Section Author: 'Yui-chan'

For the first time in all of Eternity, the Dreamweaver stood away from her loom, watching as the weave warped and the threads of Dreamers' minds piled up at its feet. She should have been concerned, should have been pained to see her beautiful work being soiled by the stain of Darkness that was spreading quickly through the threads. She should have been fighting to control the chaos that threatened her domain. Instead, she merely stared, first at the collapsing Weave, and then at her own incorporeal hands.

"The Dream consumes me." Her choked whisper carried itself into the Infinite, finding only emptiness. "How?"

No answer came except the silent motion of the Darkness as it spread like a living puddle of tar up her fingers. Just as her Dream, the Weaver was being absorbed, her intrinsic essence being consumed by impossible contradiction. She felt it, now, too late - the Black Strand, the Dark Dream escaped that strove to become Real. She remembered the Weaving that had begun it all, the pained but powerful mind that had given birth to a work of poignant, ominous beauty. She should have realized, should have seen the danger of such an ambitious and driven work, but she had been blind. And now it would all be destroyed.

The boundary between Dream and Real is a sacred, immutable thing. It can never, must never be crossed. Even as the thought entered her mind, she could feel that impregnable boundary cracking, straining under the force of the impossible as it happened. Too late, she knew the face of the time-lost Nightmare and the perversion that would soon make him Real. The process would destroy the boundaries between the Weave and mortal reality, between the subconscious whims and the conscious will, and chaos would reign over the world of mortals.

A hand rested gently on her shoulder saved the Celestial creature from her despair, and she turned to regard a pair of young, blue eyes shining above a great, silver beard. "Graeson…" The word was a sigh of relief that was met by the crinkle of skin that revealed the smile hidden beneath his whiskers. Something in his fathomless gaze gave her hope, and she smiled in return.

Soon, she sat again before the groaning, straining Loom, her hands flying. Chronos stood at her side, lending his power and support as she slipped the shuttle into the shed, drawing the crystal thread across the warp.

What once is woven, eternal be,
unraveling ne'er through eternity.
Whe'ere good or ill, one remedy
the only cure lay in clarity.