Your attention is pulled into a dimly lit ritual chamber.
The air hangs heavy with the smell of incense, but it can't quite mask the tell tale smell of salt water that permeates the air in Atlantis. The Ahku of Teresh sits calmly in the middle of the room while a Locri man hurries himself around the room setting things up for what looks to be some kind of ritual or ceremony.
"I don't mean to question your instructions holiness, but I still do not understand what all of this is for. If we are going somewhere, why not prepare a boat for travel?" asks the Locri, some fear in his voice.
The Ahku chuckles softly to themselves. Their ornate silver mask sends lights dancing across the stone walls as they turn to address their assistant.
"Nikitas, please sit for a moment. I'll explain what I can in a way I believe you'll understand"
Nikitas sits on the floor in front of the Ahku, bowing his head slightly.
"Many years ago, long before you existed, long before this version of me existed, I encountered an extraordinary man. A man with a vision for this entire world. A world unified under his flag. While I was cautious of him originally, and while we did have our disagreements early in our encounters, I did eventually come around to his way of viewing things and assisted him in the care of this world. He had the plan, and I acted as his connection back to his people. Together we worked towards a stronger, unified Atlantis."
The Ahku's posture drops into something a bit less formal. They lean in towards Nikitas, almost like a parent telling their child a story.
"As I'm sure you can figure out, this man's name was Poseidon. While I did act as his primary interface back to his subjects, he was not alone. There were other Neteru who worked with him. Beings just as impressive as him, but none with the care for Atlantis that he showed. These Neteru formed the backbone of our theology. Powerful beings with Poseidon at the top, leading them all. But in my multiple years and multiple lives serving the Neteru I learned a few things from them. I learned that there were more of them. I learned where they came from. I learned about other worlds the Neteru had helped in the past. And I learned how to contact them."
The Ahku stands from their chair.
"I can not promise you that the people we are contacting are the Neteru returned, but I can tell you that they are from the same place. As a show of good faith we are going to meet them where they live. We will ask for their hospitality and act with honor while in their house. Provide them the safety of a host so our conversations can be as productive as possible. So Nikitas."
The Ahku offers a hand to help Nikitas off of his feet.
"Would you like to join me in seeing where the Neteru came from?"
As Nikitas reaches out and takes the Ahku's hand, your consciousness fades from the room.~
"I don't mean to question your instructions holiness, but I still do not understand what all of this is for. If we are going somewhere, why not prepare a boat for travel?" asks the Locri, some fear in his voice.
The Ahku chuckles softly to themselves. Their ornate silver mask sends lights dancing across the stone walls as they turn to address their assistant.
"Nikitas, please sit for a moment. I'll explain what I can in a way I believe you'll understand"
Nikitas sits on the floor in front of the Ahku, bowing his head slightly.
"Many years ago, long before you existed, long before this version of me existed, I encountered an extraordinary man. A man with a vision for this entire world. A world unified under his flag. While I was cautious of him originally, and while we did have our disagreements early in our encounters, I did eventually come around to his way of viewing things and assisted him in the care of this world. He had the plan, and I acted as his connection back to his people. Together we worked towards a stronger, unified Atlantis."
The Ahku's posture drops into something a bit less formal. They lean in towards Nikitas, almost like a parent telling their child a story.
"As I'm sure you can figure out, this man's name was Poseidon. While I did act as his primary interface back to his subjects, he was not alone. There were other Neteru who worked with him. Beings just as impressive as him, but none with the care for Atlantis that he showed. These Neteru formed the backbone of our theology. Powerful beings with Poseidon at the top, leading them all. But in my multiple years and multiple lives serving the Neteru I learned a few things from them. I learned that there were more of them. I learned where they came from. I learned about other worlds the Neteru had helped in the past. And I learned how to contact them."
The Ahku stands from their chair.
"I can not promise you that the people we are contacting are the Neteru returned, but I can tell you that they are from the same place. As a show of good faith we are going to meet them where they live. We will ask for their hospitality and act with honor while in their house. Provide them the safety of a host so our conversations can be as productive as possible. So Nikitas."
The Ahku offers a hand to help Nikitas off of his feet.
