Dreams from a Seer—In a Sea of Lies
When you've seen a world where your god rules all unopposed and feared by all, and you leading the gospel in a sea of faithful—what could not be possible for you to believe?
Yet despite what I witness, despite seeing the beginning of it all, I fear I'm nothing more than a puppet in a dream and I don't even know who pulls my strings.
In the visions my lord gave me power and freedom, and my sight saw all that could be seen—so why am I alone and blind in a cave with the outside surrounded by nothing but shit among the trees?
—Nora's first sight on the things that could be
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She was tired of having to bathe near the composite sites, where the smell was worst, but the scorn she saw from further downstream—mockery for being lower class—got old. She wanted some peace, and surrounded by the smell of shit was the closest she could get to it, as most preferred to mock others like shit rather than dwell in it.
Walking along the river's edge, hoping for a spot with less smell, she noticed the scent faded ever so slightly—not from a breeze. She looked and noticed what seemed to be a mound in the distance. The angle was sloped just beyond a tree that kept it mostly hidden, but from this angle she could see it. She didn't like exploring the forest much; nobody did unless they were scouts paid to do so. Monsters could exist even here, though she doubted they'd come this close to their city and a spot that smelled like shit. But why tempt the goddess to make her life worse when she was already at the bottom of luck?
But she couldn't help wanting to see where the mound led. Maybe there would be wild berries she could pick, or herbs to sell. If lucky, it wouldn't be worth much, but it would be something.
The mound was also a cave when she went exploring—not very deep but open enough for her to explore. It was wonderful; the angle blocked the smell and she finally knew peace among the cool earth, a scent more pleasant with hints of root mixed with water and earth.
She could get used to this and decided to make this part of her new routine.
Weeks passed with the cycle of her coming to this cave in her free time, mostly when she was forced into shit duty that she hated and seemed always assigned to her. It was an easy excuse to be away for hours unseen, claiming to wash away the smell when really she was hiding here. Not that anyone ever sought her—not even her mother.
She wondered if this could be her life, maybe her new home? It really wasn't a bad space for a fire and a simple bed. It could work—her mother didn't want her anyway. She was just worried what would happen if she stayed away too long, and if they would take her cave. She had no rights, and even though it wasn't much, it didn't take much for others to want what you had.
She wished she could see anything to help her know what would happen.
A surge. Power flowed through her, flushing her body in a jolt that made her shiver in fear and pleasure at the unknown feeling. Her vision went blind with pressure of building light surging forward beyond her eyes. She would have screamed in panic at the loss of sight, but she was no longer there.
She was home, seeing her mother spitefully talking to herself: "My daughter thinks she can live alone for months, leaving me, and I'll do nothing while she abandons me. She will learn she has nowhere to go."
The vision shifted, pulling her to a new place—her mother talking to other drow women: "It's true. I followed her to the hideout in the forest. She's built a home in a cave. It's a worthy spot to take for a few coins. I'll take you there."
The vision shifted once more, pulling her down into her cave where unknown people were beating her, confused how it came to this. They were throwing out the few items she had in the cave—simple trinkets that gave her joy, items she knew yet had never seen before. She had no memories of acquiring them, nor understood how so much time had passed. Now she was being dragged and thrown to the ground outside the cave, the scent of deep earth pressed against her face—proof this was real. "This is our cave now. Never come back here or we'll beat you. We're second-class citizens and it's our right to lay claim to land to use."
She watched them, unsure how she lost everything she had. She'd escaped from life with her mother just to be forced back. And how did she see things she wasn't there to witness, but was? She never left the cave, did she? Even this felt weird... like a dream?
The ground shattered and she was pulled once more.
She gasped back in the cave, drained and flushed all the same. It was so real—what caused that? How? If only for a moment she felt she was elsewhere, even lived a fragment of life that could not be. Her mother's words held truth; she felt so much time had passed. What led to that dream place? Her desire to see?
She looked around—just an empty cave. The fragments of the people who found her and took her cave was all just a dream? She scouted outside for the lost trinkets they discarded in disdain, but all that met her was the trees and wet earth.
She went home fearful of the time that had passed, yet when she finally got her mother to speak with anything other than disdain, it seemed it was still the present. No—it was present. She'd just seen a potential future that could be. So she could not leave and live in the cave lest it come to pass... but she could still visit and see what she could see.
Weeks passed in frustration—no visions, no overwhelming sight, just solitude. Not that it wasn't still a blessing, just a bit anticlimactic after the first sight that took her beyond. Maybe it never happened and she just fell asleep.
She wished there was another god beyond the cruel light's disdain. Maybe there was? She wondered: was there a god who would love the lost and broken and accept... me?
