PROLOGUE
I am the Watcher of Dreams —
the one who has wandered since time immemorial through the realm of slumber,
where all dreams of every living soul converge.
In this boundless world, I reign in silence,
delighting in the fleeting stories and visions offered by mortal minds —
each dream a jewel of light shimmering for but an instant before fading away.
At the heart of the infinite universe,
a blue pearl dances upon the dark velvet of the cosmos.
A planet of rare beauty —
a living masterpiece suspended among the stars.
Its landscapes are poems carved into the flesh of the world:
— forests whispering their ancient secrets,
— canyons painted by the hand of time,
— mountains defying the heavens,
— oceans glimmering where sunlight dances on the waves.
Each desert is a canvas of sand and wind;
each meadow, a sea of flowers breathing beneath the sky's gentle sigh.
This planet — the one you call Earth —
is a hymn to diversity,
a work of art forever changing, forever alive.
Then came a fragile species —
weak in body, yet vast in its dreams.
The first humans walked as nomads, guided by hunger and fear,
but already their eyes were drawn upward,
fascinated by the stars that pierced the night.
In those distant lights, their first dreams were born.
With time, humanity rose higher.
It forged civilizations and empires,
stretching its ambitions beyond survival.
It conquered the skies,
forged wings of steel to fly,
and built vessels to pierce the heavens and touch the stars themselves.
Its dreams became conquest —
exploration —
a promise of infinity.
Yet now I watch the decay of that same civilization.
Their once-pure dreams have been tainted by greed.
The Earth is weary — oceans suffocate, forests fall,
the air grows thick with smoke.
Division and hatred have taken root in human hearts.
Solidarity has withered, replaced by apathy and selfishness.
The poem of humankind has been torn into discordant fragments.
And still… a faint light remains.
A few souls continue to guard it —
those who refuse to yield to despair.
They carry within them a fragile yet indomitable flame,
believing in the possibility of rebirth,
in a future where humanity and dreams may once again walk side by side.
I, the Watcher, can guide these souls.
I can scatter sparks of light within their sleep,
remind them of lost beauty,
and breathe hope once more into their weary hearts.
For as long as a single ember endures,
decadence can give way to renewal.
And perhaps —
within the destiny of one man —
the poetry of a new world shall be written.