"Would you like to join me in seeing where the Neteru came from?"
As Nikitas reaches out and takes the Ahku's hand, your consciousness fades from the room.~
Your vision settles into a fortune teller's tent.
A pair of red chromites sit across from Sedia as pastel cards lie spread across the table between them. Reassured by the fortune she has given, they gather their things to leave—only to freeze as confusion and concern cross their faces. A purple aura begins to radiate from Sedia.
The sudden cosmic interference twists your vision. Flashes of the Magician erupt before your eyes, casting a powerful spell from her book. Her form shifts rapidly: first a black-and-brown tunic, then Far Realmsian armor with a parasitic helm adorned in golden wings; then a cream-colored dress framed by a shock of white hair; then a red-and-gray kimono paired with Fable’s kitsune mask. Lightning sheaths her body before she finally settles once more into the familiar brown-and-black tunic.
A second figure appears—Koroloth. At first he stands as a gargoyle with massive leathery wings, wrapped in the tatters of a red leather jacket. His image shifts in turn: crowned as a king, then bound in the yellow sigils of a warlock pact, and finally becoming a monstrous shadow lurking in darkness, all teeth and claws.
When the vision snaps back to Sedia’s tent, the room is in chaos. Furniture has overturned, loose objects drift from shelves, and the chromites scramble to keep everything from floating away while trying to help Sedia recover.
Freshly drawn cards are spread across the table before her, their silvery words and watercolor images gleaming softly.
On one side of the spread lay three cards. The first, Connect to Heart, showed two dogs faced apart beneath the outline of a radiant sun, their forms cast in soft watercolor hues that seemed almost warm against the silvery ink. Beside it rested Surrender, drawn reversed, its image a great unblinking eye suspended within a woven wreath, now turned upside down as though its gaze had been cast away from the heavens. The final card on that side, Manifest, was likewise reversed—a horned animal skull encircled by glittering gems.
Across from them sat another trio. Seeker depicted a pair of open hands scattering bones and teeth like sacred offerings across empty space. Next to it lay Get Curious, reversed, showing the pale outline of a bird with its wings spread wide, frozen in a posture that felt less like flight and more like warning. The last card, The Void, rested upside down at the edge of the spread: a stark, empty diamond devoid of symbol or color, its blankness somehow more unsettling than any image could have been.
Between the two spreads lies a final card: a hand with fingers splayed like a puppeteer, unseen strings trailing down toward a planetoid.
The Universe.
The chromites stare in amazement tinged with fear.
“Does that always happen?”
Sedia exhales shakily, still recovering her strength.
“No,” she replies. “"That's...that's not a good omen. You should head to the airfield and book passage back to Reverie, it appears the Hope is changing course for Throne Peak and the Dreamwalkers will be arriving soon.”~
The sudden cosmic interference twists your vision. Flashes of the Magician erupt before your eyes, casting a powerful spell from her book. Her form shifts rapidly: first a black-and-brown tunic, then Far Realmsian armor with a parasitic helm adorned in golden wings; then a cream-colored dress framed by a shock of white hair; then a red-and-gray kimono paired with Fable’s kitsune mask. Lightning sheaths her body before she finally settles once more into the familiar brown-and-black tunic.
A second figure appears—Koroloth. At first he stands as a gargoyle with massive leathery wings, wrapped in the tatters of a red leather jacket. His image shifts in turn: crowned as a king, then bound in the yellow sigils of a warlock pact, and finally becoming a monstrous shadow lurking in darkness, all teeth and claws.
When the vision snaps back to Sedia’s tent, the room is in chaos. Furniture has overturned, loose objects drift from shelves, and the chromites scramble to keep everything from floating away while trying to help Sedia recover.
Freshly drawn cards are spread across the table before her, their silvery words and watercolor images gleaming softly.
On one side of the spread lay three cards. The first, Connect to Heart, showed two dogs faced apart beneath the outline of a radiant sun, their forms cast in soft watercolor hues that seemed almost warm against the silvery ink. Beside it rested Surrender, drawn reversed, its image a great unblinking eye suspended within a woven wreath, now turned upside down as though its gaze had been cast away from the heavens. The final card on that side, Manifest, was likewise reversed—a horned animal skull encircled by glittering gems.
