Under the orange sky of dreams, the children of Gaia usually ran joyfully through fields of everlasting flowers, where their happiness flourished. They played with tiny creatures born from their own imaginations: candy-colored foxes that hopped like rainbows, winged cats soaring through the skies, and colorful birds whose laughter echoed like the cheerful chirping of crickets at night.
But that night, the sky suddenly changed…
It turned deep purple.
The once cheerful flowers began to whisper, their soft voices eerie, as if warning of something unseen—something lurking in the darkness.
"Mother… I'm afraid to sleep tonight…"
"I dreamed that someone touched my eyes from behind."
"Someone pulled my leg while I was dreaming."
"The air smelled like smoke… and I couldn't breathe. It felt like being trapped in choking fog."
"There is a large shadow, Mother. It always tries to come closer, and its voice shakes, as if it comes from the depths of the night."
"I saw all my friends disappear, leaving only the sound of crying in the darkness."
One by one, the children of Gaia woke up crying silently. Their bodies seemed healthy, yet their eyes had lost the small spark that usually shone after a peaceful sleep. "Big brother, I feel as if I have been left alone in a dark place, as if no one is searching for me," whimpered a child, voice barely audible. Some even… did not wake up at all.
Within the subconscious space connecting all the Gaia children's dreams—known among the Voidwrights as the Somnus Expanse—appeared a figure: tall, thin, with three horns and five eyes, wearing a cloak made from unborn skin membranes. It moved silently, like a shadow lurking in the depths of night, seemingly ready to prey on the innocence within dreams. "Mother, will we be trapped in this darkness forever?" asked another child, ears catching the sharp and haunting footsteps. Each step was like poison, slowly turning the dream's blossoms rotten, fading their once vibrant colors into a sorrowful gray.
That was Lamashtu.
"Where is that child..." she whispered, her voice laced with hatred and longing.
"Where... the heartbeat stolen from me...?"
But she heard nothing from the fetus of Fitran-Iris. All she found was a door firmly shut, holding back all hope within, as if imprisoning every dream that should have been free. "I want to go home, to a place of peace, not this dream that relentlessly pursues me," sobbed a child, detecting the sharp, foul stench that pierced his nose, making him nauseous and yearning for the safe silence.
Angrily, Lamashtu screamed—
Yet her scream was not merely a sound. It was a wave of nightmares, a dark surge that infiltrated the dreams of hundreds of Gaia's children, corrupting the peace they were supposed to enjoy. From afar, another child's cry echoed, "My bones feel shattered as she approaches, like being trapped inside your own body," conveying the unbearable pain as the weight of darkness drained every ounce of hope from his soul.
The first child was trapped in a nightmare, feeling confined inside a wooden coffin, overwhelmed by fear as the cold earth pressed in from all sides. He sobbed in panic, wondering why the world outside was so silent. "Where is my mother?" he whispered, his voice muffled by the thick darkness that enveloped him. "I want to get out… please, don't leave me alone."
The second child awoke within his own reverie, where his mother—a familiar figure who should have radiated love—had transformed into a terrifying creature, smiling as it devoured his head. Her face masked in grim shadows conveyed helplessness. "Mother, why are you doing this?" he cried in panic, feeling an icy chill seep deep into his bones. "I don't want to die… I only want your embrace."
The third child fell silent in their dream, watching the sky melt into a terrifying figure that embodied pure horror, whispering repeatedly, "You were born too beautiful; I must tear you apart." They stared with tear-filled eyes, trembling with fear, "What do you mean? I don't want to be destroyed!" The shadow's voice pierced their soul, spreading a deep pain that lodged itself in their chest.
Hundreds of such horrifying dreams surged within the darkness of their souls, buzzing with a paralyzing panic...
Gaia, overwhelmed by a growing sense of dread, began documenting the events as a terrifying epidemic.
During an emergency gathering in the Crystal Hall, the tense atmosphere thickened, swallowing every corner of the room with uncertainty. The silence seemed to burn away all sound until one brave sorcerer dared to break it:
"This is not a curse. This is not a disease. This is... a dream invasion. And there is one name found in ancient texts that perfectly matches this pattern: Lamashtu, The Womb-Eater."
Lady Caerwyn, the sorceress guardian of Gaia's sacred children's line, felt her blood freeze with fear. The pulse at her temple throbbed violently as the clear threat made her keenly aware of the deep danger looming ahead.
"If she has already breached our dream world… it meansa mother in Gaia is harboring something that must never be born."
Confused and overwhelmed, Iris felt a sharp pain piercing through her head—as if thousands of children's voices, weeping over their doomed fate, vibrated painfully within her mind. Instinctively, she understood that these voices came from the fetuses trapped within seals, resisting Lamashtu, and now Lamashtu was exacting her vengeance on the other children, turning them into victims of the hatred seeping through the darkness.
