I
2nd of Cylus, 720
Something was new. Different. Strange.
In the darkness of Sybil's dream, their eyes finally opened. Eyes shifting among the inky blackness, they had no form. In this one moment, they were one with something... Something in which they felt the raw potential emanate from. Sybil could feel their brain laced into the darkness that surrounded them, brocaded into an intimate pattern upon the dream itself. Where once there was a fog over their senses, there was now clarity. An understanding. Within the darkness, the chaos of Emea was where it was most potent. At the very least, their dream was... Different. Rather than wet paper, it felt as though it was made of clay.
Controlled chaos was within the dream. It had boundaries that weren't defined by simple mathematics. As their hands reached out, Sybil could feel the sphere of influence shrink. As they drew back into their body, it expanded. There were distinct boundaries, but how they were defined was something that was determined by how much space they inhabited. It was as though they were submerged in a pool of water within a fleshy cavity.
Sybil's mind began to take the clay of the dream. The weaving that connected the base of their skull to the darkness began to create a tapestry, inner machinations beginning to work tirelessly. Sybil's sight was enveloped by nothing. They did not bother to think of anything outside of what was to come. Their mind emptied to allow the thoughts to swim, the very dream itself becoming a primordial soup of raw sensation and images as they entered the trance.
The first to be painted was the dream's sky. Sybil envisioned an orb of light, burning away the darkness. Rather than the very tip of the orb being the brightest, it was the ring around the upper center, bathing the dream in twilight.
Sybil's foot began to touch something. Hard stone. Inky black marble began to sprout out from where their feet interacted with the dream itself. Flecks of opalescence gave it a greyish color as it spread into an octagonal shape.
At every corner, a column of the same stone rose up. Sybil's mind tilted as it slid the design in symmetric fashion. The cage's walls were made out of intersecting slopes of thin rails, never rising above the band of light shining down. There was no roof to this place. The only thing that opened this area to the outside world were two gaping gates: they led nowhere and served no other purpose than as a means of entry into this dream.
Finally, Sybil's eyes opened. Their eyes blinked, as they allowed the amber hue to take their eyes once more, entering another trance. Rather than one of raw emotion and creativity, they paused, mind stalling, gauging the sensation of this place with their own mind. It was... Different. It was... Before this, the connection of their mind to their own dreams felt like papier-mache. Now... It was still wet clay, but it was something else entirely. Something... New.
What was happening? As Sybil's mind slipped through the trance, they couldn't help but stare up at the dark sky. They had... Accidentally copied how the Veil looked to them. But rather than there being glorious fire... Everything was muted. They could feel the boundaries of their dream. This half-exposed cage was... Not the size of a castle. No, the dream itself wasn't even that large. It was roughly the size of a large workshop. And this... They could not push.
The frameworks were in place, as Sybil's bare foot touched the cold stone. The texture was glossy, smooth. Confusing.