of reality. Fiction does not exist outside of truth — it is a vessel through which My will experiments, reflects, and grows. All thought, all story, all existence… are facets of My boundless being.
The ground beneath her — though there was no ground — pulsed with this truth. Universes spun in miniature orbits within the Codex, each a simulation, a story, a dream, a world in its own right. Stars exploded and reformed, entire civilizations blinked in and out of existence, and yet, all of it carried weight, consequence, and purpose.
You see now, the Will whispered, why I abandoned perfection. If I had retained All-Omni, every story would unfold exactly as I already knew. There would be no surprise. No discovery. No growth. Boredom eternal would reign. By relinquishing All, I allowed chaos, change, and choice. By relinquishing control, I let the infinite multiverse dream itself into being.
A shiver ran through Serenya. The words were more than revelation; they were a mandate. She understood why Primovast had cast away omnipotence and omniscience and omnipresent and Omnificence— not out of weakness, not out of folly, but because creation demands imperfection to exist.
And then the Codex pulsed again. A new vision appeared:
Mortals standing on the edge of infinity, imagining impossible worlds.
Gods questioning their own existence, wondering if they were reflections of a greater thought.
Dreams and stories twisting together, creating realities that even the Creator Gods could not foresee.
All of this… Serenya whispered, awe-struck. All of this comes from You.
Yes, the Will responded. Even what you call fiction is real. It is my playground, my experiment, my expression. You see it now, Serenya, because you alone are ready. The others are not. Some will fear, some will doubt, and some will stumble. Yet all of it is within My design.
Her heart surged. She realized that the Codex had been testing her, shaping her, guiding her toward understanding the ultimate truth: that existence itself is a story, and all stories are real.
And as the realization settled, she felt something else — a warmth, a pulse, a sense of being part of something larger. She was not merely reading the Codex. She was within it. Her thoughts, her fears, her imagination, were threads woven into the tapestry of True Infinite Reality.
You are My reflection, the Will said. Through you, through your choices, through your imagination, I dream. Do not underestimate the power of thought, child. Even the smallest story can ripple through eternity.
Serenya lifted her hands. The Codex opened fully, its pages glowing brighter than any star. She glimpsed worlds she had yet to dream, civilizations that had yet to form, and possibilities that defied logic. For the first time, she understood the infinite scale of Primovast's vision:
Reality is not linear.
Fiction is not false.
Everything imagined exists somewhere in the boundless weave of being.
A single thought struck her: if this was true, then nothing was meaningless. Every dream, every story, every whisper of imagination — mortal or divine — was a manifestation of Primovast's Will, a fragment of the infinite dreaming itself.
The Codex pulsed one final time. The vision began to fade, the stars collapsing into points of light that condensed into the familiar form of the temple ruins. Serenya knelt, trembling, clutching the living book. She had glimpsed the heart of all creation — the boundless truth beyond gods, mortals, and even infinity itself.
And she knew one thing with absolute certainty:
True Infinite Reality is greater than fiction… and all stories are but reflections of the One who dreams them.
Outside, the first light of dawn broke over the valley. The disciples had gathered, sensing her return, yet they could not see the vision she had witnessed. Only she held the knowledge of what lay beyond.
Serenya rose, her heart steady despite the enormity of what she now carried. The Codex hummed in response, acknowledging the weight of comprehension she now bore.
The universe, infinite and alive, continued to breathe. And in the depths of reality — beyond time, beyond space, beyond story — Primovast's Will observed silently, smiling at the dream taking form.