Chapter 1: The Dreamseer’s Vision

The Twilight Sanctum

The moon hung high over the Ivory Glades, its silver light cascading through the crystalline towers of Vael'tharion, the heart of the Elven Realm. Nestled deep within its sacred groves stood the Twilight Sanctum, home of the Dreamseers, the chosen few who could walk the path between dreams and fate.

Elaris Moonsong stood before the Elder Circle, her heart pounding in her chest.

A single strand of woven silver—a necklace only given to full-fledged Dreamseers—was held before her, suspended between the fingers of Elder Sylwen Starwhisper, the High Oracle of the Sanctum.

"From this moment forward," the elder's voice was like a whisper carried by the wind, "you are no longer a seeker, but a keeper of dreams. Bear this mark with honor, child of the Moonlit Path."

Elaris bowed deeply as the elder placed the necklace around her neck.

She had earned it.

Years of training, of guiding lost souls through the Dreamways, of deciphering the whispers of the unseen, had finally led her to this moment.

She was now a Dreamseer.

The elves around her raised their hands in silent blessing, their robes glimmering like the woven starlight they carried.

But despite the honor, a strange unease coiled within her chest.

And that night, as she drifted into sleep within the sanctuary of the Dreamseers, she would come to understand why.

The Vision in the Veil

Elaris stood in an endless sea of mist, the air thick with whispers that seemed to fade before she could grasp them.

She had walked the Dreamways countless times before, but this… this was different.

The air was cold—not the gentle coolness of night, but an unnatural, suffocating chill that seeped into her very soul.

The silver mist shifted.

From within the shroud, a figure emerged.

Tall, veiled in woven strands of moonlight and shadow, her presence was both comforting and terrifying.

Elaris fell to her knees instantly, for she knew who stood before her.

Eluna, the Dreamweaver.

Goddess of visions, guardian of the Dreamways, the weaver of fate itself.

"My goddess," Elaris whispered, her voice trembling.

Eluna's glowing silver eyes met hers, filled with an urgency that sent ice into Elaris' veins.

"You have walked the path well, child of the stars. But there are truths hidden beyond the veil of dreams—truths that none must know… and yet, you must."

The mist around them darkened.

Elaris turned, gasping as the world changed.

She saw shattered lands, veiled in eternal night.

Cities that should not exist, built from whispers and shadow, their towers reaching into the abyss itself.

And at the heart of it all…

A throne of obsidian and bone.

Upon it sat a figure wreathed in darkness, his skeletal fingers gripping the arms of his throne, his hollow eyes burning with a hunger that should not be.

And though she had never seen him before, his name seared itself into her mind like a curse.

Malakar.

His voice thundered through the dream, cold and endless.

"The gods have forsaken us. But we will make them remember."

Suddenly, the shadows rushed toward her, an overwhelming tide of cold and malice.

Elaris screamed—

And woke, gasping, the silver light of the moon spilling through her window.

Her hand clutched at the dreamseer's necklace, her body trembling.

Eluna's voice still echoed in her mind.

"The Veil is thinning, child of the stars. And soon, the world will tremble."

The Awakening of Elaris Moonsong

The Twilight Sanctum stood in serene silence, deep within the heart of the Everwood. The silver leaves of the Eldertrees shimmered beneath the starlit sky, whispering softly as the winds carried echoes of forgotten songs.

Within the sacred halls of the Dreamweavers, a single candle flickered in the chamber of Elaris Moonsong.

Tonight should have been one of celebration.

She had finally ascended from apprentice to full-fledged Dreamseer, marked by the crescent-shaped pendant now resting upon her collarbone. It was a symbol of her devotion to the path of dreams—a destiny few among the elves possessed.

But as she lay upon her silken bed, exhaustion pulling at her body, a sudden cold stillness settled over the room.

The air turned heavy.

The candlelight wavered violently, then vanished, swallowed by a darkness unnatural and absolute.

And then—

The dream took her.

A vast void stretched before her, its skies neither day nor night, but something in between—an eternal twilight where shadows writhed like living things.

In the center of this endless abyss stood a throne.

It was a thing of obsidian and bone, twisted by time and adorned with carvings of forgotten sigils. And upon it sat a figure cloaked in black mist, his skeletal fingers resting upon the armrests. A crown of jagged iron adorned his brow, and his hollow eyes burned with an eerie, violet flame.

Elaris could not move.

She knew this figure. Though she had never seen him before, his name was carved into the very fabric of this nightmare.

Malakar.

Suddenly, a new presence descended into the vision. A shimmer of silver light, parting the shadows like dawn breaking upon the night.

