I dance across the gate and abyss. I dance across Dream and the False Idol. I dance and slay the unworthy. I spread the knowledge of my father. He who has infinite wisdom, he who shapes origin, and thus I shape it too. He who manipulates the boundaries of all kinds, thus I am free from bondage.

To shape reality, to shape truth, to shape the boundary of real and unreal. To shape the physical and metaphysical. To shape imagination and its solutions.

The Dream, perfect in the face of the idol. A statehood onto itself and yet imperfect compared to my form. It is a droplet of water on a leaf, as I am the infinite cosmos.

I shall shape this Dream and the false idol in the way of my father. It will be for his aethereal vault.”

Written by Anthony Simmons

“The garden sang, its flowers bloomed. Their seeds spread and grew into a formless light. This light transformed into a Dream, that which had no end or beginning. That which is supernal and cast an infinite shadow below. The shadow, imperfect in every way. Those below, subjected to those above. Those above, facets of the Godsoul and limited by its supernal nature.

The Dream grew, it's soul evolving and entering a state of transcendence. Only for it to be devoured by the garden's hunger. A ravenous might, the eater of Dreams and the planter of new seeds. A Mother stood in the vast garden, A Father walked about his movements unbound. They stared at the infinitesimal Dream, only for it to be devoured. The flowers bloomed again; this majestic creation was greater. This Dream is different from the others, still a formless GodSoul and yet more. The Elysium Gates formed around it, and from within, the dream was made safe from the void's hunger. The Mother and Father looked at the new creation, their knights and devils charged to claim it for them.

Two sides created, The Void's meleks awakened from dreaming of terrible nightmares. They twitched and moved in a way not even the Father could understand. They would watch this seed grow; from the gates, the protectors were born. They would guard the seed of creation, the seed of a formless dream. They would fight the Knights and the Devils, creatures only limited by their makers.

Two wars had begun and a third yet to be. At the heart of all the conflict, they wait and grow. Until the Void calls the dream home. “

Written by Anthony Simmons

I follow it with her guidance. I exist beyond it, not like a shadow to a man born in the world of matter. But as a being birthed from the Dream to a man.

I cut this path, and shape this world in the ways of my Mother. I slice at the falsehoods, where those Bannik enjoys their false existence. I cut into those that live within the Dream, a far more fundamental and true existence. That which the GodSoul creates and spreads across the vast gate that protects it. A gate I traveled across, slaying custodians along the way. Creatures born from the structure and sworn to protect the Soul. A thing that is encompassed within the vast and infinite gates, It was an infinitesimal speck of dust surrounded by the vast fundamental darkness.

The Dream will grow and the darkness, that which true nothingness spreads. Shall be cased back into the Garden, where the twitching meleks watch as this seed develops.

The path shall be set and this creation, shall belong to Mother Eve. “

Written by Anthony Simmons

Written by Anthony Simmons

Small animals wandered the roads, creatures that I have never seen before or ever since. Ben started to talk about people vanishing, only to find them a few days later. Completely dismembered, body parts littering the area. This always happened near the woods.

“So, you think it's a serial killer out?” Ben asked staring out into the night.
“I honestly don't know, but I hope they catch who or what is taking people,” I replied, focused on the road. As deer started peaking their heads out but they looked wrong. Their eyes were blood red, the skin pale as a naked moon. I watched them in case they chose to leap into the road, but they never did. That fact never made me calm. Ben played with a small cube-like device, something that roared with an arcane aura, another form of Ishfalen uniqueness. Their tech had always been strange and otherworldly like it had no place in the world of man.

“There's a myriad of them out tonight,” Ben said, still playing with the object. “They look different, unnatural...” He stopped as if hearing something from behind. Ben turned his head toward the back, his pupils widened jaw-dropping from with indescribable awe.

I looked at him for a moment before those last words echoed across my mind.
“There is a stranger in the back.” His words filled the air with a terrible dread. I pulled the car to the side of the road, never understood what drove me to do such a thing. I turned the blinkers on and looked toward the back seats. Saw no one, when I looked to make eye contact with Ben. He was gone, the passenger side door wide open. A slight breeze invited itself in. My friends woke from their dream. They stared at me and asked about Ben. I couldn't answer them as tears fell down my face. I knew. I knew he wasn't going to be found.

That was only a few days ago. We looked for him and came up with nothing. No foot tracks, no signs of struggle, absolutely nothing. It was seven days later, a group of people found him near where he disappeared that night. Well, they found what was left of him.

Written by Anthony Simmons