That night, Iris's dream carried a peculiar weight, wrapped in profound silence where each second lingered palpably in the air. Within this stillness, no Lamashtu haunted her, no ghastly splash of blood marred the scene, and no unsettling cries of a baby pierced the quiet.
Instead, there was a quiet white lake, its surface shimmering under the moonlight like a flawless mirror—smooth, calm, and void of shadows. It stretched endlessly, resembling an untouched blanket of snow that stirred a faint blend of curiosity and unease. The air around it was crisp and cool, yet taut with a silent tension that seemed to anticipate some imminent transformation.
Stepping cautiously onto the tranquil water, Iris felt the silky texture ripple softly beneath her feet. She carried no crown signifying status, bore no weapon for protection, and was accompanied by no guardians this time. Each step unfolded in a delicate, magical silence, as the ripples beneath her revealed vivid reflections of her past: her small, joyous self; the tender moment when Fitran first kissed her warmly; and the profound choice to seal her womb, relinquishing an unexpected part of herself.
A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, deepening the enveloping silence around her. Gradually, Iris's awareness began to tremble—as if the boundaries between dream and reality were dissolving into sharper, more vivid hues. The cool water that lapped softly at her feet grew heavier in its embrace, while the whispering wind gave way to the steady, insistent rhythm of her own heartbeat. With each step, the world around her seemed to reshape itself, the shimmering faces from her fleeting memories dissolving into faint, shadowy echoes. She sensed she was on the cusp of awakening from this ethereal dreamscape. Within her chest, emotions churned fiercely—an uneasy blend of fear for the truths looming just beyond reach, and a fragile hope to return to the waking world.
Then, from the depths beneath her, a voice called out—soft, yet resonant—a vibration that shook the very core of her soul. It pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, faint but insistent, like a thread unraveling the veil of oblivion. Iris felt the cool dampness of the air brush against her skin, like morning dew settling softly, grounding her back to the physical world.
This was no external sound; it arose from within her chest, emanating from her very womb. The voice carried the weight of recorded memories and buried emotions, now sharper and more urgent than ever—laden with a painful, unbearable need to be heard. Holding her breath, Iris felt her heart pounding wildly, sensing the call intensify, drawing her deeper into a forgotten truth.
"…Mother?"
Iris paused, stunned by the voice—so achingly familiar, yet distant as if carried on a sudden gust of wind scented with forgotten memories. Each inhale grew deeper, weighted with a dull, aching heaviness that clawed at her lungs, reminding her of harsh truths lurking just beyond the veil of dreams. The emotional tether to the voice coiled tighter around her chest, pulling her desperately upwards toward the surface of consciousness.
"What… is this? Who… are you?"
"I have no name. But I know who I am. And I know who Mother is. Mother fears me."
"No. Mother protects you."
"Protects… or hides?"
The lake's placid water around her began to ripple, its once-smooth surface trembling softly like the hushed breath of the earth itself. Tiny waves shimmered in the faint light, creating delicate mirrors that fractured reality, reflecting shards of alternate futures:
– One where the child is consumed by flames, the Council's fire burning away all hope like a merciless sun, casting grotesque shadows that twisted and writhed within the confines of the mind.
– Another where she is raised beneath Lamashtu's dark embrace, trapped in a void so infinite it feels like the very air has thickened—heavy, cold, and suffocating against her chest.
– In yet another vision, Fitran recoils, his voice trembling with raw fear as he whispers, "I cannot touch this darkness."
Iris closed her eyes, striving to banish the terrifying shadows that clung relentlessly to her mind. The dampness in the air grew thick and tangible, pressing softly against her skin—cold yet tender, as if it sought to soothe her restless soul. The fragile boundary between reality and dreams began to blur, the moisture tracing delicate paths along her body, pulling her back to a world not yet fully formed. Slowly, muted colors and natural sounds slipped away, dissolving into an awakening clarity, like golden sunlight gently breaking through an impenetrable dusk. Amid this fragile stillness, a voice echoed—unavoidable and haunting—piercing the silence wrapped in mystical wonder.
"Mother… why am I alone here?"
