Endless Dream

Three weeks - Uproar

The storms had gotten worse. The first one had taken out most of the palace's windows and some of the exterior walls. People had to be kept inside for fear of the ivory columns collapsing upon them. The griffons and pale drake that guarded the Palace were forced to flee, fighting to outrun the hurricane to find shelter. Iris didn't have the heart to tell the refugees that they barely made it across the spiralling hills before the storm took them. Iris heard the roars and blood-curdling screams on the zephyr. They used the power of the ring to return them to sand before they succumbed to their wounds.

Mervyn and Lucienne did all they could to repair the damage. Volunteers and able-bodied civilians followed Mervyn's lead and patched the castle up as best they could. Windows were barricaded and covered to stop the hail from getting in, and doors were ripped from hinged to cease the endless slamming of wood in the night. Lucienne enlisted the cleaners to move the books to the lower levels of the library, converting stacks and shelves into makeshift beds for the gathering crowds of refugees. Civilians from all over The Dreaming were crossing the desolate sands to escape the violent storms. Blazing fires spread in the outer lands, decimating houses and destroying homes. They brought food and anything they could carry with them. Soon what little stores they had multiplied and were shared across the vulnerable.

When night fell, the darkness would gather at the edge of the horizon, hovering menacingly in the distance. Iris would march alone out of the palace walls, blazing with an opalescent light. They didn't have Lucienne's head for strategy or Mervyn's skill, but they bore Dream's essence in their chest and the whispering presence of his mind on their finger. The ring blessed them with words of power, feeding them the knowledge they desperately needed to protect their people. As the storms cornered the palace, Iris would use all of their might to shield the palace, covering it in a blanket of thick iron that held the horrors at bay. The chilling winds would bite at Iris, sapping their strength and bringing them to their knees, night after night. Iris would snarl and scream back at the sky with fury, baring every blinding strike of lightning and every thundering roar of the sky to protect the cowering people inside. Every bone in their body screamed for them to give in, to curl up and hide from its rage, but they resisted. Every time they felt their grip weaken or their knees buckle, a sliver of Dream would spur them on. His voice filled their mind and told them to hold on.

Whether it was a figment of madness rolling out from the depths of the opal ring or Dream's will bleeding through the bond, they didn't know, but they wouldn't let him home fall to ruin on their watch. They would live up to the name he gave them, the name they would bear until every ounce of strength had been drained until they were a dried, withered husk.

When the storm broke in the early hours of the morning, Lucienne would find them bruised and beaten, a grey pallor painting their skin. Lucienne would pick them up from the rubble and carry them inside, forcing them to eat and drink to restore themselves between breaks in the violent weather.

The nymph mother, Asaras, would heal what wounds she could. The nymph proved to be a powerful healer and apothecary, tending to any wounded who passed through the towering halls of the palace. Iris had donated their own chambers as a makeshift infirmary for her to manage her patients easily without the other refugees witnessing the horrors of the wounded. Mervyn regularly visited for maintenance, delivering fresh linen and whatever herbs Iris could summon from the charred earth outside.

Word quickly spread across the houses of The Dreaming, spiralling into exaggerated whispers of Iris' prowess. Half the realm believed them to be the second coming of Dream, whilst others accused them of usurping Dream from his realm to place themselves and Lucienne in power. A divide had formed, splintering the factions of The Dreaming and pitting them against Lucienne and Iris. Whilst the lords gathered for a coup, the pair proved a formidable team, caring for the sick and injured whilst readying a powerful defensive force. Iris sometimes feared the librarian's cunning, watching her plot and plan like a general readying for war however they were glad to be on the same side and not on the receiving end of those cold, dark eyes.