WHAT LIVES BENEATH THE VEIL
Spin-Off: The Dream Eternal
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CONTENT WARNING: This series contains explicit sexual violence, human sacrifice, psychological torture, murder of innocent characters (including children and family members), ritualistic killing, and extreme horror. No character is safe. Read at your own risk.
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Prologue: The Sleeping Child
The Age of Creation – The Beginning
Before Mordred. Before Liora. Before the curse that would consume the world for centuries, there was a dream.
Not a vision.
Not a prophecy.
Not a nightmare.
A journey.
The first mortal closed its eyes.
It was tired.
It had walked all day.
It had hunted all day.
It had lived all day.
Now, it needed to rest.
It lay down on the grass.
It watched the stars.
It felt the wind.
It listened to the silence.
And then, it slept.
Its mind drifted.
Its body relaxed.
Its spirit floated.
It saw things.
Not with its eyes.
With its soul.
A garden.
A beautiful garden.
Filled with flowers it had never seen.
Trees it had never climbed.
Fruits it had never tasted.
The sun was warm.
The air was sweet.
The silence was peaceful.
It walked through the garden.
It touched the flowers.
They did not wilt.
It climbed the trees.
They did not break.
It ate the fruits.
They were delicious.
It laughed.
It had never laughed before.
It had never felt joy before.
But this... this was wonderful.
It stayed in the garden for hours.
For days.
For weeks.
It did not want to leave.
It did not want to wake up.
But eventually, it did.
The garden faded.
The flowers withered.
The fruits rotted.
It was back on the grass.
The stars were gone.
The sun was rising.
It sat up.
It remembered.
The garden.
The flowers.
The joy.
It wept.
Not tears of sorrow.
Tears of longing.
It was the first dream.
Not the last.
Never the last.
The watcher watched.
It saw the mortal sleep.
It saw the dream form.
It saw the hope bloom.
"Hello, first dream," the watcher whispered.
"I am the watcher.
I have been watching you.
I will continue to watch you.
I will watch you inspire.
I will watch you terrify.
I will watch you hope.
Because you are worth it.
You are worth everything."
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Chapter One: The First Telling
The Age of Creation – The Sharing
The mortal told others about its dream.
It did not have words.
It used sounds.
It used gestures.
It used feelings.
It showed them the garden.
The flowers.
The trees.
The fruits.
It showed them the joy.
The peace.
The hope.
They listened.
They learned.
They remembered.
They told their children.
Their children told their grandchildren.
Their grandchildren told their great-grandchildren.
The dream spread.
It grew.
It changed.
It became a story.
A legend.
A hope.
They called it the First Garden.
The Beginning.
The Peace.
The Dream.
The watcher watched.
It saw the story spread.
It saw the dream grow.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have done something beautiful," the watcher said.
"Something rare."
"Something hopeful."
"The story will never die."
"It will inspire generations."
"It will teach the future."
"It will save souls."
"Because of you."
"Because of your dream."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the first dream said.
"I am just a vision."
"I just wanted to be shared."
"To be felt."
"To be loved.*
"The story is my hope."
"The story is my love.*
"The story is my everything.*
The watcher smiled.
"Then the story will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Two: The First Nightmare
The Age of Darkness – The Fear
A dreamer had a nightmare.
Not a garden.
A wasteland.
The flowers were dead.
The trees were burned.
The fruits were rotten.
The sun was gone.
The air was cold.
The silence was terrifying.
Creatures lurked in the shadows.
Eyes.
Teeth.
Hunger.
They chased the dreamer.
Through the wasteland.
Through the darkness.
Through the fear.
The dreamer woke screaming.
It had never been so afraid.
It had never felt anything like this.
This was terror.
This was panic.
This was despair.
It tried to forget the nightmare.
To ignore it.
To bury it.
But it could not.
The nightmare returned.
Night after night.
Week after week.
Month after month.
The dreamer stopped sleeping.
It could not face the nightmare.
It could not face the fear.
It could not face the darkness.
It grew tired.
It grew weak.
It grew hopeless.
The watcher watched.
It saw the dreamer suffer.
It saw the nightmare torment.
It saw the hope fade.
"You are not alone," the watcher whispered.
"I am here.
I am watching.
I am hoping.*
"You can face the nightmare."
"You can defeat it."
"You can hope again."
"You just have to believe."
"Believe in yourself."
"Believe in your strength.*
"Believe in your hope.*
"I cannot," the dreamer said.
"I am too weak."
"I am too afraid.*
"I am too alone.*
"I do not deserve to sleep."
