Time since the asteroid hit Earth: ~4.9 billion years (subjective to Aryan)
Aryan Ved floated within the quantum scaffolding of his new law:
`DREAMS ARE PERMITTED.`
Not illusions. Not programs.
But authentic dream-state mechanics embedded into neurological potential across evolving species.
> "Why?" Light God asked, sipping stardust soda from a spiral straw.
> "Because dreams inspire hope… and fear," Aryan said. "Both are catalysts for change."
He coded the framework gently. Each dream thread would not be forced, but would **emerge organically** through neural chaos — forming spontaneous inner worlds.
At first, it was beautiful.
Primitive species began painting with crushed minerals, building temples shaped like stars they'd never seen.
Some drew companions with extra arms or wings — beings they'd only met *while asleep*.
Civilizations began documenting shared dream symbols.
A **mythic lexicon** formed across galaxies… unknowingly synchronized.
> "It's like they're all sharing one invisible story," Aryan said.
> "Ooh, a cosmic fanfic," Light God joked. "Who's the protagonist?"
> "Emotion," Aryan answered. "Each species interprets it differently. But the narrative spine is universal — 'We are not alone.'"
Then… the dreams began to **converge**.
Across hundreds of planets, creatures began dreaming of the *same place*.
A spiraling black-and-gold corridor.
A whispering voice that said only one word:
> "Z."
> "No no no," Light God muttered, tossing his soda into a miniature sun. "You invited dreams, not interdimensional nightmares."
> "This shouldn't be possible," Aryan said, scanning the dreamfields. "Dreams aren't supposed to be networked."
But the spiral corridor kept appearing.
To sleeping insects.
To aquatic philosophers.
To digital sentience nodes that shouldn't even *sleep*.
All dreaming of the same location. The same **whisper**.
And worse — some beings never *woke up*.
They remained frozen in dream-state.
Alive. Breathing. But unresponsive.
Dreaming endlessly… of **completion**.
> "It's a dream virus," Aryan said grimly. "A plague of stillness."
> "And guess who's patient zero?" Light God muttered, pointing to Aryan's heart.
There, buried beneath divine code and quantum armor, was a *trace memory* of that first Earth night. The regret. The question. The need for an answer.
It had **amplified** into the dreamcode — and created a backdoor.
Something had entered through it.
> "Z found a way in," Aryan whispered.
> "Through dreams?" Light God said. "Well, Freud would be impressed."
Aryan took a breath. Then reached out across all dream-fields.
He embedded a new law:
`EVERY DREAM MUST CONTAIN A DOOR.`
A way out. A flaw. An escape.
> "You sure about this?" Light God asked.
> "Dreams must not trap," Aryan said. "Or they become prisons."
With that, many species awoke — gasping. Confused. But **free**.
The spiral corridor faded.
The word "Z" vanished like mist.
And across the stars, beings looked to the sky once more — and painted new dreams with cracks.
Aryan stood in silence.
> "You alright?" Light God asked.
> "Yes," Aryan replied. "But next time, I won't leave the backdoor unlocked."
> "Fair," Light God said. "Still… you gotta admit — dream horror was a great mid-season twist."
Aryan smiled faintly.
> "On to the next law."
— End of Chapter 17