The Golden Dream

Light and dark at the beginning and end of the universe; this is all there was and ever will be. Time is a construct of humanity and has no sway over the machinations of the stars, though it marches ceaselessly on to the death of those shining lights above, and below in the eyes of its stardust children. And yet dreams hold a power of their own. Souls are the breath of existence and the gods of us all. A soul, infused with the power of a dream, is an unstoppable force. It drives lone entities to topple empires and change the face of nations. Dreams spark political uprisings and civil change; they can set lives ablaze in a torrent of fury and revenge. Just as one child rises from his humble ashes on the wings of his golden dream of a better world.

Up he rises, to overcome all others who would see him fail. Rising to obtain glory in the form of an arrow, a soul-piercing power bestowed upon mortals by gods. He just longed for simple desires: peace, love, hope--but a dark warring bloodline cursed him with pain and sorrow. Any other would crumble from such a hand dealt by fate, but his dream bloomed into an unwavering resolve that sears all opposition. A resolve of such staggering magnitude is expected to quickly waver into one of megalomania, and yet, his resolve built its foundation on a crucial element: love.

Through love, there is creation, and thus it was with his soul. A spark of love and the flower bloomed to life in his hand--the animal's heartbeat began at the first eye-opening. The green of life flowed steadily from his hands. With this, the Creator fought his final fight and deigned his foe to live and die a thousand lives in as many worldlines.

Though powerful, death weighed on his soul. He felt each life he took as it left, but he could not hold onto them. He knew if, given the chance, people could be good. And so he rose the bodies of the fallen, having had enough of fate's cruelty. This chance he bestowed upon his enemies. He was generous but not a fool, only one chance would be given. And as for the one he usurped, there would be no mercy.

The Stardust Child, son of GOD himself, fought and banished the Devil from the face of reality. He builds his kingdom in gold and rules over The Beautiful Country. All is in his grasp, all possibilities available to him, no door shut against him.

And yet, there was an ache deep inside him, one that not even he was cognizant was there. An ache of absence, of need. Forced to live in this world without guidance, without compassion. His soul wanted nothing more than that warmth. His unspoken wish granted by my power. I reached into the void and plucked out the warring soul and pried it from its curse, its disease. From dust to dust again, and born of earth and clay once more. The man arose from his ethereal slumber to act once more upon the stage of life.

Enlightened by the knowledge of the Stardust Child, he roamed the Earth in search of his son. He will find the path to that end more difficult without the disease. Cities no longer fall before him, souls do not readily submit to his will. But his will is strong yet, a strength he has passed through blood. He knew not where his feet led him but at each crossroad, his heart pulled him in the right direction, a compass to the Creator. The child knows not of these happenings in the world. He remains ignorant of the extent of the power he possesses. He travels the stars when he sleeps and holds galaxies in his palm but retains none of it upon his waking.

To be a god—this is the Golden Experience.

I am Life and Death reimagined.

I am the Strength of Will itself.

I am the Knowledge of Sages.

I am the Golden Dream.

I am Requiem.