Chapter 29: The Coronation

Chapter 29: The Coronation



"People create gods when they wonder why things happen, and do you know why things happen, it's because gods made them happen,"

"So, who came first, gods or men?"

-Hypnos to Morpheus on the mysteries of the divine.

Finally, the time has come.

With certitude, Hypnos thought, thrumming the armrest of his throne in the heart of Dreaming. He was fully present in his realm for the epochal event that was about to occur. There could be no mistakes, no errors, no slights, for he was facing the most important crossroads of his path-he was about to open his realm for all of creation.

The primal realms allow second-generation primordials to gain firm control over the concepts they embody, allowing their power to grow freely over time without their efforts until they eventually ascend to the level of original primordials. They also reflect their perception and conception onto their own concepts, allowing them to be modified according to their will and imagination. They were also at their strongest here, to the point of being unbeatable even by beings mightier than them.

Consequently, their realms were their lifeblood.

And his realm was Dreaming.

Dreaming existed on a metaphysical plane between reality and unreality. Because all minds dream, his realm was like an infinite curtain that overlapped the mind world, only to be felt and entered by sleepers to spend the other half of their lives.

In the long run, dreaming was also infinite in size and proportion, allowing it to cater to the endless dreams of all beings in creation, from tiny bacteria to mighty primordials.

Yes, Hypnos was resolved to monopolise the concept of dream for himself; it was the most critical step on his journey to becoming the Primordial of Dream. He had an instinctive feeling that if he went down this dream path, he would confront a lot of enemies, despite the fact that there was no Primordial of Dream in creation. But he didn't dare forget his mother and father's eerie words: he needed to keep "Them" away from the astral realm, which he now believes was the colourless ocean at the endless edge of his dream.

Anyway, Hypnos stopped worrying about it for the time being, focusing on the matter at hand.

His realm was complete-he had meticulously laid the groundwork and framework.

Then there were his living creations: dreams and nightmares. He made a lot of them over the last year, each with a specific purpose in dreaming, such as guiding dreamers to face and overcome their fears and inspiring dreamers by giving hope to even the most insignificant of their ideas and aspirations.

Those were just a few of the many tasks assigned to his living creation. They were vital to the operation of his realm-if the Dreaming were a human body, they would be the red blood cells-so he had taken great care in creating them all, giving them each a name, an identity, a purpose, and a home.

To be honest, Hypnos found himself enjoying creating-having his ideas come to fruition, his dreams come true-through his own powers. It was truly exhilarating. He suspected he would never get tired of it.

In any case, Hypnos had summoned the Dreams and Nightmares to two realm gates-the Gate of Horn and the Gate of Ivory-for the opening. They obliged with zeal and trepidation, as it was their first day of work.

He'd also summoned Mnesmosyne back to Dreaming for the occasion, as she played an important role in his realm as well. In his realm, the Titan of Memory had built her Hall of Remembrance.

Within it was the Pool of Anameisis, created by Hypnos. The pool was programmed by him to attract the memories of sleepers and trigger the birth of dreams. It was absolutely vital to the operation of his realm, and he had appointed Mnesmosyne to oversee it.

Anastasia, the Librarian, was already at her station in the Great Library, preparing herself for the books of dreamers.

All in all, everyone and everything was where they should be, ready and primed for the epochal event.

Hypnos reclined on his throne and decided to give it all a final check, and so his senses expanded into his infinite realm, analysing everything within a fraction of a second, and the result was...

All was well.

Hypnos took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was about to happen-the opening of the primordial realms would cause quite a stir in creation; it would be more appropriate to describe it as a declaration of power and ascension. Thanatos, his brother, caused a great uproar by declaring himself the Death of Cosmos and opening his realm-Tenebours. The Lord of Dream looked ahead at his infinite realm with a settled expression on his face. Finally, he tapped the armrest of his throne.

Immediately, an unseen wave of power swept into Dreaming, even through the mind realm, passing into the material and spiritual worlds, as well as the infinite realms of primordial beings and other cosmic beings.

And the whole of the cosmos shimmered with unreal light as though, for a moment, everything in Totality was nothing more than a dream in the mind of Hypnos himself.

The Primordial of Sleep felt his perception expand into all of creation in this infinitesimal moment. He immediately began to feel contradictions within himself-he was everywhere yet nowhere; he saw everything yet nothing; the knowledge and secrets of the cosmos filled his mind yet escaped him; his very existence was real yet unreal.

He was the Dreamer.

Hypnos suddenly understood. The answer came from nowhere, like a whisper from the Khaos "Herself",and "She" didn't stop there:

He was the Dreamer-A Paradox of Creation and An Error in Cosmos; The Bringer of Chaos and the Breaker of Order; The Monarch of Sleeping Marches and the Ethnarch of Unreality;

Just as he dove into endless information, he felt a tinge in his perception, and his eyes slightly widened. 'It's already happening,' he reasoned. 'I didn't expect...'

In an instant, Hypnos vanished from his throne in a flash of dreamy light.

Hall of Remembrance.

Hypnos materialised in the abode of Mnesmosyne.

"My Lord!" Mnesmosyne turned from the pool of Anamnesis, noticing his arrival and then his

solemn expression. "Is there a problem?" she inquired, her gaze trailing back to the starry

pool of memories.

"Watch with me," Hypnos said simply, joining her beside the quaint pool. Mnesmosyne heeded tentatively, pressing down her doubts, and then together they gazed at the shimmering pool in resounding silence.

And it was soon broken; the pool of Anameisis began to stir restlessly as some memories

began to brighten, gradually outshining others completely. Mnesmosyne glanced over at them-they were the memories of humans from a mortal tribe in Western Africa known as the Akan. It was chaotic and mostly meaningless, but they all had

one thing in common: they all showed mortals praying to Ananasi, the God of Stories and son

of Nyame, the supreme God of the Sky.

Though upon investigation into the memories of the tribe, Mnesmosyne concluded that

Ananasi was just a god made up by the Akan tribe since she didn't even find a trace of divinity in any of them.

The pool began to shine brilliantly, capturing her complete attention, and she witnessed

something she would never forget for the rest of her eternal life: the memories of the Akan

tribe began to move towards the swirling centre of the pool, pushing other mortal memories away from it.

The Akan memories shimmered as they swirled down into the whirlpool, and slowly but

steadily, pieces of memories were broken away, leaving only the facets that involved Ananasi,

and they all began to coalesce in the heart of the pool of Anameisis.

"No..." Mnesmosyne stumbled back in realisation.

With that, all of the mortal memories that entailed Ananasi completely merged together,

sparking the birth of a Dream.

A brilliant star emerged from the unreal waters, emitting a blinding divine and sacred light,

and it began to expand and morph into a divine being with long spider-like legs and hands.

"Oh Gaea..." Mnesmosyne watched on in utter horror, her trembling hands covering her agape

mouth.

The Lady of Remembrance couldn't believe it-or rather, refused to believe it. She wished it

was all a dream, which was cruelly ironic given what was happening in front of her.

A God was being born from the Dream of Mortals!

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