Aramoor's night had become a nightmare made flesh.
The burning markets cast long shadows across the streets, and the smoke billowed thick enough to choke the stars. Fear spread through the city like a plague fast, contagious, consuming hearts long before the flames reached their homes.
Through this ruin walked two beings who did not belong to the mortal world at all.
One was a demon massive, volcanic, ancient.
The other was something far more dangerous:
A Dream-born who had chosen betrayal.
His name had once been sung in the Dream Realm as a watchkeeper, a silent guardian of the border between realm and slumber. Born from the mists of Dream's own essence, he had held the spark of creation like all Dream-born.
But now
His form flickered with corrupted dream-light. Pale cracks of unnatural brilliance ran beneath his skin, like a broken star barely contained. Every step he took left a faint shimmer of dream-essence that dissipated into the burning air.
He was a child of Dream.
And he had turned.
The demon beside him, a towering monster named Karesh, one of Ellas's chosen generals, walked with the stride of a conqueror. Mortals fled from him in mute horror, and even the corrupted dream-born that followed kept distance from his molten shadow.
Karesh inhaled deeply, savouring the chaos.
"You move with confidence, traitor," he rumbled, lowering his horned head to regard the Dream-born. "Step Two has begun flawlessly. The Dream Realm trembles. Mortals scatter. Darkness spreads."
He chuckled.
"But tell me do you not fear Dream's wrath? You were born of him. Shaped by his realm. Dream will not ignore this devastation."
The traitor did not slow.
He lifted his chin, glowing eyes fixed forward.
"Dream cannot touch me here," he said softly. "Not while thousands of humans dream around us. Not while fear fills the city. Mortals are delicate things. Dream fears shattering what they cling to."
Karesh snorted, amused.
"You rely on his mercy."
"And on his hesitation," the traitor replied. "Dream holds influence over realms. Over sleep. Over prophecy. But here here he must choose his moves carefully."
He turned the corner into the temple district.
"And that is why we will win."
Karesh's grin widened.
The two reached the massive statue of Torvas, the god of fire, justice, and judgment. The stone figure towered over the plaza, cracked from earlier tremors.
Karesh tilted his head.
"I've always found this god irritating," he snarled.
He raised his arm.
Without warning, he smashed his claws into the statue's chest.
Stone exploded outward. The impact echoed through the streets. The upper half of Torvas toppled backwards, hitting the ground with a quake that knocked mortals off their feet.
Screams erupted around them.
Karesh stepped over the rubble.
"Better."
The traitor merely smiled faintly. He walked through the debris as though it were mist.
Inside the temple of Torvas, pillars lay scattered like the bones of a giant. The air smelled of burning oil and spilt blood. Dead priests lay in clusters, fallen while defending their god's shrine.
The traitor stepped into the main hall and looked up at the great inner statue a flawless depiction of Torvas holding the scales of divine justice.
His glow intensified.
"This symbol… dies tonight."
He raised both hands.
Dream-energy surged from his fingertips tainted now by Ellas's corruption. The golden-blue essence of dreams turned sickly pale, radiating like a decaying star.
A single pulse tore through the hall.
The statue burst apart.
Marble shards rained like hail. The scales of justice shattered on impact, scattering across the temple floor.
Karesh laughed.
"You take pleasure in desecration."
"I take control," the traitor answered.
A metallic crash rang from the far corner of the hall.
A soldier, once a loyal protector of Torvas's temple, stood chained to a pillar. His armour was cracked. Blood dripped from his wrists. But his eyes burned with fierce, unwavering devotion.
"You monsters!" he roared.
He yanked the chains once.
Twice.
The chains snapped.
"I am a knight of Torvas!" he screamed. "I will not allow you to disgrace my god!"
He dashed forward, sword raised, wrath flowing through him like a storm.
Karesh sighed.
"So dramatic."
With casual movement, the demon lifted a single claw.
A ripple of dark flame surged forward.
The soldier froze mid-stride.
A hole opened through his chest.
He fell into silence.
Karesh wiped imaginary dust from his claws.
"You mortals are too fragile to be entertaining."
Many of the surviving priests trembled. Some cried out. Some sank to their knees. Yet one man, a worshipper of Aelus, wearing simple robes, remained perfectly still in a shadowed corner.
His eyes were sharp.
Alive.
Searching.
Waiting for a moment to escape.
The traitor did not notice him.
He was already moving toward the High Priest's throne.
A golden seat engraved with flames. A symbol of power forged through centuries of sacred judgment. Never in mortal history had anyone outside the church dared touch it.
But the traitor approached with the calm entitlement of a king.
He sat.
And every corrupted dream-born in the hall knelt instantly.
They bowed deeply, foreheads pressed to the bloodied marble.
"O Lord," one whispered. "The Dream-born who stands against Dream Himself."
"The one who breaks the old order," said another.
"The one unbound by fear," murmured a third.
Their devotion vibrated in the air like warped music.
Karesh folded his massive arms.
"You claimed your throne quickly."
"This was never Torvas's temple," the traitor said softly. "It was always waiting for me."
Karesh gestured toward the ruined doorway.
Five lesser demons slithered forward, thin creatures with bone spikes jutting from their backs, eyes glowing with sickly yellow hunger.
Karesh's voice thundered through the hall.
"Find the High Priest."
The five demons bowed low.
"Alive?" hissed one.
"Alive," Karesh said. "For now."
They scattered into the night, moving with unnatural speed toward the alleys and hidden tunnels of Aramoor.
The traitor leaned back into the golden throne, drumming his fingers against the armrest.
"This city will become our foothold," he said. "And when Step Three begins, Dream will realise it is too late to stop us."
Karesh's smile widened, molten veins pulsing brighter.
"The Dream Lord may watch."
"But he will not save them," the traitor whispered.
Around him, the temple trembled.
And I, the First, watched the Dream-born betrayer sink deeper into Ellas's corruption, knowing that this act would echo across realms for ages.