Across from them sat another trio. Seeker depicted a pair of open hands scattering bones and teeth like sacred offerings across empty space. Next to it lay Get Curious, reversed, showing the pale outline of a bird with its wings spread wide, frozen in a posture that felt less like flight and more like warning. The last card, The Void, rested upside down at the edge of the spread: a stark, empty diamond devoid of symbol or color, its blankness somehow more unsettling than any image could have been.
Between the two spreads lies a final card: a hand with fingers splayed like a puppeteer, unseen strings trailing down toward a planetoid.
The Universe.
The chromites stare in amazement tinged with fear.
“Does that always happen?”
Sedia exhales shakily, still recovering her strength.
“No,” she replies. “"That's...that's not a good omen. You should head to the airfield and book passage back to Reverie, it appears the Hope is changing course for Throne Peak and the Dreamwalkers will be arriving soon.”~
This vision comes into focus as the sounds of footsteps fill your ears.
They echo through a grand chamber, black tile glistening in swirls like galaxies, before you see a set of black boots striding across the hall. Rising up, you see the entire black regalia of the Grimm, his golden skull mask unmoving as he walks through this space. Beyond the walls of the great arches sat the familiar darkness of infinity. The space between space. The Void.
The Grimm continued down the corridor before stopping at a large antechamber. In the middle lay a complex series of sigils, characters you could not hope to recognize or explain, pulsing in a strange array of light and matter almost as if it were alive. It expanded outward in all manner, but across the weird language, spotted in almost intentional chaos, were candles. Hundreds of them from your brief glance over the ritual. All in various states of being and use. Some melted all the way down to the metal base once held them steady, others halfway melted with a flame still burning strong, and even still others that looked freshly lit.
Grimm's expression, if it could be called that, was unchanged but the target of his vision drew to one candle in particular. The wax around its base gave one very clear indication. This candle had burned for a very long time. Far longer than whatever sort of candle this could be should have burned for. But it was just a thin wick with a soft blue flame that flickered, barely visible above the metal base and wax that accumulated around it.
“Ah,” he said softly, a warmth in his voice that seemed almost out of place in the endless dark. “There you are.” He stepped closer towards it, almost like he had kinship with this candle.
“I was beginning to think you might outlast even me,” he mused. He had checked in on it, now and then. Not interfering—never that—but observing, the way one might revisit an old story they never quite finished.
“Well,” he said gently, “you’ve certainly earned a proper escort.” For a moment, he considered going himself. And truly, he would have liked to. The Grimm sighed, though it carried no frustration—only acceptance.
“It seems I am needed elsewhere,” he said, almost apologetically, to no one and everyone at once. He raised a hand, and the Void responded like an old friend answering a call.
The Warden arrived not as a sudden presence, but as a natural continuation of the space itself—stepping forward as though he had always been there, simply choosing now to be seen.
“Warden.” the Grimm greeted warmly, turning to face him fully. “I was hoping you might be nearby.” The Warden inclined his head, respectful but never distant. There was familiarity here, trust earned over time and trials both had witnessed.
“You rarely hope,” the Warden replied. “You usually know.”
The Grimm chuckled softly. “Ah, but hope makes things more interesting, doesn’t it?” With a gentle motion, he revealed the flickering flame between them. The Warden’s gaze settled on it, and something in his posture shifted—recognition, perhaps, of what made this one different.
“You’ve been watching this one.”
“For quite some time,” the Grimm admitted. “I would go myself,” the Grimm continued, his tone calm but sincere, “but other matters call my attention. So, I shall have you go instead.” He gestured briefly with his hands, a manner almost like spellcasting, before he turned again to the Warden. “And I want you to take the Companion with you. This is something they should experience.”
“You’ve given me more freedom as of late,” Warden said carefully. “This falls within that trust?”
The Grimm met his gaze, steady and certain. “It does. You have walked as they have walked. Seen what they see, felt what they feel. The others follow duty. You…” He tilted his head, giving the impression of a smile. “You understand choice. And I want you to extend the same choice.”
