2. The Sands
...when he spoke, he did not give answers. He gave reflections.
The Celestial was not quite the heavens—but close.
Dreamweaver woke on the rocky shore of the Sea of Simplicity, their body weightless, their purpose gone. The fields they had once tended were ashes, and without them, who were they?
A hand reached out.
A figure shimmered—first a web of starlit connections, then a man, dressed in a top hat, suit, and cane, like a magician plucked from a dream.
He called himself Mirror Man.
They walked together along the cliffs, and Dreamweaver spoke—of loss, of emptiness, of a self that had only ever existed in service to others.
Mirror Man listened. And when he spoke, he did not give answers. He gave reflections.
The two of them sat upon The Sands, whispering into the night. Dreamweaver had never been seen so completely, never been understood like this before. Their connection felt destined.
But something was happening.
With every truth Dreamweaver unearthed, every hidden thought made known, Mirror Man’s constellations ebbed beneath his skin—turning, instead, to glass. His body was becoming a mirror.
Mirror Man knew he was on borrowed time and turned to Dreamweaver.
“I see you.” He lay his hand on her cheek, Dreamweaver covered his with her own hand. “It’s about time you were able to see yourself.”
Mirror Man took Dreamweaver’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles before looking to the stars reflected upon the still ocean before them.
Leaning into Mirror Man, Dreamweaver drifted to sleep, feeling, for the first time, whole.
When they woke, The Sands were empty.
Only a top hat remained.
Mirror Man was gone. Dreamweaver felt her heart break.
He had given her what they needed—a way to see themselves.