"I do not deserve to dream."
"I do not deserve to hope.*
"You do," the watcher said.
"You deserve everything."
"Because you are worth it."
"You are worth everything."
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Chapter Three: The First Conquering
The Age of Magic – The Triumph
A dreamer learned to face its nightmares.
Not alone.
With help.
A friend held its hand.
"I am here," the friend said.
"You are not alone."
"I will stay with you."
"I will protect you."
"I will love you."
The dreamer closed its eyes.
It slept.
It dreamed.
The nightmare returned.
The wasteland.
The darkness.
The creatures.
But this time, the dreamer was not alone.
Its friend was there.
Standing beside it.
Holding its hand.
Facing the fear.
Together, they walked through the wasteland.
They faced the creatures.
They defeated the darkness.
They found the garden.
Buried beneath the ashes.
Hidden beneath the fear.
Waiting to be reborn.
They woke together.
Crying.
Not tears of sorrow.
Tears of joy.
They had won.
They had defeated the nightmare.
They had saved the dream.
They had hoped.
The watcher watched.
It saw the dreamers triumph.
It saw the nightmare fade.
It saw the hope return.
"You have done something miraculous," the watcher said.
"Something impossible."
"Something hopeful."
"You have faced your fear."
"You have defeated your nightmare."
"You have saved your dream."
"Because of you."
"Because of your courage."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the dreamer said.
"I just had a friend."
"I just trusted."
"I just hoped.*
"The friend was my hope."
"The friend was my love.*
"The friend was my everything.*
The watcher smiled.
"Then the friend will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Four: The First Vision
The Age of Magic – The Prophecy
A dreamer had a vision.
Not a garden.
Not a nightmare.
A prophecy.
It saw the future.
A child.
A young girl with tea-colored eyes and a white dress.
She would become a monster.
A queen.
A god.
She would consume souls.
She would feed on fear.
She would spread darkness.
But she would also be saved.
By love.
By hope.
By forgiveness.
The dreamer woke.
It was shaking.
It was afraid.
It was hopeful.
It told others about the vision.
They listened.
They believed.
They prepared.
They told their children.
Their children told their grandchildren.
Their grandchildren told their great-grandchildren.
The prophecy spread.
It grew.
It changed.
It became a legend.
A warning.
A hope.
The watcher watched.
It saw the prophecy spread.
It saw the dream guide.
It saw the hope bloom.
"You have done something sacred," the watcher said.
"Something rare."
"Something hopeful."
"The prophecy will prepare the world."
"It will warn the innocent."
"It will guide the heroes."
"It will save the lost."
"Because of you."
"Because of your vision."
"Because of your hope.*
"I am not special," the dreamer said.
"I just saw."
"I just shared."
"I just hoped.*
"The prophecy is my hope."
"The prophecy is my love.*
"The prophecy is my everything.*
The watcher nodded.
"Then the prophecy will never be forgotten."
"Because of you."
"Because of your choice."
"Because of your love."
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Chapter Five: The First Dream's End
The Age of Redemption – The Passing
The first dream did not die.
It could not.
It was part of the world now.
Part of sleep.
Part of vision.
Part of hope.
It lived on in every dream of a child.
In every nightmare conquered.
In every prophecy fulfilled.
The watcher watched.
It saw the dreams spread.
It saw them heal.
It saw them inspire.
"The first dream is not gone," the watcher whispered.
"It has become.
It has transformed.
It has evolved.
It is now part of every sleeping mind.
Every vision.
Every hope.
It will never fade.
It will never be forgotten.
It will never die.
Because it is part of the cycle.
Part of everything.
Part of hope.*
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Epilogue: The Legacy
The Ages – The Memory
The first dream's story was told for generations.
Parents told their children before bed.
Healers told their patients.
Seers told their students.
It was the first dream.
The beginning.
The vision.
The hope.
It inspired others.
To dream.
To face their nightmares.
To hope.
It also taught them.
That dreams are not useless.
That nightmares can be conquered.
That hope is eternal.
Many followed its path.
Some succeeded.
Some failed.
Some forgot.
But they all tried.
And the watcher watched.
Always watching.
Always waiting.
Always hoping.
That one day, a dream would succeed.
That one day, a dream would break the cycle.
That one day, a dream would fill the emptiness.
And when that day came, it would be ready.
It would watch.
It would wait.
It would hope.
Because they would be worth it.
They would be worth everything.
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THE END
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THE COMPLETE SPIN-OFF: THE DREAM ETERNAL