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chapter-500

When Dario dreamed, he could see anything that had come to pass.

Dreams were fleeting things, but many months ago, his gained true meaning. He had a dream of shifting rock and collapsing supports when he still lived in the commune, and when he brought a crew to inspect the area, all that he saw in that dream was true. Poor fortune caused it to collapse, and from that day on Dario suspected that something about him had changed. He was proven right, as whatever bestowed these dreams upon him taught him the rules of power and of the past.

He learned countless things in his dreams. He learned the truth of the ancient calamity written of in myth, of Sandelabara and its pivotal importance to this world. He learned of Argrave, of Traugott, and of Mozzahr. He learned what the three of them were careening towards, and what it meant. Argrave’s drive was that of self-serving goodwill, Traugott’s was that of curious chaos, and Mozzahr’s was that of unceasing ambition. But all three of them could shift this world on its head and ruin the balance brought by the cycle of judgment, each in their own way. And to stop that, his dreams had taught him how to utilize the power that was killing him.

He did not know what was giving him these dreams, nor these powers that he harnessed, but there was an intelligent design behind each of them. He called the mysterious silent entity the dream-giver. Countless experiences told him that all of these visions were true and honest. He saw the truth that Sandelabara led to. It was not something that any, be they mortal or god, should ever have the opportunity to interfere with. Few others before had come this close, and dreamers like Dario had ended their journeys.

That these visions came in dreams meant they quickly faded from the mind. It had been for that reason that he’d taken to writing them down to better remember what lessons he learned as he slept. Yet now, the one known as Durran had managed to get his hands on some of his dream journals, revealing that Argrave’s group was on the right path. And he saw the consequences of that night after night when the dreams came.

Dario dreamt of Argrave, Anneliese, and Therapont standing before the senate, pressing for the rights of the journeymen and the request for a pumping station directly above Sandelabara. He saw their machinations in full effect—coercing the masters by threatening their business, weaving grandiloquent speeches to awe the senate and the people, and holding rallies for the dwarven people to make the senators believe their spot in the senate might be in jeopardy if they opposed this motion.

Dario dreamt of Elenore subtly encroaching on the people occupying the volcano named Vysenn, taking steady steps toward the infernal entrance to Sandelabara. She, Durran, and Galamon prepared to use military might and forceful diplomacy to displace the alabaster-skinned tribals occupying the land. In weeks, they positioned themselves to welcome Vysenn as another addition to their kingdom. All they needed was the king’s word, and the tribes of Vysenn would become nothing more than a memory.

They came closer every day. But they were not the only bound for Sandelabara.

Traugott, wielder of the shadows, came ever closer to mastering the portal to the godless Shadowlands. He transformed much of his body and mind, attuning more closely with the tenebrous plane from which the Shadowlanders came. Traugott could walk in that land without suffering attacks, now. And though Dario was not granted access to his thoughts, he could tell that the former Magister planned to reach Sandelabara.

Mozzahr, meanwhile, had long ago returned to the dreary underground. He navigated far more adroitly than Dario had hoped, bridging the gap between one continent and another using the works of ancestors past. Even with his cult disbanded, the man would not relent on his path to usurp Gerechtigkeit. Dario knew that, if he did reach Sandelabara, the true outcome might be worse.

Because of these three and their unrelenting push toward Sandelabara, Dario’s hand was forced. By night he dreamed, but by day he built his forces. He built uncountable golems in a hidden commune beneath the earth. His works were peer to the prided Iron Giants of his people in strength, yet smaller, faster, and capable of enduring even the magma of the planet’s core. To power them, he called upon the ancient energy pervading his body. The dream-giver possessed these golems, then aided him in building more and more. He destroyed his own body to give birth to theirs.

When the time came, Dario would stop them all—Traugott and his Shadowlanders, Argrave and his kingdom, and Mozzahr and his Emptiness. If he were to die doing so, he would be but another dreamer who had given his life to preserve the vital balance of the world. And at the very least, he had to be sure that neither Traugott nor Mozzahr could win. With Argrave, he might see reason once he arrived at the final juncture. With those two… there would surely be only madness.

Yet then, the dreams showed that Argrave faced the most opposition. The Great Chu prepared its imperial navy for a voyage to Berendar. Chu vessels outnumbered the Veidimen allies they’d enlisted four-to-one. And they had the gods of the Qircassian Coalition at their back, with Erlebnis’ knowledge aiding their advance. The wildcard that was Sataistador stood poised to even the tide in Argrave’s favor, yet he could not be trusted to stay faithful.

It was self-evident that this scenario, just as Vysenn, was a turbulent volcano nearing the point to erupt. And like this, the weeks passed ever onward…