Chapter Text
The Dreaming was far away from humanity, and getting further by the day.
Were you another kind of supernatural being, you might have heard the whispers and rumors about Lord Morpheus, King of the Dreaming, and realized why this separation was occurring, but living your solitary life, all you knew was this: the Dreaming was too far from humanity, and the typical magic keeping it tethered was not enough.
So, you prepared for some time away, made sure all the other realms’ tethers were secure and well-tended, and made your way to the Dreaming. Here, it was clear much was amiss. You didn’t pay much attention to the landscape anytime you were here, but even you could notice that the normally vibrant and alive surroundings were desolate and barren. Was this the source of the distance? Was the distance causing this bizarre illness of the land itself? Was something else wrong and causing both? You couldn’t say, but you knew that while humanity relied on dreaming, the Dreaming relied on humanity just as much, so the steadily increasing distance between them was not helping anything, and that’s the only thing you can address.
All the other bridges you have made recently from this realm have decayed and fallen apart, well before their time. Investigating, you find that all the anchors to the Dreaming are weak and crumbling. It would seem a stronger anchor is needed this time. Perhaps one that goes to multiple points across the realm, and then can be used to create a larger and stronger bridge. The task seems unachievable at first, but like all the impossible things you have done before, you figure that getting started is the important step.
Weeks pass – or is it months, or maybe just a few days? Time passes oddly in the Dreaming, and travel is strange as well. You look to a tall mountain on the horizon, imagine the long walk it will take to get there, and between one eye blink and the next you are standing a top stone looking down at clouds. You wade through a shallow stream, squinting against the rising sun, and see your path continues across a small meadow before disappearing again into forest. Instead of a few minutes, you spend hours walking across the meadow, the sun setting as you finally made it under the cover of trees again.
Regardless, some time has passed, and you have tied new anchors across the realm, with ties that lead only to you and have no load to bear. Oddly, you have felt more and more weighed down as time goes on, but it is only slightly unusual for extended time working in a realm that is not your home, so you pay it little mind. You have finally made it to the center of the design you imagined, and one last anchor is needed to complete the magically powerful pattern that will enhance the strength of the bond you create. Step one of the unachievable task is nearly complete: after this you can take the bundle of individual anchor lines, combine them into one strong rope, and walk it across the universe to find or create something equally strong to tie it too.
First things first, however. Kneeling down, you breathe deeply and draw your power together. After decades of practice, an anchor is something you can do in your sleep, but as you work, there is unusual resistance, and you must pour more and more power into your craft. A headache begins splitting up from the base of your skull. As the pain continues your vision starts to flash with images. Dark, with a splash of shining white in the center. You blink it away and push a bit more power into your anchor. A sphere of glass, starting to glow with white lighting. You focus, instead watching your shaking arms as you strain to complete the necessary motions. A man with starlight in his eyes trapped within the glass. Drawing one final shuddering breath, you complete the spell, expecting the pain and visions to vanish.
Instead, they redouble, and you find yourself wrenched towards the anchor you have made, an inescapable pull that leaves no time for response or reaction. Where you would expect to hit the ground, you are instead falling through the cosmos, a dark tunnel of stars and clouds of dust. Before you have time to panic, you arrive at your destination: no longer seeing the trapped man from afar, but standing with him in a shining globe of light. He does not speak, but stares in you in wonder and confusion. Not understanding any more than him, you continue to follow the pull that brought you here. Though no one but you should be able to see or interact with your magic, you hold out the bundle of ties that were to become your bridge. He slowly raises his hand to grasp it, and as soon as he makes contact you witness what must be the opposite of your journey here – he flies upward and somehow also away. When you would expect him to hit a wall of glass, you instead get a brief glimpse of the tunnel of stars and darkness before he is gone.
Whatever force or magic or sense that pulled you here now encompasses you with a feeling of righteous accomplishment: something that was fundamentally wrong in the world has been made right, and you are flooded with a shadow of the universe’s satisfaction. However, as you recover from the exertion, breath by gasping breath, this feeling is quickly overtaken by mounting dread. This was no vision of spell work – your feet truly stand on a cold curved surface, your hands slam into glass when you stumble, and you look around in horror as you realize that you have not rescued the man in the sphere. You have simply taken his place.