The Dreamer and the World of the Mists

The Dreamer came to a world full of mists. Where She came from, we can only wonder. We do know She was fleeing from something, and hid Herself within the mists of this world. There She stared out into the eternal haze which no eye could pierce and imagined what life there may be just outside Her gaze. And so, safely hidden, She slept, and She dreamed of the world as it would be beyond the mists.

She dreamed of a world full of life and light, of creatures great and small, of great forests and mighty deserts, of towering mountains and crystal clear streams. She dreamed of sentient races of all kinds, smart and mighty, wise and proud, inventive and curious. And from from Her hope and love for Her dreamed peoples came the Gods, fragments of her personality that took up the roles of guides and protectors.

But Her mind was not entirely at peace. She could not shake the feeling that beyond the mists all sorts of nightmares lurked. As She dreamed, those nightmares took form. Savage creatures, being of pure hate malice, and corrupting influence took the world. And from the dark corners of Her mind came yet more Gods, but these with the goal to torment and destroy those protected by the others.

And thus our world was born, and so long as the Dreamer slumbers it shall continue to be. Her dreams are everything we have ever been and everything we shall ever know. They are the passage of the Ages, of our greatest golden eras and our darkest moments. Her hopeful dreams can bring us to great glories, while Her nightmares drive us to the brink of extinction.

All things must come to an end. One day, the Dreamer will awake, and when She does everything we are, everything we ever have ever been, will suddenly cease to be. And the Dreamer again will be alone in a world of mists. Perhaps she will choose to dream of us again.