A woman of ethereal beauty, draped in robes of flowing midnight blue, her golden eyes glowing like the stars themselves.

Eluna, the Dreamweaver.

The Goddess of Dreams.

"Child of the Moonsong," her voice was soft, yet it echoed through the abyss, distant yet near, "you have seen what lies beyond the Veil."

Elaris's breath shuddered. "What… what is he?"

Eluna's expression was unreadable, her gaze fixed upon the throne.

"A remnant of an age long buried. A curse that was never meant to wake."

Then, for the first time, the figure on the throne moved.

His hollow gaze snapped toward Elaris, and a voice, ancient and cold, slithered into her mind.

"The gods abandoned me. But I will not abandon this world."

Elaris screamed—

And then—

She woke.

The Gathering of the Dreamseers

The echoes of Malakar's voice still clung to her mind as Elaris rushed through the corridors of the Twilight Sanctum. The polished marble floors, lined with golden starlit patterns, felt colder beneath her feet than ever before.

At the heart of the temple lay the Sanctum of the Dreamweaver, a chamber where only the highest Dreamseers convened.

There, beneath an archway woven of silver vines, Elder Sylwen Starwhisper waited.

Her violet eyes held knowing. "You saw something, didn't you?"

Elaris swallowed, her throat dry. "It was a name."

She hesitated, her voice barely a whisper.

"Malakar."

The name sent a hush through the gathered Dreamseers. Even those lost in meditation turned in quiet unease.

Sylwen's brows furrowed, a troubled sigh escaping her lips.

"That name…" she murmured. "It has not been spoken in an age."

Elaris clenched her fists. "Then you know of him?"

Sylwen shook her head. "Not directly. But there are records… ancient texts. If we are to understand this vision, we must consult the archives."

Her gaze turned solemn.

"And for that, we must summon one of the Founders."

The Archives of the First Age

Deep within the Everwood, beyond the sanctum of the Dreamseers, stood the Grand Archives of the Elves—a towering structure of woven marble and living wood, where the knowledge of ages past was kept.

It was here that the Dreamseers sought answers.

And it was here that Eldrin Leafsong, one of the Five Elven Founders, resided.

An Audience with Eldrin Leafsong

The Sanctum of Leaves was a place untouched by time. Its halls were lined with glowing crystal shelves, each containing relics of history long before the First Age. Here, the echoes of the past could still be heard in the wind.

Seated upon a throne of entwined roots and golden vines, Eldrin Leafsong looked up from the tome he had been studying.

He was tall and regal, his silver hair cascading past his shoulders, his emerald robes blending with the light of the forest. His presence was calm—like the stillness before a storm.

He studied Elaris with quiet intensity.

"You bring me troubling news."

Sylwen bowed respectfully. "Master Leafsong, the Dreamseer has seen a vision."

Eldrin gestured for Elaris to speak.

She hesitated, then told him everything—the throne, the figure, the name.

Malakar.

At the mention of the name, Eldrin's once-serene expression darkened. His emerald eyes flickered with recognition—not from personal memory, but from knowledge buried in ancient texts.

"…Malakar." He whispered the name as if testing its weight. "That name… it was recorded in the Aetherian Archives."

Elaris blinked. "The Aetherians?"

Eldrin stood, moving toward a sealed bookshelf that pulsed with golden runes. With a single touch, the barrier shattered like falling stardust, revealing an ancient tome bound in celestial silver.

"This," he said, his voice low, "is the Codex of the Skyborne. Aetherian scholars recorded knowledge of the world that predates even the First Age."

He turned the pages with careful hands.

Then, he found it.

A passage, written in celestial script.

"The lost kingdom of Varethane," Eldrin read aloud, "a realm of men, wielders of magic unlike any seen before. Hidden in the farthest reaches of the south, untouched by time. Their king—Malakar the Eternal—sought dominion over death itself."

He paused, eyes narrowing at the next lines.

"…and in his pursuit of immortality, he breached the Veil."

A heavy silence filled the chamber.

Sylwen's expression turned grim. "If this is true, then the kingdom of men beyond the Veil still exists."

Elaris felt her breath catch. "And Malakar still waits."

Eldrin slowly closed the tome, his gaze sharp. "The Aetherians recorded this warning… but they did not believe the Veil would ever weaken."

He turned to them, his voice grave.

"If Malakar's influence has begun to seep into our dreams, then something has changed."

Elaris shivered, remembering the last words spoken to her in the vision.

"The gods abandoned me. But I will not abandon this world."

A storm was coming.

And Eldoria would never be the same again.