There was a brief pause before the Warden replied. “Very well. I shall meet them after they return to the Dreaming again and escort them.” He began to turn before he stopped abruptly. “And…the rest of the Dreamwalkers?”
“Ah. Yes. They should be free to accompany you, if they wish. Just remind them that this is not a sight-seeing detour. You and the others will have a mission to complete.” His tone shifted slightly to more serious, carrying over to the Warden his intention without being said. “But…this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would hate for them to miss out on this knowledge.”
With a silent nod, the Warden turned back towards the infinite darkness of the void and without a sound, vanished before your sight. The vision turned back again towards the Grimm.
“…You’ve walked a long road,” he said softly, warmth threading through the infinite dark. “Let’s see where it leads you next.”
And somewhere, far beyond this sanctuary, a final breath was taken--
—and something ancient, patient, and kind waited to see what would follow.
And then your vision fades…~
The Grimm continued down the corridor before stopping at a large antechamber. In the middle lay a complex series of sigils, characters you could not hope to recognize or explain, pulsing in a strange array of light and matter almost as if it were alive. It expanded outward in all manner, but across the weird language, spotted in almost intentional chaos, were candles. Hundreds of them from your brief glance over the ritual. All in various states of being and use. Some melted all the way down to the metal base once held them steady, others halfway melted with a flame still burning strong, and even still others that looked freshly lit.
Grimm's expression, if it could be called that, was unchanged but the target of his vision drew to one candle in particular. The wax around its base gave one very clear indication. This candle had burned for a very long time. Far longer than whatever sort of candle this could be should have burned for. But it was just a thin wick with a soft blue flame that flickered, barely visible above the metal base and wax that accumulated around it.
“Ah,” he said softly, a warmth in his voice that seemed almost out of place in the endless dark. “There you are.” He stepped closer towards it, almost like he had kinship with this candle.
“I was beginning to think you might outlast even me,” he mused. He had checked in on it, now and then. Not interfering—never that—but observing, the way one might revisit an old story they never quite finished.
“Well,” he said gently, “you’ve certainly earned a proper escort.” For a moment, he considered going himself. And truly, he would have liked to. The Grimm sighed, though it carried no frustration—only acceptance.
“It seems I am needed elsewhere,” he said, almost apologetically, to no one and everyone at once. He raised a hand, and the Void responded like an old friend answering a call.
The Warden arrived not as a sudden presence, but as a natural continuation of the space itself—stepping forward as though he had always been there, simply choosing now to be seen.
“Warden.” the Grimm greeted warmly, turning to face him fully. “I was hoping you might be nearby.” The Warden inclined his head, respectful but never distant. There was familiarity here, trust earned over time and trials both had witnessed.
“You rarely hope,” the Warden replied. “You usually know.”
The Grimm chuckled softly. “Ah, but hope makes things more interesting, doesn’t it?” With a gentle motion, he revealed the flickering flame between them. The Warden’s gaze settled on it, and something in his posture shifted—recognition, perhaps, of what made this one different.
“You’ve been watching this one.”
“For quite some time,” the Grimm admitted. “I would go myself,” the Grimm continued, his tone calm but sincere, “but other matters call my attention. So, I shall have you go instead.” He gestured briefly with his hands, a manner almost like spellcasting, before he turned again to the Warden. “And I want you to take the Companion with you. This is something they should experience.”
“You’ve given me more freedom as of late,” Warden said carefully. “This falls within that trust?”
The Grimm met his gaze, steady and certain. “It does. You have walked as they have walked. Seen what they see, felt what they feel. The others follow duty. You…” He tilted his head, giving the impression of a smile. “You understand choice. And I want you to extend the same choice.”
There was a brief pause before the Warden replied. “Very well. I shall meet them after they return to the Dreaming again and escort them.” He began to turn before he stopped abruptly. “And…the rest of the Dreamwalkers?”
“Ah. Yes. They should be free to accompany you, if they wish. Just remind them that this is not a sight-seeing detour. You and the others will have a mission to complete.” His tone shifted slightly to more serious, carrying over to the Warden his intention without being said. “But…this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would hate for them to miss out on this knowledge.”
