Lord of Mysteries: The Dream That Waits

Yeaia Nolas awoke with a sharp inhale.

Their mismatched eyes—one silver, one burning red—snapped open, adjusting to the dim light of the room. It took a moment for their mind to catch up, for reality to solidify around them, but the lingering sensation of ink and unraveling paper still clung to their thoughts like a half-remembered dream.

This wasn't just a dream.

It was a memory trying to return.

A memory that shouldn't exist.

They sat up slowly, their robes shifting between formal and casual in an almost lazy refusal to settle on a single appearance. The air was thick, heavy, as if the dream had followed them into the waking world.

Then, they felt it.

A presence.

Someone else was in the room.

"You said something interesting just before you woke up," a familiar voice remarked, smooth and tinged with amusement. "Something about not being erased?"

Yeaia turned, already knowing who it was before they even laid eyes on him.

Klein Moretti.

The Fool Who Was Never Supposed to Be.

Except…

His gaze was sharper now.

More knowing.

More aware.

Yeaia hesitated. Something had changed. He had changed.

Klein tilted his head, studying them as if seeing them for the first time. "What exactly are you?"

---

The Ripple in Reality

Elsewhere, in the heart of the Evernight Church, Archbishop Anthony Stevenson sat at his desk, his fingers resting lightly on a sealed letter that had been delivered to him under unusual circumstances.

There was no sender.

No name attached.

Only a single, cryptic phrase written on the envelope:

"Do you remember Yeaia Nolas?"

Anthony felt a chill crawl up his spine.

The name tugged at something deep, something buried in the fog of his memories.

And yet, when he tried to recall…

Nothing came.

Not a single face.

Not a single event.

Just an overwhelming sense of absence.

Like a book with missing pages.

Like a story that had been forcibly unwritten.

His grip on the letter tightened.

This was not natural.

He had spent decades serving Evernight. He had seen miracles, horrors, and the very fabric of reality shift under divine will. He knew when something wasn't right.

And this?

This was wrong.

Anthony rose from his seat, his crimson vestments flowing behind him as he strode toward the grand cathedral halls. If there was a force powerful enough to erase a name from history itself, then there was only one place to seek answers—

The Sea of Collective Subconscious.

If a name had been forgotten, then surely, the Goddess would remember.

---

The Fool's Suspicion

Klein Moretti(?) leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest in idle thought.

Yeaia Nolas sat across from him, silent.

He knew something was off.

There were gaps.

Not just in his memory, but in existence itself.

It was subtle, like a book missing only a few pages—just enough to make you doubt your own recollection. But Klein was no ordinary reader. He was The Fool, a god who stood above the gray mist.

And if even he could not remember Yeaia clearly…

Then something was very, very wrong.

"I don't think you were meant to exist," he said finally, watching Yeaia closely. "At least, not in a way that we're supposed to understand."

Yeaia's expression didn't change, but their eyes flickered—red and silver burning like dying embers.

"You noticed too late," they murmured. "But at least you noticed."

A silence stretched between them.

Then, Klein chuckled. "You say that like you expected me to forget you completely."

Yeaia smiled, but it was not a happy one. "Maybe you already have."

And Klein?

For the first time in a long while…

He didn't have an answer.

---

The Name That Refuses to Fade

In the depths of the Evernight Church, Anthony Stevenson stood before an altar of black stone, whispering prayers into the darkness.

The air shifted.

The shadows moved.

And for a brief moment—just a flicker—

A voice, soft and distant, whispered in reply.

"…Yeaia Nolas…?"

Anthony's breath caught.

He heard it.

The Goddess spoke it.

The name was real.

And that meant…

Someone, somewhere, was trying to erase it.

The ink was being scraped from the page.

The story was being undone.

And now, they had to find out why.

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End of Chapter 54

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