Night settled over Vvralis, but Erias did not sleep like a mortal.
Not truly.
The moment his eyes closed, he crossed the veil and entered Dream's realm. Not through portals or invocation but naturally, instinctively, as though the realm itself bent to receive him.
It was a quiet night in the Sanctuary of Torvas, but his mind stepped into a land of shifting skies and endless fields of mist. Towers made of starlight rose far in the distance. Rivers of shimmering memory wound through the dreamscape. And at the centre of it all, beneath the fractured constellations
Seros waited.
She stood on a platform carved from moonstone, her silver hair glowing softly, her eyes alert but warm.
"You're learning quickly," Seros said the moment Erias formed beside her.
Erias didn't answer. He simply tightened his grip on his dream-forged practice blade, dipped his head, and prepared for instruction.
Seros smiled faintly.
"You remind me of Dream," she said. "Always rushing into improvement. Never caring about limits."
Seros stepped forward.
" Now show me your stance."
Erias obeyed. His footing was stronger than before. His posture firmer. His breath controlled. Seros circled him, analysing every angle.
"Good," she said. "Better. Each time you return, you come sharper."
Erias allowed himself a small smile.
But Seros's tone shifted.
"Tell me something, Erias."She crossed her arms."Do you know what mortals call a divine blessing?"
The question hit him unexpectedly.
"Divine… blessing?" Erias repeated.
"Yes. A gift of power granted by a god."
Her eyes softened.
"You've seen one already."
Erias blinked. Then remembered
Kaelar.The Blade of Torvas.The moment fire erupted across his sword white, pure, burning like judgment itself.
Erias had been stunned, awed, frightened.
Seros saw the recognition in his expression.
"Some divine blessings are born from devotion," she explained. "Others from virtue. Others from fate."She paused. "And sometimes from tragedy."
Erias swallowed.
"How do I get one?" he asked.
The question was small, but it carried weight.
Seros studied him carefully.
"To earn a divine blessing, you must either be chosen by a god…"She traced a glowing line in the air"…or perform deeds that align with the god you seek."
Erias's face fell slightly.
"I don't worship any god."
Seros nodded. "Then no god listens to you. No god waits to answer you. And no god will grant you a blessing."
The truth stung him.
But instead of backing down, Erias tightened his jaw, raised his sword, and resumed his training stance.
Seros's expression shifted surprised, almost proud.
"You're determined," she murmured. "Very well. Let's continue."
They trained.
Strike.Parry.Roll.Evade.Counter.
Seros corrected him constantly:
"Lower your elbow."Don't shift your weight too soon."Stop hesitating fear slows your blade."
Erias struggled, improved, failed, and improved again.
Hours passed in dream-time though only minutes in the mortal realm.
And then
The air darkened.
A presence loomed behind them, heavy and immense, carrying the chill of nightmares and the shadows between memory and fear.
Erias froze.
Because before him stood a Nightmare General.
Its form shifted constantly sometimes humanoid, sometimes nothing more than a silhouette of claws and smoke. Its voice rumbled like an avalanche in a hollow world.
And its eyes
Its eyes were endless.
The boy trembled.
Seros placed a calming hand on his shoulder.
"Do not fear," she said gently. "This is one of Dream's generals. A keeper of the Nightmare legions. He will not harm you."
Erias swallowed hard, but nodded.
The Nightmare General spoke.
"Seros," it growled. "You coddle the boy too much."
Seros bristled. "I am training him as Dream commanded."
"Training?"The Nightmare's laughter was like cracking stone."You give him soft corrections and gentle steps. He needs pressure. Pain. Reality. If the boy wishes to grow strong, he must learn from nightmares, not dreams."
Erias stiffened at the weight of the being's gaze.
The Nightmare General crouched slightly, studying him.
"You have potential," it said. "A spark I do not recognise. But potential is nothing unless ground into strength."
Seros stepped forward, placing herself between them.
"Dream assigned him to me."
"And Dream assigned him to the realm," the Nightmare countered. "Yet he enters mine through fear and purpose. Let him choose."
