Chapter 118:
The Dreaming City Beneath the Forgotten Sky
There is a city older than memory.
A city that once soared above the clouds, then sank below the dust.
A city where dreams do not sleep, but walk.
They call it Nhar'eth.
Though its true name has never been spoken aloud since the First Silence.
---
Nayel reached its gates without walking.
The stars led him.
Not by light, but by pull. Like a soul remembering where it was first whispered into being.
The Valley had grown still since his birth—still like the held breath before a storm. Echo had remained behind, not out of fear, but trust. Ka'il'a watched from afar, guarding the land with her blade and silence.
But Nayel moved on. For there were places only he could step into.
Nhar'eth greeted him not with guards or messengers.
But with a single door, half-open, and the sound of rainfall in reverse.
---
Inside, he found a city without people—yet not empty.
Each building was shaped like a thought.
Streets shifted beneath his feet, not randomly, but in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Mirrors hung in the sky, showing reflections of what had not yet happened.
A library sat upside-down, every book chained by vines that whispered when touched.
And at the center: the Dream Fountain.
A column of water that rose from the ground, never falling.
In it were glimpses—of lives he might live, deaths he might endure, loves not yet met.
He saw Echo, cradling a second child.
He saw Ka'il'a alone, staring into an eclipse.
He saw himself… older. Wounded. Laughing.
Crying.
Unmade.
Remade.
Human.
---
A voice spoke.
Not aloud.
Within.
"Why have you come here, child of the Valley? Of Flame and Song?"
Nayel did not flinch.
"To find what I must become. And what I must leave behind."
The city pulsed, buildings flexing like breath.
"Then know this—every god dreams. But only one in a thousand dares wake."
---
From the edges of the city, the Forgotten Sky began to crack.
Black lightning.
Not from clouds.
From regret.
The old gods had noticed him again.
Not as a threat.
As a possibility.
---
A figure emerged from the fountain.
Tall, cloaked in moss and shadow. No face. Only eyes—too many.
It spoke as one who remembered the original scream of creation.
"You walk the path of those who do not wish to rule—but must lead."
"I walk only forward," Nayel answered. "And those who wish to follow may."
The figure laughed.
And wept.
And stepped back into the fountain, becoming memory once more.
---
Behind him, a door opened.
It was not there before.
Beyond it?
A stairway of music.
Descending into the heart of Nhar'eth.
Into the place where the First Dream was buried.
And the Last Light awaited its name.
---
End of Chapter 118.