Before time had a name, before any star dared to shine, Aether existed — untouchable, formless, nameless. Everything came from it: the gods, the galaxies, thought itself. But even that which never truly began must one day come to rest. And when Aether finally closed its eyes, it did not vanish… it dreamed.
The Last Dream of Aether was not a farewell. It was a seed left in silence. A memory shaped as light. What emerged was not destruction, but the deepest act of love: the surrender of its own heart to the void.
The Flame That Rose From Nothing
The creative essence, cloaked in golden fabric, floated at the edge between existence and forgetting. With its face hidden, it released a silent flame — not of fire, but of condensed memory. That flame rose, spun over the abyss, and became the final visible expression of its presence.
Unborn Visions
In that moment of cosmic stillness, visions began to surface — not as words or fixed images, but as waves of meaning and prophecy. As if the universe, upon receiving Aether’s last breath, awakened memories that had not yet happened.
The Future That Haunted the Dream
Aether, within its own silence, witnessed a distant future, still uncertain, but deeply marked by imbalance. In that vision, chaos walked as king among forgotten worlds. Order had been broken. Ancient realms crumbled, consumed by war, betrayal, and fear.
Suffering was not an incident — it was the language of that age. Terror did not hide — it walked with long strides, as if it had already won. There was no clarity about when or how it would come to pass. But it was there — inside the dream, latent, like a wound in time yet to bleed.
Ruins, Shadows, and the Ember of Hope
Scattered images formed and unraveled: towers engulfed in flames, moons eclipsed, constellations vanishing from the sky. Cities once built with the light of creation now lay in ruins, abandoned, echoing with the emptiness of those who had departed without legacy. In that reality, time seemed hesitant. Hope was a dying ember, flickering alone.
The Voice That Cannot Be Heard
And then, amid this prophesied chaos, a voiceless presence swept through the universe — not in sound, but in feeling. It spoke not of what was, but revealed what might still come. And among the dust of stars and the silence of collapse, something ignited:
“May the dream become the flame… and the flame, creation…”
The Warning That Still Echoes
The Last Dream of Aether was not a lament. It was a warning. A prophecy shaped in light. An echo from the beginning of all things, meant for those who walk toward the end having forgotten the origin.
For even now, many live beneath the shadow of that dream. And when time reveals what Aether saw, only those who still believe in the light will be able to kindle it again.
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