With a silent nod, the Warden turned back towards the infinite darkness of the void and without a sound, vanished before your sight. The vision turned back again towards the Grimm.
“…You’ve walked a long road,” he said softly, warmth threading through the infinite dark. “Let’s see where it leads you next.”
And somewhere, far beyond this sanctuary, a final breath was taken--
—and something ancient, patient, and kind waited to see what would follow.
And then your vision fades…~
"HmmmMMM. I guess it's time."
A shrill voice cut through into the Soulforge vision before revealing the voice’s surroundings to your eyes.
The masked old witch was bent over her cauldron. One would think she was staring into the future, but as she straightened and turned towards you, it became rather obvious that her eyes are sightless. Nevertheless, she stares directly at you, like she can see the invisible force revealing her to you.
“Oh, now you decide to watch me? I guess that means it really is time. Shoo shoo.”
She flaps her hands in your direction like she is shooing a cat. The vision pulls back to reveal a rustic room mostly in greyscale, with purple and red flowers and herbs spread around in neat piles on a nearby table. Much less neat piles of truly random objects are strewn almost everywhere else in the room.
“Young one, get ready, we will have places to be soon,” the witch said without looking around.
A figure that would be shorter than the witch, if it were not for his white horns, nodded and carefully asked in a small voice.
“They are watching us now? Is that alright?” His eyes flick between where the witch is looking and the witch herself. “I still don’t know if it is wise for me to meet with them, even if someone asked after me.”
“Well, I can always have them sent here instead. It can still be on your terms.”
“I wouldn’t even know what my terms are any way.”~
The masked old witch was bent over her cauldron. One would think she was staring into the future, but as she straightened and turned towards you, it became rather obvious that her eyes are sightless. Nevertheless, she stares directly at you, like she can see the invisible force revealing her to you.
“Oh, now you decide to watch me? I guess that means it really is time. Shoo shoo.”
She flaps her hands in your direction like she is shooing a cat. The vision pulls back to reveal a rustic room mostly in greyscale, with purple and red flowers and herbs spread around in neat piles on a nearby table. Much less neat piles of truly random objects are strewn almost everywhere else in the room.
“Young one, get ready, we will have places to be soon,” the witch said without looking around.
A figure that would be shorter than the witch, if it were not for his white horns, nodded and carefully asked in a small voice.
“They are watching us now? Is that alright?” His eyes flick between where the witch is looking and the witch herself. “I still don’t know if it is wise for me to meet with them, even if someone asked after me.”
“Well, I can always have them sent here instead. It can still be on your terms.”
“I wouldn’t even know what my terms are any way.”~
"DON'T TAKE HIS SOUL!"
The words ring out across the battle ravaged fields of Loch Lodir. The smell of smoke and ozone fill Koroloth's senses as his arms get heavy. He falls to his knees as the exhaustion of the fight finally catches up to him. Battle weary Dreamwalkers fill his vision as he feels the medusa venom spread through his body. He stares defiant at the assembled Dreamwalker order in front of him. He can't make out any of their faces through the smoky haze of the battlefield, but their disparate equipment and dress stands out as a memorable detail as opposed to the cookie cutter uniforms of the Technohaven company.
As the Dreamwalkers raise weapons and spells to cover him his core muscles finally give in to the weight of his newly stone arms. On his hands and knees he stares at the grass below him. He can't do anything but feel his skin, muscles, and the very fiber of his being solidify into stone.
The last thing he felt on this battlefield was his soul slowly exiting his chest.~
As the Dreamwalkers raise weapons and spells to cover him his core muscles finally give in to the weight of his newly stone arms. On his hands and knees he stares at the grass below him. He can't do anything but feel his skin, muscles, and the very fiber of his being solidify into stone.
The last thing he felt on this battlefield was his soul slowly exiting his chest.~
The Soulforge doesn't seem to pull your vision so much as focus it.
Your senses are filled with the delightful smells of roasting meat and sautéing vegetables. Jacques is seen singing along to music coming from a pastel pink crystal radio in the corner of his kitchen half dancing as he cooks giving extra flourishes with his spatula.
The music fades out slightly as a small feminine voice cuts in over the music,
“Um, Mr. Soulforge?”