She was afraid to hope, to believe, after weeks of nothing. But a desperate pull, a longing so deep she could not help but want to see: "Is there a lord for me?"
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The world shattered faster than before. No buildup, no shift—she was just there, staring at books, smelling their pages with passages she'd read countless times. A priestess praying to their lord like so many times before. A brief scent of clean air offered such clarity. The silk robes gently brushed her skin as she moved to make sure all was well, walking out of the temple to greet the morning mass.
She was under no obligation to offer any salvation or prayer—she was blessed, long since earning her place as a seer. Some warriors would come to her for guidance on what to hunt, others seeking better ways to serve the lord with their devotion. Even more, the fearful, hoping to know what to do to avoid the lord's wrath.
She ignored them, enjoying passing through the dark halls. They would not have her attention today. No, she wanted to see a memory more personal—one often debated among the scholars after eons of serving.
What was our lord's birth? And who was he before ruling all? It was taboo, and to even try to see it would draw ire. She'd long been blind to any sight of such events, yet if the most faithful could not even look to know the truth, how could one say the event even existed?
She knew it was foolish—leave the past alone. She was happy and free with all she could ever want. But she wanted to see, to know an origin of what started and led to her being free. What was your birth, lord?
This is just another vision, she told herself. I've done this countless times before.
But as the pools of darkness formed before her eyes, as tunnels into unknown worlds and unknown timelines came to be, she became disoriented. Odd... I've done this countless times. Why would seeing bother me?
Was it because she chose divinity itself to witness? Perhaps... she would keep it brief as this was fate's way of saying beware.
A sea of worshiping monsters, all calling out, all reaching for their lord: "You are our hope. Embrace our love, O Lord."
She watched, confused. This doesn't feel like a vision of what could be. This feels... off.
"I wanted to see you, Lord, not this," she found herself saying aloud.
A voice—distant, broken, confused—spoke from the darkness: "Who are you?"
Her heart stopped. In all her visions, never had someone spoken directly to her. She was an observer, a witness to what was or could be.
But this is just a vision, she reasoned frantically. Perhaps I'm seeing a future where I serve more directly?
She laughed nervously. "No, he's not speaking to me yet…" If he was, she wanted to be proper to her lord. "You need only ask, Lord, and it will be done."
"As to your question… I am just one who wished to bear witness to your birth."
But something was wrong. The voice—it was so broken, so unclear. Not at all like the powerful lord she knew from her memories of serving.
Of course, she realized with relief. This must be a vision of his early days, before he came into full power. That's why he seems uncertain.
Yet as she watched this vision, everything seemed fragmented. Pieces she didn't understand. The very air around her lord seemed broken, and she felt compelled to help—but that was impossible. You cannot alter a vision, only bear witness to what might be.
Unless...
A terrible thought crept into her mind. What if this isn't a vision of the event at all?
"You're fragile, so close to breaking, so unlike the stories, it seems."
The words came unbidden from her lips. She could sense something was killing him, some light burning him from within. Why would she see him as wrong when he gave so much?
"It makes no sense… But I'm trying to help your mind find its way."
This can't be real. This has to be a vision. I'm seeing a possible future where I help guide him in his early struggles.
Yes… that works, it makes more sense. I can even see the light that broke him.
"From what little I've seen, the Light only knows how to purify or destroy darkness, but you, our Lord, walked a different path. Not all that walk among the dark are mindless."
She wasn't sure that made sense, but she wanted her lord to know why she even tried to see this—to know him. Maybe that's why the vision shifted so much and let her act? It was her desire to do so?
"It seems that was how you were birthed this day."
Wait. The thought hit her like ice water. How am I helping a god exist the day of his birth?
"What happened to me?" the lord asked, and his voice was filled with such genuine confusion and pain.
"Forgive me; that was cruel, Lord." The words flowed from her without conscious thought. "Chaos birthed your creation; therefore, chaos shapes you and causes confusion."
How do I know this? In my memories—in the temple—the scholars never agreed on his origin. Yet I speak with such certainty.
A brief pause.
"Maybe that's why we even have this connection—you transcended it all and knew my intervention. You even named me, after all."
The terrible realization began to dawn more with each breath. My memories of the temple, of serving for eons... when did that happen? I live in a cave. I'm nobody. I have nothing. Yet she tried to hold true to the vision.
The voice grew quiet. Was it his mind that caused these pauses? Or merely the distance in this muddled state? She was unsure as the voice spoke on once more.
"The Goddess saw only the corruption, not the intent. She mistook your final act of devotion for an abandonment of the Light when you tossed the crystal. Proof that the Light is blind and indifferent to others' will. That is why we needed you, Lord. Now and forevermore."
Tossing the crystal? What crystal? How do I know about a crystal? I wasn't there... was I?
