Chapter 1: The Dream That Should Not Exist
The nameless monarch, hero of the state, woke from his sleep.
There was no anger on his face. No fear. Only confusion.
Every time he slept, it was the same. He saw something that did not belong to his world. Something that did not threaten him, yet unsettled him more deeply than war or rebellion ever could. He was a man who could solve problems that took scholars centuries, a ruler whose mind shaped nations. Nothing within his empire lay beyond his understanding.
Except this.
He reached for the token resting beside his bed—ancient, cold, untouched by time. With it, he called the Goddess of Dreams.
When she appeared, his voice was controlled, restrained.
"What tricks are you playing on me?" he asked. "Why do I keep seeing these dreams?"
The Goddess of Dreams looked at him quietly before answering.
"Nameless monarch," she said, "you bear the blessing of the Goddess of Sleep."
He frowned.
"When the Goddess of Sleep blesses someone," she continued, "I do not come to them. I do not grant them dreams. Their rest is empty. Silent."
She met his eyes.
"So the dreams you are seeing are not mine."
Silence filled the chamber.
"Then tell me," she said at last, "what dreams are you getting?"
The monarch inhaled slowly.
"The dreams I see are—" He stopped.
Then, without irritation, without accusation, he said, "You already know what they are. You know what they look like."
For the first time in his life, the nameless monarch did not understand something.
And that frightened him more than any enemy ever had.
Bye bye