THE LAST KING OF EMBERWYLD : THE FINAL DAWN
Chapter 6: The Dreamer’s Return
The world changed the next morning.
Kaelen felt it before he saw it—a shift in the air, a weight on his chest, a whisper in his ears. The sky was still blue, the sun was still warm, the flowers were still blooming. But something was different. Something was wrong.
He walked to the window.
The stars were gone.
Not hidden by clouds. Not faded by dawn. Gone. Erased. As if they had never existed.
Hope stood beside him.
“The Dreamer is waking,” she said.
“The Dreamer is awake.”
“How do you know?”
Kaelen looked at the sky.
At the emptiness.
At the darkness.
“Because she’s already started.”
They gathered in the longhouse.
The throne was still there—his throne, the throne of the Last King. But it felt smaller now. Less important. The shadows in the corners were deeper, the light from the windows was dimmer, the air was colder.
Lyra was there, her red hair bright against the gloom. Thomas was there, his hand on his sword. Elara was there, her staff glowing faintly. Hope stood beside Kaelen, her brown eyes steady.
And in the center of the room, a woman.
She was young—younger than Elara, younger than Thomas. Her dark hair was long and straight, her white dress was simple and clean, her bare feet were pressed against the stone floor.
She was the Dreamer.
She was the god.
She was the beginning and the end.
“Hello, Kaelen,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You’re not welcome here.”
“I’m everywhere. I’m everything. I’m the dream that dreamed you into existence.”
“Then un-dream me.”
The Dreamer laughed.
It was a beautiful sound—warm and bright and full of joy.
“I can’t. You’re too real. Too stubborn. Too alive.”
“Then leave.”
“I can’t do that either. I’m part of you now. Part of your world. Part of your story.”
Kaelen gripped the Duskblade.
“Then I’ll cut you out.”
The Dreamer looked at the blade.
Her eyes were black—depthless, ancient, hungry.
“You can try.”
She raised her hand.
The world went white.
Kaelen was standing in a field.
Not the field of his childhood. Not the field of the nightmare. A different field. Empty and cold, covered in ash, beneath a sky that was neither day nor night.
The Dreamer stood before him.
“This is the place where dreams are born,” she said. “The place where I have been sleeping for a thousand years.”
“Why did you wake?”
The Dreamer looked at the ash.
At the emptiness.
At the nothing.
“Because I was lonely.”
Kaelen’s heart stopped.
“Lonely?”
“I have been alone for so long. Longer than the first king. Longer than the door. Longer than the world itself. I dreamed the first king to keep me company. I dreamed the door to give me purpose. I dreamed the nightmare to make me feel.”
“And what did you feel?”
The Dreamer looked at him.
Her black eyes were wet.
“Hunger. Fear. Regret. Everything the first king felt. Everything the nightmare felt. Everything you feel.”
“You’re not a god. You’re a child. A lonely child who doesn’t know how to ask for help.”
The Dreamer’s face twisted.
“I am not a child.”
“Then prove it. Stop hiding behind dreams. Stop feeding on fear. Stop trying to end the world.”
“What else can I do?”
Kaelen walked to her.
He took her hands.
Her skin was cold.
“You can live. Really live. Not as a dream. Not as a nightmare. As a person.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Then let me teach you.”
The Dreamer’s eyes flickered.
The black faded.
Beneath it, there was brown.
Warm. Human. Hopeful.
“You would teach me? After everything I’ve done?”
“You didn’t do anything. The first king did. The nightmare did. You just watched.”
“I created them.”
“You dreamed them. There’s a difference.”
The Dreamer’s tears fell onto their joined hands.
“I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“No one deserves kindness. That’s what makes it a gift.”
The field began to change.
The ash turned to grass. The emptiness turned to sky. The nothing turned to light.
The Dreamer looked around.
“What’s happening?”
“The nightmare is ending,” Kaelen said. “The dream is waking. You’re becoming real.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know. But you don’t have to be alone anymore.”
“Will you stay?”
Kaelen smiled.
“I’ll stay. As long as you need me.”
The Dreamer closed her eyes.
The light consumed her.
And when it faded, she was gone.
Kaelen opened his eyes.
He was in the longhouse.
Hope was beside him. Lyra was beside him. Thomas and Elara were beside him.
The Dreamer was gone.
The shadows were gone.
The light was back.
“What happened?” Hope asked.
Kaelen looked at the window.
At the sky.
At the stars.
“The Dreamer is sleeping,” he said. “Not the sleep of nightmares. The sleep of peace.”
“Will she wake again?”
Kaelen was silent for a long moment.
“Yes. Someday. When she’s ready. When the world needs her.”
“And then?”
He took Hope’s hand.
“Then we’ll be ready too.”