There is nothing but void, darkness filling every corner, until a single atom floating among the sea of black collides with another. A blinding explosion rips through the gloom, and from its center, beams of light streak towards the four cardinal directions of the sky. The orb of light begins to turn upon its axis, the four rays cycling in unison about their source. In the blink of an eye a star is born.

Other spheres form within the touch of its radiance. In a single breath the galaxy takes shape, and but a heartbeat later, the universe springs to life, “All this,” the voice issues from a woman so ancient that only her will keeps her from vanishing into the ether, “Exists inside every particle within the dream realms, an infinite reality where there are no bounds, save those of the human mind. Each dreamwalker is a collection of these immensely powerful particles, thus making their own capabilities just as vast.”

Her thin lips briefly form into a smile, “There must always be balance, and so where there is light, there is also darkness. Thus the realm of dreams is inhabited by fades. Though,” she pauses to look directly into the eyes across from her, “Every creature is capable of good and evil. It is our own actions that define us and the choices we make that shape our destiny.”

Her hands are clasped together, and as she extends those weathered palms they begin to open, revealing only a grain of sand. It begins to glow just as the star did, and it begins to grow. Upon closer inspection of the microcosm of light a shape can be made out, a human shape curled into a fetal position. It grows with the sphere of light and soon a face can be made out, Eume’s face, “She is but the smallest part of the greater whole, and without her fellow walkers, she is nothing.”

The orb begins to fade until there is another burst of light, which seems to spring forth from Eume’s heart, “But together, just as the particles of this world can bring forth life, so too are those that have banded together capable of marvels both terrifying and beautiful to behold.”

She closes her hands, the light only vanishing when her hands are clasped together once more. The old woman’s piercing green eyes are set deep in her features, but their uncanny likeness to those belonging to Eume is undeniable, “Be you warned, walker,” she extends a bony digit, “There are far worse things to fear than the darkness. It has already begun.”

The void consumes all once more as the Obelisk begins to sing its song, and the riddle slips into the minds of those under her shadow, the last line echoing until they rouse from their slumber.

All Father’s Crowned Calls Forth The Bound
Whilst Sister’s Sin Comes Marching In
Blue Shadow Falls To Still Her Calls
Then Fires Of Yore Shall Burn Once More
And Tenth Of Ten Begins Again