"They are fighting against the dark! They are trapped in a biting shadow," a small voice screamed within her mind, trembling with fear and reflecting a deep sense of despair.
During restless nights, as the stars trembled anxiously in the dark sky, she whispered in her heart:
"Forgive me, children…
I only sought to save one life… But now the curse spreads, infecting a hundred more."
"Mother, I see terrifying faces! They keep calling me and demanding…" another child whispered, their voice quivering like leaves in the wind, as if convinced the shadows would emerge from the suffocating darkness.
From within the seal, a soft yet pain-filled voice answered faintly, as if reaching out from the depths of darkness:
"I will rise... if Mother can no longer hold them back alone."
"I don't want to do it," another child lamented, "they say they will take everything I love if I don't return."
In the small town of Eirenval, where the light of hope began to dim behind gray clouds, a child named Nila started speaking in her sleep. Her mother, sitting anxiously at the bedside, thought it was nothing more than ordinary dreams—gentle whispers of dusk. But after the third night, those dreams turned into a powerful voice, leaving a deep impression in the darkness of the night.
"Y'tahmaah… Lir-a-mai… Kaahlith…"
The unknown language echoed through the darkness, like a lost song weaving a terrifying melody amidst the whispering night wind. Each time the voice was heard, the spiritual candles in the protective temple extinguished by themselves, snuffing out the gentle light that had once brought comfort, now replaced by an enveloping darkness. Protective symbols on the walls of his house began to fade, as if erased by invisible hands filled with malicious intent and hatred.
"I saw a large shadow in the corner of my room," Deni said, his voice trembling with fear. "It had red eyes staring at me like flames burning in the dark, consuming all hope within me."
Reports were immediately sent to the center. The Gaia Council convened at once, their hearts heavy with deep anxiety. In the tense atmosphere, they discovered that the fearful words repeatedly appeared in paintings created by other children, weaving a mysterious and increasingly disturbing web.
"I heard whispering voices, as if someone was calling my name in the middle of the night," Lila whispered, her face as pale as paper. "It felt like cold hands were tracing my neck, drowning me in an unexplainable fear, as if my life was being threatened."
All of these were variations of an ancient prayer to Lamashtu, a chant long forgotten but now awakened again in the stillness of the night.
"Sometimes, I feel trapped in a space that never ends," Riko said, his eyes staring blankly into the distance, as if seeing something unseen by others. "The walls tremble, as if surrounding me and locking away every ray of light," he added, his voice hoarse with panic.
In the grand Gaia Hall, Lady Caerwyn, the guardian leader of the children, stood with a commanding aura. Her voice was cold, almost emotionless, yet it sent a ripple through the tense atmosphere with the weight of her words:
"Someone has opened a rift between the womb of the world and the womb of the ancient beings."
"And the only one capable of doing so is... the one who once merged with the entity that betrayed both light and darkness."
All eyes turned sharply to Iris, who stood upright at the edge of the room like a frozen statue carved from marble. Her entire body appeared calm, yet the tension on her face spoke louder than words. She neither denied nor defended herself—she simply stood there, immersed in an intimidating silence.
Her white clothes, which usually symbolized Gaia's gentle hope, now resembled an unburied shroud, signifying something darker and more terrifying.
"In my dream, that dark shadow gripped my throat, silencing my scream," a child's voice trembled with fear. It was Rina, her eyes shining with tears. "I could feel its foul breath, as if it was taking me to a place beyond time."
"All I could see were those glowing red eyes," said Andi, his hands shaking like dry leaves caught in the wind. "They follow me through every corner of this world, and no matter how hard I try to run, my feet feel trapped in black mud that drags me deeper into darkness."
"The tunnel twisted and turned," added Vina in a soft voice, as if every word slipped from her lips was a ghostly scream. "Screams echoed from its walls, as if all the pain and sorrow were desperate to spill out, haunting me in the shadows of the night."
One council member's voice rang bitter and resonant through the Gaia Hall's walls, which seemed to absorb every breath, questioning:
"Queen Iris… you are the mother of our nation. But is it true that you are also themother of something that should never have been born?"
In her quiet, stifling chamber, Iris sat gazing at the mirror—but she did not see her own face. Beyond the reflection of her eyes, a shadow of pointed horns emerged, hidden deep within a crater of fear trembling her soul. The seal on her womb began to burn like bars of fire—a scorching pain piercing through her, as if something was clawing to break free, tempting the darkness and the overwhelming uncertainty that gripped her.