Jacques looks a little started and turns off the heat of the stove.
“Uh, Hello? Who is there? I am a soulforge but my name is Jacques not Mr. Soulforge.”
“Ah, well Jacques, lovely to, I guess, meet you. My name is Perrine and I have a … request for you, if you would care to help me.”
“That is my job as a soulforge! To help … And also cook for Vex.”
“I was wondering if you could bring the other Dreamwalkers from our realm to meet with me? I can send you a location.”
“I can do that! I can do that as soon as I am done with this roast! I just want to make sure that the other soul forges have dinner”
A delicate giggle is heard through the crystal.
“Right now is not necessary, maybe when we are dreaming next?”
“Oh, I guess that makes more sense.”
“Thank you, Jacques. I look forward to seeing you soon.”~
The music fades out slightly as a small feminine voice cuts in over the music,
“Um, Mr. Soulforge?”
Jacques looks a little started and turns off the heat of the stove.
“Uh, Hello? Who is there? I am a soulforge but my name is Jacques not Mr. Soulforge.”
“Ah, well Jacques, lovely to, I guess, meet you. My name is Perrine and I have a … request for you, if you would care to help me.”
“That is my job as a soulforge! To help … And also cook for Vex.”
“I was wondering if you could bring the other Dreamwalkers from our realm to meet with me? I can send you a location.”
“I can do that! I can do that as soon as I am done with this roast! I just want to make sure that the other soul forges have dinner”
A delicate giggle is heard through the crystal.
“Right now is not necessary, maybe when we are dreaming next?”
“Oh, I guess that makes more sense.”
“Thank you, Jacques. I look forward to seeing you soon.”~
Your vision focuses on what looks to be a storage closet.
Boxes and supplies look like they have hastily been moved out of the way or extracted from the room to make space.
You hear the sound of stone scraping on stone getting closer. The Magician comes into view sliding the statue of Koroloth into the makeshift cell with an unseen force. She regards the statue with a look of curiosity as she moves to setting up wards, monitoring spells, and barriers to keep the prisoner contained.
As she finishes this process your perception of time speeds up. The sun sets with incredible speed as if someone were fastforwarding video footage. The sun then rises and sets again in a consistent loop as you see the statue start to move. Even at this accelerated speed Koroloth seems to be standing up in slow motion. The Magician and RJ are seen speeding in and out of the room tending to the wards and other magics as Koroloth slowly gets a leg under him. You see a conversation play out at high speed, likely about what to do about this, as Koroloth gets his other leg under himself. Wrath, Chaos, and The Soldier appear to look at the situation and discuss things with the Magician as Koroloth lifts his hands off the ground and begins to stand up straight.
As he finishes the process of standing time slows back down to normal speed. You hear the muffled voice of the Magician off in the distance. You aren't able to pick out much but you hear a few words.
"Yellow"
"Dreamwalkers"
"Storm"
"Kingdom"
"Horror"
As your vision begins to fade you see Korloth slowly open his eyes.~
You hear the sound of stone scraping on stone getting closer. The Magician comes into view sliding the statue of Koroloth into the makeshift cell with an unseen force. She regards the statue with a look of curiosity as she moves to setting up wards, monitoring spells, and barriers to keep the prisoner contained.
As she finishes this process your perception of time speeds up. The sun sets with incredible speed as if someone were fastforwarding video footage. The sun then rises and sets again in a consistent loop as you see the statue start to move. Even at this accelerated speed Koroloth seems to be standing up in slow motion. The Magician and RJ are seen speeding in and out of the room tending to the wards and other magics as Koroloth slowly gets a leg under him. You see a conversation play out at high speed, likely about what to do about this, as Koroloth gets his other leg under himself. Wrath, Chaos, and The Soldier appear to look at the situation and discuss things with the Magician as Koroloth lifts his hands off the ground and begins to stand up straight.
As he finishes the process of standing time slows back down to normal speed. You hear the muffled voice of the Magician off in the distance. You aren't able to pick out much but you hear a few words.
"Yellow"
"Dreamwalkers"
"Storm"
"Kingdom"
"Horror"
As your vision begins to fade you see Korloth slowly open his eyes.~