"It's why… impossible as it may be, I'm trying to guide your mind back from a vision I'm witnessing and alter what has already come to be. The Light shattered you, trying to deny your birth; we always embraced it."
Guide him back? Back from what? And why do I speak as if this is happening now, not in some vision?
A pause in the sea of the void. She was unsure if she was even still there.
"Your birth is muddled, even to my sight. I fear I may be too late. I cannot reach you beyond my voice. Or if any of this is real to me."
Her mind reeled. If this is happening now... if I'm actually speaking to him during his birth... then everything I remember is...
Another brief pause before the voice, sadder, went on.
"We—I assumed you were already born. You were always with us, from what I remember, but that can't be…"
The full weight of impossibility crashed down on her. I remember serving him for eons. I remember a temple, power, respect. But I'm in a cave. I've always been in a cave. Those memories... were they dreams? Visions of a future that required his birth to happen first?
Could it be I'm somehow helping shape his birth? Impossible... Unless…
The memories feel so real. But they can't be real if he's being birthed now. Unless...
The contradiction shattered her understanding. How can I remember eons of serving him if he's being born now? How can both be true?
She wept, the duality of truth and impossibility tearing at her mind. Am I witnessing his birth, or am I helping cause it? Are my memories real or dreams? If I'm helping birth a god, then everything I knew was a lie. But if my memories are real, then this can't be his birth.
I cannot be bearing witness to your death when I sought to see your birth. What is happening? I'm nobody in a cave. There was no god yet. But I remember serving him. But he's being born now. But I remember...
She sensed him—his confusion, his pain, his desperate need to understand. He was breaking apart, the Light shattering him piece by piece. And she was the only voice in his darkness.
The hunt? Why would he hunt those who would worship... me?
The paradox was too much. She tore at her flesh, trying to deny the shifting vision and feeling of eons lived and no time passing, the collapse of everything she thought she knew.
Their connection faded.
Yet among the pain and torrent in her mind, she felt his touch—gentle, soothing, like comforting a scared child. It will be okay, she felt. He did exist, and he was real, and finally she was able to rest.
Knowing Abaddon was with them. Had always been with them. Would always be with them.
Time is not what I thought it was.
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She awoke to stains of blood on the cave floor, a very faint scent. Groggy and confused—what was this?
She had no wounds, but the blood was clear. Memories of birth, of serving in places that could not yet exist... none of it made any sense.
Did I help birth him? Do my memories of the future create the past? Or do my memories of serving him reach backward to ensure his birth?
She sensed more than heard the faint shift of shadow at the cave's entrance. She looked up, confused, to see him—an unknown drow, well-dressed in leather unlike her grey robe. A second-class citizen and a scout? Or was this his cave?
She wasn't sure how to act. He could beat and rape her, leave her for dead, and it would be a blessing. Yet he stared, seeming unsure how to act—confusing her more than her mind already was.
"Sorry, I'll go. Did not mean to intrude."
He was showing mercy? And was sorry for her? Madness.
Yet as he turned to go, she panicked. She was scared, alone, and not even sure what was real anymore. "WAIT!" She started to reach out and fell forward, not realizing how weak she was. He didn't look back but did pause.
After a moment he finally spoke: "Word from the light elves—unknown magic being used among the lower class. I was sent to find its source. Be careful you're not caught up in it." And he left with that. She was alone once more.
Unknown magic? They knew.
So there was truth to what she'd seen. But how much? She would never know. She would have to let it end here. Maybe... maybe she could dream of it again and it would make more sense? Even with the madness, it was a good dream—being free.
Or maybe the dream was real, and this cave is the lie. Or maybe both are real, in different ways. Maybe time isn't a line but a circle, and I am both the observer and the cause, the servant and the creator.
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She opened her eyes, returning to the present. Tears fell. Ah, guess I can still cry. It just takes longer.
The cave, like so many times before, was a comfort. But now each time it became less so. Even with that dream showing so much, it felt hollow. She knew Abaddon was real—she'd talked to him since that dream. It's how she was named... or was it? Was it just more denial in a sea of lies?
Maybe this will be the last time she comes here. She'll see how things go in the world above.
She really wished the vision had shown her Row's future. It would make it easier to focus on this life and be happy, knowing what was to come. As she watched the distant forest outside the cave, her last thought was: Please be safe, Row. I did not see your future, and I fear a world without you in it.
But perhaps... perhaps not seeing is its own kind of mercy. Perhaps some futures are meant to be lived, not witnessed.
Dreams from a seer—in a sea of lies. But what if the lies are just truths we cannot yet understand? What if the dream is the most real thing of all?26Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnFjf6rS5ym
and then Add to home screen.