The dreamscape stilled.
Seros turned to Erias.
"You do not have to listen to him," she said quietly. "Your training is progressing well."
The Nightmare General rumbled.
"Or you can learn to survive real battle. Real power. Real darkness."
Erias looked between them
Seros, gentle but fierce in her guidance.The Nightmare, terrifying but promising ruthless strength.
His heart pounded.
"I…"He gripped his dream-sword."…want to get stronger."
Both beings watched him closely.
"But I don't want to become like demons," Erias continued. "Or shadows. I want to learn to protect people."
Seros's expression softened.
The Nightmare General tilted its shifting head.
"Then learn from both," it said simply. "Dream and nightmare. Light and dark. Sword and fear. Warrior and child."
Erias hesitated.
But before he could answer
The dreamrealm shifted.
Daylight approached in the mortal world.
The dream dissolved around him.
Erias faded.
The Nightmare General's low voice echoed after him:
"Strength waits for the brave."
At sunrise, far from the Sanctuary, the five demons who pursued the High Priest set up camp in the forest. The shadows clung to the trees like hungry spirits as they gathered around a makeshift fire that gave off no light.
They planned.
"The Sanctuary walls are thick," the leader muttered. "Their warriors trained. A direct assault fails."
"We need subtlety," another growled.
A third demon nodded. "We strike from within."
The smallest demon stepped forward.
He was wiry, hunched, with eyes like flickering coals.
"I can enter," he rasped. "No gate will stop me."
The leader grinned.
"The shapeshifter speaks."
The small demon bowed with exaggerated flourish.
"I can mimic any mortal, any priest, any knight. Let me slip in. Let me find the High Priest. I will bring him to you."
The others murmured approval.
The leader's grin widened.
"Do it."
The shapeshifter bowed again, then dissolved into tendrils of smoke reforming as a young priest with clean robes and innocent features.
"Perfect," the leader hissed.
Then they began to march.
The forest bent around their presence. Animals fled. The air grew foul. And destiny tightened like a noose around Vvralis.
Far away, in his realm of shifting dreams, Dream stood upon the highest balcony of the Argent Citadel.
I watched him closely.
His mortal disguise lay far behind him now. Here, he appeared in his true form:
Tall.Luminous.A swirling nebula of memory and power shaped like a god.Eyes deeper than eternity.Hair woven from starlight and shadow.
He extended a hand over the dreamscape.
The corruption left behind by the traitor had wounded this realm, fractured the rivers of memory, weakened the sky, and made the borders leak nightmares onto Vvralis.
So Dream set to work repairing the damage.
His power swept across the realm.
Cracks sealed. Edges reformed. Rifts tightened shut. Nightmares roared in distant corridors as the restoration forced them back into their rightful paths.
But the work was slow, draining, and painful.
Every wound the traitor inflicted was not just a wound on the realm but on Dream himself.
He paused, holding his chest as a spasm of pain flickered through him.
Then
Something tugged at him.
A summoning.
The air twisted.
A familiar voice slithered into the air like poisoned silk.
"Dream… my dear brother…"
Despair.
Born from Night.Shadow of hopelessness.Twin of Evil.The one even Dream hesitated to confront.
Dream closed his eyes.
"No."
The voice hissed."Come to me."Answer."
Dream clenched his teeth.
"I do not answer your summons," he said softly.
"Then I shall"
Dream raised his hand.
And severed the connection.
Despair's voice vanished like a candle blown out in the wind.
Silence returned.
Dream exhaled slowly.
Pain in his chest. Fear in his heart for Erias. Rage simmering beneath his calm.
And beneath everything
A vow.
"This ends soon," he whispered.
Back in the mortal realm, Erias awoke with a sharp breath.
Sweat on his brow.Heart thudding. Mind filled with both light and nightmare.
He did not yet know the weight of the path he had chosen.
But I did.
He was no longer simply a boy lost in a cruel world.
He stood at the crossroads of dream and darkness.
And the war that approached
would shape him into something even the gods would one day fear.