Elian had not been born with the aura of wisdom that now wrapped around him like an ancient cloak.
Once, he had been an impetuous young man, hungry for knowledge, his eyes gleaming with a feverish curiosity. His life, from childhood, had been entwined with the threads of the Dream Realm—not by an innate gift like Kael's, but by lineage. His family, for generations, had served the Deep Foundations, the hidden citadel at the heart of Dreams, guardian of the secrets of sleep and wakefulness.
They were the architects of the Dream Realm, scholars of its arcane laws, creators of its most intricate structures.
Elian, the youngest of three brothers, had always been the brightest—and the most rebellious. While his siblings were content to study ancient texts and replicate traditional techniques, Elian sought to go further: to understand not only how dreams functioned, but why they existed, and what their true purpose was.
His ambition was immense, almost reckless, and often led him to break the rigid rules of the Deep Foundations.
"Elian, knowledge is not a river from which you can drink your fill without restraint!" his mentor had once told him—a stern, elderly Keeper whose patience had been worn thin by Elian's endless questions."It's an ocean, and you're diving in without a boat!"
Elian, then little more than a teenager, had replied with a defiant smile.
"Master, how will I ever understand the depth of the ocean if I stay on the shore?"
He possessed a natural talent for dream manipulation, an intuition that went beyond mere technique. He could shape dreamscapes with unsettling ease, navigate collective dreams with almost unnatural precision. But his true obsession was the Founder: Solara.
The stories of Solara—the legendary figure who had built the Foundations and woven the Dream Realm as it was known—fascinated him. Elian studied every scroll, every fragment of legend about her, trying to decipher her methods, her motives, the secret of her immense power.
"Why are you so obsessed with the Founder, Elian?"Anya had asked him once—then a young student of his—sitting beside him in the silent library of the Foundations, the dim lantern light illuminating stacks of ancient texts."Isn't it enough to study her works? Why dig so deeply into her mind?"
Elian had lifted his gaze from a yellowed scroll, his eyes alight.
"Because Solara wasn't just a builder, Anya. She was a visionary. She understood something we've forgotten. The Dream Realm is more than a place of rest—it's a reflection, a source. And if her creation is so perfect, there must be a reason beyond mere artistry."
He had lowered his voice.
"And I have a feeling something is happening. The cracks in the Dream Realm... they aren't natural. I think Solara foresaw something like this."
In that period, his meticulous study led him to uncover ancient warnings—whispers of a potential blight: the Ash.
It was a corruption that, according to the darkest prophecies, would consume dreams, turning vitality into emptiness—a corruption born from deep disillusionment or a catastrophic flaw in creation itself. Many within the Foundations dismissed these prophecies as mere tales to frighten apprentices, but Elian felt a deep truth within them.
He spent years trying to replicate Solara's experiments, striving to understand her connection to the Dream Realm in a way that went beyond manipulation—an almost symbiotic bond. Solara existed through her connection to the Dream Realm, and the Dream Realm existed through her.
One day, during one of his solitary experiments in a remote wing of the Foundations, Elian attempted to reconstruct a fragment of an ancient dream—a dream relic said to contain a spark of Solara's consciousness. He followed complex formulas, chanted long forgotten incantations by most Keepers, his mind stretched to its limits.
But something went wrong. He failed to contain the energy.
A wave of cold and despair swept over him—an emotion so intense and alien it nearly broke him. For an instant, he saw a dreamscape in ruin—not destroyed by impact, but by slow, relentless decay, as though it had been drained of all vitality. And at the center of that desolation, he sensed a presence. Ancient, yes—but not benevolent. A presence that was not Solara, but something that had taken her place—something hollow and ravenous.
It was the Ash—not merely an external evil, but a corruption born from the heart of the Founder herself, a shadow of what she once was.
Master Elian emerged from that experience transformed. His hair began to gray prematurely; deep lines etched themselves into his face. His youthful impetuousness had given way to solemn gravity, though his eyes still held that spark of determination. He was no longer just a scholar—he had become a warrior of knowledge, a Keeper in the truest sense. He no longer sought merely to understand, but to protect.
He realized the Ash was not an enemy to be fought with blades or conventional spells. It was a spiritual disease, a poison seeping through the fissures of the Dream Realm—and only a deep understanding of its nature could stop it.
He began training Anya and Lyra with iron discipline, teaching them not only the techniques of dream manipulation but also the history, prophecies, and philosophy of the Keepers. He wanted them prepared—not only for visible dangers, but for those unseen, the threats that could corrupt their very souls.
"The Dream Realm is a delicate balance, my young apprentices," he often told them as they walked through the halls of the Foundations."Every thread we weave affects the fabric of reality. And every wound in a dream, even the smallest, can leave a scar upon the waking world."
His speeches, once filled with academic detachment, now carried a new urgency—the weight of his discovery pressing upon him.
The burden of his knowledge was immense. He knew that the Founder—their very source of power—had become their greatest threat. Solara was still there, but she was a Solara corroded—a Solara who had become the embodiment of the Ash.
And Elian knew that the fate of the Dream Realm, and perhaps the waking world itself, depended on the ability of a few Keepers to face this terrible truth and find a way to stop what had once been their guide and protector.
His wisdom had not been born of books, but of pain—and the awareness of a terrifying truth.
What would have happened now?