"Because the world is not yet ready to accept you."
"Then make the world ready. Or let me go."
"Don't say that…"
"You want me alive, but not born. I… I am lonely."
Within the dream's embrace, Iris found herself seated atop the calm, glassy surface of a lake. The water was warm and tender, caressing her skin softly, reminiscent of the nurturing amniotic fluid that cradles life itself. The rich scent of damp leaves hovered in the air, deepening the serene peace that wrapped around her with gentle insistence. Yet, with time, the soothing sensation began to wane; ripples stirred the lake's surface, shimmering under a veiled light. From the enigmatic depths rose a small figure—a baby, eyes wide with innocent wonder. Two glowing orbs intertwined in a dance of radiant gold and shimmering obsidian, flickering with the awe and curiosity of both Fitra and Iris now united within this newborn presence.
The warmth around Iris intensified, wrapping her in a tender embrace that stirred a deep yearning to return to the surface, to the realm of waking life. The shadows of the dream began to dissolve into soft mist, and in the heavy dimness, a ripple of tension coursed through her—an urgent summons demanding her focus. Waves of loneliness and longing mingled with faint, distant voices drifting in from the outside world, pressing heavily upon her soul. Her heartbeat quickened, pulsing like a drum in the quiet, while the chill of the real earth crept over her toes, grounding her to a world beyond the dream's reach.
"I do not have a name yet. But I know one thing: I don't want to be a curse. I want to… be the reason Mother keeps going."
"You are my blessing… even though I don't know how to save you."
"Then let me help save myself."
"What do you mean…?"
"There is a door within the seal. I can close it from the inside. But that means… I will sleep for a very long time. For years. Maybe… a thousand years."
"NO!"
"But that is the only way to keep Lamashtu from sensing me again. I will remain still. But Mother… please protect this world, so that when I awaken, I can live inside it."
With her final words, the baby's voice softened to a calm whisper, as delicate and fleeting as the night wind brushing through fragile leaves—an echo of hope, a gentle farewell.
"Goodbye for now, Mother."
A heavy sensation began to spread through every fiber of her body as her consciousness slowly returned, shifting from a realm of dreamlike beauty into a sharper, more tangible awareness. With each measured breath, Iris felt her heartbeat reawakening, steady and insistent, anchoring her to a reality that was at once painful and empowering. The sorrow she had endured within the dream world gradually transformed into a profound sense of duty—an awakening resolve that rekindled her purpose and kindled new hope within her soul.
The seal etched into her abdomen now bore additional glyphs—intricate circles and flowing lines that were unmistakably not of her own making. These elegant symbols, radiating from within, depicted mysterious figures, each concealing secrets that whispered of ancient power. The glyphs functioned as a barrier, a door firmly sealed from the fetal side, guarding what lay beneath. Surrounding the seal, the skin took on a smooth, satin-like sheen that shimmered subtly in the dim light, enhancing the mystical aura that seemed to pull her deeper into an enigmatic silence, a place suspended between wonder and stillness.
However, as awareness gradually surfaced, the sensation shifted. The cold air brushing against his skin grew sharper and more tangible, carrying the damp, invigorating scent of fresh morning dew from the outside world. Though the child chose to remain asleep, the soft, warm cocoon that once enveloped him began to dissipate. In its place came the solid feel of a sturdy bed beneath him and the comforting weight of a blanket wrapped snugly around his body. His heartbeat quickened, a slow awakening that gently peeled him away from the dreamlike embrace, like the first rays of light seeping through cracks in the darkness.
He lifted his head tentatively, caught between the sanctuary of his dream and the cold reality lurking just beyond the window—an unknown presence that stirred a stirring sense of fear. The protective veil shielding him from the dangers of the world felt increasingly fragile, yet within his heart, a fierce resolve began to kindle. His emotions surged with a deep longing to face this real world, bolstered by a newfound courage. As his senses sharpened and he became fully awake, he clung to this fragile moment of transition with unexpected strength.
Despite his physical growth, the fetus remained sealed within, a guarded spirit shielding both himself and his mother from the lurking threats of Lamashtu and Serelith.