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In the swirling darkness of the cosmos, where stars are born and die in silence, there exists a being known as Meris the Dreammaker. Unlike the other cosmic figures such as Liora, Elara, Koriel, and Arkin, Meris’s domain was not the tangible universe but the dreams, fears, and untold desires of all beings, hidden deep in the folds of their minds. She was an elusive figure, more a myth than reality, whispered about in the stories of civilizations spanning galaxies. Her form was ever-shifting, nebulous, and ethereal, a creature born of thought rather than flesh—a shape that changed according to the dreams she touched.
Meris resided in the Veil of Slumber, an ancient plane interwoven with the dreams of all sentient beings. The Veil was a place of unparalleled beauty and horror alike, a realm where imagination had free reign and logic bowed before the primal forces of desire and fear. No one knew how Meris had come to rule this place, not even Meris herself. She simply was, as ancient and essential as the dreams that danced within her realm.
The Veil was connected to all minds across time and space, and Meris roamed it endlessly, drifting through the dreams of beings from all walks of life. She had no duty or mission, only an eternal curiosity about the stories of others. To her, each dream was a universe in itself, a glimpse into the secret lives of beings, the vulnerabilities they hid from the waking world. And so she traveled from one mind to the next, a silent observer of dreams.
Yet, one day, something unexpected happened—something that had never occurred in all the eons of her existence. As Meris drifted through the Veil, moving from one dreamscape to another, she felt a tug. It was subtle at first, like a whisper on the edge of her awareness, but it grew stronger with each passing moment. Intrigued, she allowed herself to be pulled along, following the strange force that beckoned her.
The tug led her to a remote region of the Veil, a place she rarely visited. Here, the dreams were darker, quieter—places where pain and sorrow lingered, untouched by the light of hope. And in the center of this darkened realm, she found it: a solitary dream, isolated from all others, shrouded in shadows so thick that even Meris could barely penetrate them.
Meris hesitated. She could feel the immense weight of this dream, a sorrow so deep and profound that it resonated through the Veil like a low, mournful song. But her curiosity won over her caution, and she reached out, letting herself slip into the dream.
The dreamscape was unlike any she had ever encountered. It was a barren wasteland, devoid of color or light, a place where the sky was an endless expanse of black and the ground was cracked and dry. In the distance, she saw a figure standing alone—a tall, imposing figure shrouded in a cloak that billowed in an invisible wind.
Meris approached cautiously, her form shifting to match the muted tones of the dreamscape. As she drew closer, she felt the sorrow radiating from the figure, a sadness so profound that it weighed down the very air around them.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle, as though afraid to disturb the stillness of the place.
The figure turned slowly, revealing a face lined with age and weariness. His eyes were dark, filled with a sorrow that went beyond words, beyond even thought. He looked at her for a long moment before he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“I am Velis,” he said. “I am the last of my kind.”
Meris felt a pang of sadness ripple through her, a rare emotion for one who existed beyond the boundaries of feeling. “The last of your kind?” she echoed, her voice filled with genuine curiosity. “What happened to your people?”
Velis looked away, his gaze distant. “They are gone,” he said simply. “Taken by time, by war, by forces beyond my control. I am all that remains.”
Meris watched him, sensing the depth of his despair. She had encountered many dreams born of sorrow, but this was different. There was a heaviness here, a sense of finality that made her feel as though she were standing on the edge of a great abyss.
“Why do you linger here, in this dream?” she asked gently. “Why not move on, find peace?”
Velis gave a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and empty. “There is no peace for me,” he said. “My people are gone, my world is lost. All I have left are memories—memories that haunt me, that torment me.”
Meris felt a strange urge to reach out, to comfort him. It was an unusual sensation for her, an impulse that went against her nature as an observer. But there was something about Velis’s pain that resonated with her, something that made her want to help.
“Perhaps I can help you,” she said softly, surprising herself with the words. “I am Meris, the Dreammaker. I know the art of dreams, of weaving and unweaving them. I can help you find peace, if that is what you desire.”
Velis looked at her, a flicker of hope in his dark eyes. “Peace,” he murmured, as though tasting the word for the first time. “It has been so long since I felt peace.”
Meris nodded, a sense of purpose filling her. She reached out, her hand glowing with a soft, ethereal light, and placed it gently on Velis’s shoulder. “Close your eyes,” she whispered. “Let me take you to a place beyond sorrow, beyond pain.”
Velis hesitated, his gaze lingering on the barren wasteland around him. But then, slowly, he closed his eyes, his body relaxing under her touch. Meris took a deep breath, focusing her energy as she began to weave a new dream around them, a dream of peace and light.
The darkness around them began to dissolve, replaced by a gentle, golden glow. The wasteland faded away, and in its place, a lush, vibrant forest emerged, filled with the scent of flowers and the sound of birdsong. The sky above them was a brilliant shade of blue, and a warm breeze rustled through the trees.
Velis opened his eyes, a look of wonder on his face. He took a hesitant step forward, as though afraid the scene would vanish if he moved too quickly. But the forest remained, solid and real, a haven of peace and beauty.
“This… this is…” Velis whispered, his voice choked with emotion.
“A place of peace,” Meris said, her own voice filled with a quiet satisfaction. “A place where you can rest, where the memories that haunt you can no longer reach.”
Velis looked at her, a tear sliding down his weathered cheek. “Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with a gratitude that went beyond words. “I have wandered in darkness for so long… I had forgotten what it felt like to be free.”
Meris nodded, a sense of fulfillment filling her. She had given him a gift, a chance to let go of the pain that had bound him for so long. It was a small gesture in the grand scheme of the universe, but to Velis, it meant everything.
As she prepared to leave the dream, Meris felt a warmth in her chest, a feeling she couldn’t quite name. It was more than satisfaction, more than contentment. It was… connection, a sense that she had made a difference, however small, in the life of another.
For a moment, she hesitated, her gaze lingering on Velis as he wandered through the dreamscape, his face filled with wonder and peace. She had been an observer all her life, a silent witness to the dreams and sorrows of others. But now, she realized, she could be more than that. She could be a Dreammaker, not just in name, but in spirit.
With a final, lingering glance at Velis, Meris turned and left the dream, her form dissolving into the ether as she drifted back into the Veil of Slumber. But as she moved through the realm of dreams, she felt a new sense of purpose, a desire to help, to heal.
Meris the Dreammaker was no longer content to simply observe. She was ready to weave new dreams, to guide those lost in sorrow toward peace. And as she journeyed through the Veil, touching the dreams of countless beings across the cosmos, she knew that her role in the grand tapestry of the universe had only just begun.