"Mother, I see shadows in the darkness," a gentle child's voice echoed, "something lurking and hunting us, peering out from behind the shadows."
He felt a cold dampness touch the skin at the back of his neck, as if invisible hands were gripping him tightly. Amid the night's chaotic wind, a whisper of fear escaped his lips, "They are coming to capture us in the dead of night."
A bitter memory surfaced from another child, filling the space with a panicked voice, "But I heard their screams, voices that shook the soul, filling the air with unbearable fear." With heavy breath, he continued, "That pain reminded me of the moment I fell into darkness, surrounded by uncertainty."
The third child added with a trembling voice, echoing like the night wind, "In my dream, I was trapped in a dark labyrinth with no way out. As I ran, every face on the walls watched me with empty stares, as if witnessing me fall and never rise again."
In late-night dreams, the child trapped in the womb whispered softly, each word filled with deep fear:
"Mother, they will kill us."
Iris whispered quietly, her heart caught between hope and fear, creating a tense and uneasy atmosphere:
"If I give birth to you, the world will burn.
If I do not give birth to you, the world will still burn."
Torn between conflicting feelings and with tension hanging heavily in the air, she began to write a letter to Fitran. Yet, every time her pen touched the paper, theancient womb's wordsseemed to come alive, dancing between the ink and forming sentences that poured out uncontrollably:
"He is the child of twisted light and embraced darkness...
His blood is the key."
"In my dreams, a black shadow chases me," whispered a small voice, echoing through the darkness as if disturbing the calm. "Laughter that tightens my chest with panic."
"I see a terrifying figure, with burning fiery eyes and a foul stench like poison," added another child, their voice trembling with fear. "It is always closer than I think, lurking within the shadows."
"When I sleep, the cursed walls scream, breaking the night's silence," cried a third child, their voice trembling like dry leaves in the wind. "A coldness creeps into my bones, as if trying to steal my soul and leave only darkness behind."
Nila, the little girl from Eirenval, began to speak in two contrasting voices, like day and night meeting at the horizon's edge. Her first voice was soft and cheerful, reflecting the innocence of a hopeful child, while her second voice emerged with a mysterious depth—cracked and heavy, as if from a dark corner hidden within her soul. With her small hands, she drew winged fetus shapes on the paper, her wild imagination bringing to life creatures caught between life and death, attempting to express fear and longing through flowing lines. She also painted Iris's face using her mother's menstrual blood, blending love and suffering in a single meaningful stroke; each red dot symbolized the complex and profound connection between the gift of life and the pain that often accompanies it.
One of the approaching spiritual guardians, growing increasingly concerned, broke the tense silence with a gentle tone, as if trying to bridge two worlds:
"Who do you see in your dream, Nila?"
With a deep gaze, Nila replied, her voice trembling with meaning:
"I see the Mother of all wombs. She wants her child to return."
"Sometimes, I fear she will leave forever," she whispered, her voice barely audible like the wind brushing against the leaves. "The dream is like a black fog that envelops everything, hiding her traces that I can never catch."
The Gaia Council quickly convened an internal meeting, the tension hanging heavy in the air like an impending storm. Among them was a proposal to seal Iris's womb permanently, a decision met with stern faces but hearts full of doubt. An even darker suggestion to execute before birth echoed among the members, casting a chilling aura of death that enveloped the room in suffocating uncertainty.
"I saw a looming shadow in the corner of the room," one of the children replied with a trembling voice, "it towered like a ghost, and its voice cracked like dry branches breaking in the wind." Wild whispers began to spread, shattering the remaining calm, suggesting that Iris was no longer Gaia—but the embodiment of the first destruction, a terrifying monster destined to destroy the balance of the world that had been preserved for so long. "There was fire in my dream," another child said, gasping for breath, "It felt so hot, consuming everything around me, as if I were trapped in thick, choking black smoke."
Amid all the tension, hidden within dark and mysterious shadows, Lamashtu laughed, her voice shaking with arrogance.
"A mother's love... is the most sacred path to the apocalypse."
And the dreams kept coming...
"I kept hearing terrible voices, like dark whispers calling my name from the depths of darkness," a child said, eyes wide with fear. "A cold spread across my entire body, as if faceless hands were dragging me into an awful darkness."
"The nightmare is always the same," added another child, his voice trembling as it pierced the stillness of the night with fear. "I see shadows floating in the air, like wild flames twirling fiercely, and I can't scream, even though my heart feels like it's about to burst."
"I run, but my feet seem stuck in muddy ground that holds every step," the third child's voice quivered, holding back tears ready to fall. "Every time I try to turn around, the shadow comes closer, and I can smell a sharp stench, like burning trash, growing more terrifying in the darkness."