The sky bruises into a permanent, weeping violet as the Dreamtide breaches the shores of the waking world.
Logic is a shattered mirror, reflecting a thousand faces that were never human, while the laws of physics dissolve into the whims of the void.
We are no longer the dreamers; we are the playthings of entities who find our reality as flimsy as paper.
The mind breaks before the body can fail, and as the last echoes of sanity drift into the indigo mist, the violet void makes our home its own
...and the wheel turns, laughing into the dark.