The Weaver sat down, panting. This place was strange, even stranger than his strangest dreams. It was so barren, and without oranges or reds, everything looked subtly wrong. And the only thing which he had met were the Dark Ones. Desri-na had been explaining the existence of her and her siblings to The Weaver as they walked. The Dark Ones had been sent by Baz’Auran to watch over the dreams of mortals. But something had changed. Their eldest sister, Revaew-na, changed. The dreams she sent to the mortals she had charge of grew darker and darker, twisting into foul nightmares. Their eldest brother tried to stand against Revaew-na, but she slew him, and stole his eyes. Since then, the Dream-Time had been losing its color, from which the six siblings had made dreams. Each of them had become twisted and dark, nightmarish versions of themselves, ruled over by Revaew-na. And the dreams of mortals were no longer a safe haven. The Weaver was deeply troubled by this. In the White City, dreams were some of the most precious things he had. That a spirit sent by his father would corrupt them so made him angry indeed. But not knowing where Revaew-na lived, The Weaver could do nothing but march on, Desri-na at his side, carrying the tooth of Kolorki-na, and the feathers of Verades-na.

The sun raged, and the sands rattled. Far in the distance, a graveyard of mighty beasts stirred, and a roar could be heard across the empty plains. For only two of the Dark Ones remained, their brothers slain by either their own hand or by The Weaver, and their sister a servant of the moon once again. And within a cave far, far away, a pair of burning red eyes brooded and schemed.

The Fourth Tale of The Weaver

In the days before the coming of The Weaver, and our people’s triumph over the Dark Ones, our people feared death, for unlike the men from who we sprung, our death was permanent, and unconnected to the grand cycle. This is the Fourth Dream-Tale of The Weaver, who saved us from the cruel pallor of death.

Having at last passed through the worst of the desert, and successfully slaying Verades-na the Hawk, The Weaver and his companion Desri-na came upon a small town on the edge of the desert. The Weaver was perplexed, for aside from the Dark Ones, he had seen no signs of life in the Dream-Time. But Desri-na explained, saying that this town was once a grand city, wherein lived thousands of dreams. In the days before the corruption of the Dark Ones, dreams had lived as true people, with aspirations and lives of their own, but Revaew-na had devoured the dreams she ruled over, and those the eldest brother had ruled before she slew him, and so each of the Dark Ones had followed in turn. And The Weaver grew most sorrowful, for he had met the dream-people when he dreamed back upon the Great Star, and had enjoyed their company.

But The Weaver saw nothing that could be done for the fallen people of the Dream-Time, so they continued forward. The pair spotted a strange mass on the horizon, and Dersi-na grew afraid. But The Weaver was curious, and went to go find what the shape was. Upon arriving in a great valley, The Weaver saw. The mass was the bones of a massive creature, long dead and bleached white by the sun. All around the bones were the bodies of slain dream-people. And as The Weaver approached, Desri-na cried out, and the bones of the great beast rose upward, and let loose a great roar. They were the bones of a predator, a failed branch of Baz’Auran’s creation long dead even before the bleeding of the Great Star. For this was Etrom-na, who brings the fear of death to mortals and causes them sleeplessness. And in Etrom-na’s eye rested a bright orange light which gazed down at The Weaver with purest hatred.

But The Weaver had grown bold from his adventures, and challenged Etrom-na. The beast’s claws lashed out, and The Weaver danced about, looking for a weakness in the bony beast. But none could he find, and Etrom-na was swift in his cold anger. A long, sharp claw entered The Weaver’s head, and plucked out his right eye. And The Weaver howled in pain, clutching his face. Etrom-na laughed in the gravelly voice of the sands, and spoke. “Weaver, you trespass on sacred ground. Leave now, before I send you to your final resting place, along with my treacherous sister.”

The Weaver would have none of this, for he had grown to care for Desri-na in their travels, almost as much as he valued his siblings. So he withdrew to the top of the hill, and with his good eye, looked at the bones of Etrom-na once more. The Weaver gazed, and a plan began to form in his mind. For the body of a predator is a tapestry, woven by the great Baz’Auran. And if a weaver can weave a tapestry, then a weaver can also unweave it.

The Weaver and Desri-na waited just beyond Etrom-na’s sight until nightfall. They then slid down behind the great bone form, and examined the spine of the beast. Ligaments and tendons, dehydrated and preserved by the heat of the desert, went up and down Etrom-na’s back. The Weaver located one which held the head to the spine, and taking Kolorki-na’s tooth, began to cut through. It was a long, hard task, for the tooth was not as sharp as it could have been, and the ligament was old and tough. But, just before the sun rose, the final slice was made. Etrom-na let loose one last scream of fury, as his head fell to the valley floor, breaking open upon one of his own claws. Orange light burst forth, joining the first rays of the rising sun. And as The Weaver and Desri-na looked on, an astounding thing happened.

The dream-people began to rise. No longer in bondage to Etrom-na, their spirits were free to return to the eternal cycle. One in particular sought out The Weaver, for it was the soul of the eldest brother sent to guard the Dream-Time. He and The Weaver spoke at length about the queen of the Dark Ones, Revaew-na. “My eldest sister can only be slain if each of her siblings unite against her. But with four of them slain, I do not know how this can be accomplished.” The Weaver thought, and an idea came upon him. “Eldest Brother, does there remain anything of your true body?” “Only an ancient branch, for my form was that of a great Tree.” “That will be perfect.” The Weaver took the ancient branch from Eldest Brother, four solid bones from the body of Etrom-na, the feathers of Verades-na, a lock of hair from Desri-na, and the tooth of Kolorki-na. He tied the four bones and the tooth to the top of the branch, making a head which could be used both as a club and a spear. He then tied the feathers to the weapon, in a style he had seen some of his Father’s spirits use when they wished to travel from their bodies. Thus were the five sibilings of Revaew-na brought against her. Eldest Brother directed The Weaver to her cave. Desri-na remained behind in the village, for dream-people were returning, and they needed someone to guide them.

This is the Fourth Tale of The Weaver, who freed our people from the Dark Ones. Rejoice, for he connected us once more with the Eternal Cycle, and gave our spirits back to his sister Avyra.