The below burned in its eternal red darkness.
Ellas, once the golden ether, now the Fallen King, walked the endless obsidian paths with effortless authority. Black fire curled at his heels, and the jagged spires overhead bent away in fear of him. Unlike the chained Scourge, Ellas was free to roam the depths of the Below every step a reminder of the Elder's curse that trapped him here.
He could not leave this realm.
But he could command it.
And through the Pact, his influence stretched far beyond these burning caverns.
Today, he felt the traitor calling.
The traitor stood beneath Aramoor in a chamber of shadow-stone. Five hundred corrupted dream-born knelt around him. His form flickered an unstable fusion of dream essence and Fallen corruption, a being half-shaped, half-undone.
Above him, cracks in reality pulsed with growing strength.
Ellas's spectral form appeared within the rift: tall, terrible, crowned in black flame. His presence was a weight that pressed against every surface of the chamber.
The traitor bowed deeply.
"Fallen King. I bring urgent news."
Ellas's eyes glowed like molten gold swallowed by shadow.
"Speak."
"Dream has moved," the traitor said. "He has mobilised a large force, two thousand dream-born under Seros."
Ellas's smile sharpened.
"So the silent sovereign finally stirs."
The traitor continued:
"He has sent a Nightmare after me one of his hunters."
Ellas laughed softly.
"Fear is a beautiful motivator, isn't it?"
"And…" the traitor's voice trembled, "…Dream has taken a boy. A mortal child. I sensed dream-mark on him. Hidden. Protected."
Ellas's eyes narrowed.
"A mortal? Dream trains mortals now? For what purpose?"
"I don't know," the traitor said quickly. "But I sense importance around the boy. Something hidden from me."
Ellas leaned forward, voice cold.
"That boy may become a threat. Or a key."
The traitor bowed.
"What do you command?"
Ellas answered softly:
"Begin Step Two."
The traitor stiffened.
"At once."
Ellas raised his hand.
"I will send you reinforcements one thousand demons."
The traitor gasped.
"A thousand… here?"
Ellas nodded.
"Not to protect you. To destroy the city.To tear the dream boundary.To force Dream's hand."
The traitor bowed, trembling with dark excitement.
"As you command, Fallen King."
Ellas severed the connection.
The rift closed.
And the Below trembled.
Ellas walked deeper into the Underrealm.
The path led to a cathedral carved from shadowstone a place older than Vvralis itself. This was the Temple of the Scourge.
He stopped before the colossal obsidian gate.
It pulsed with the Elder's mark. The chains engraved on its surface shimmered with cosmic authority.
Ellas placed his palm upon the gate.
Black lightning surged.
The gate slid open.
Inside, the temple was silent but alive with oppressive power. Pillars rose like the ribs of a titan. Torches burned blue beneath the weight of ancient hatred. The floor cracked under each step, unable to bear the presence of the beings within.
At the centre of the temple
chained to the ground, to the walls, to the very bones of the Below
was the Scourge.
His arms were spread, wrists anchored to the stone by glowing runes. His wings were hooked and stretched, bound by chains forged by the Elder's own decree. His legs were locked beneath heavy shackles, leaving him kneeling yet upright, unable to stand.
But his eyes
burned like twin suns of wrath.
Ellas approached.
The Scourge lifted his head, chains rattling.
"Ellas," he said, voice deep as volcanic stone. "You rarely visit."
Ellas smirked.
"I bring news. Our plan advances. Dream moves."
The Scourge laughed, a cold echo.
"The soft sovereign finally awake?"
Ellas nodded.
"He sends a Nightmare to hunt our traitor. He mobilises an army of two thousand. And"
Ellas leaned closer.
"He has begun training a mortal."
The Scourge's brow arched.
"A mortal? Does Dream train a mortal now? His hesitation cracks."
Ellas's smile widened.
"He is afraid."
The Scourge tugged against his chains, the sound shaking the temple.
"Good. Fear makes him sloppy. Fear makes him reckless."
Ellas circled him slowly.
"We begin Step Two. The traitor will tear the boundary between dream and waking. I send him one thousand demons to aid the corruption."
The Scourge grinned, fangs glinting.
"You are generous."
"I am strategic," Ellas corrected. "We must overwhelm the dream realm before Seros marshals her two thousand."
The Scourge's wings strained, metal groaning.
"And what of Step Three?"
Ellas smirked.
"We prepare it. Quietly. Not even the traitor must know."
The Scourge lowered his head.
"And Dream…?"
Ellas smiled.
"He will chase the mortal. He will chase his Nightmare. He will chase the corruption. And in that chaos…"
Ellas stepped closer, voice whispering like death.
"…we will strike him where he is weakest."
The Scourge nodded slowly, cold satisfaction glinting in his burning eyes.
"Good. Then tell the traitor: Step Two begins."
Ellas turned.
"It already has."
And the Fallen King left the temple of chains behind, each step echoing like war drums.
Meanwhile…
far above in Aramoor…
Dream sat with Erias, eating bread and fruit, while Aelus warned of priests searching for them.
But Dream felt it.
In the threads of the city.In the corners of the dream boundary.In the trembling of the waking streets.
A tear had begun to form.
A tear caused by demons.
A tear fueled by the traitor.
A tear Ellas had planned.
The war of dreams had begun.