In the other place, there was only peace. It had always been this way, throughout all the Yesterdays since the dawn of time, and would remain such even after Tomorrow had come and gone. It was Dream, and of all the things that existed, only Dream was forever.
Nestled amid the blossoming trees, all ripe with delicious fruit, and the winding brooks that wound across the land, a handful of the most venerated beings in Nezumi culture sat. These were the most flawless and powerful of all Nezumi, those blessed with the strength and the will to cast off the chains of death and become something more. At the moment of their death, each had become a Transcendant, a spirit that dwelt in Dream and watched the tribes from afar, offering their wisdom and their guidance when the heroes of today needed it in order to fend off Tomorrow. Dream was the only paradise that existed since Heaven had fallen and crushed the Nezumi empire.
Or was it?
Even as the Transcendants went about their business, some walking slowly through the idyllic wilderness while others sat and meditated in the same manner as the humans, there was the faintest sound of thunder. Each of them looked up, recognizing the sound from their mortal lives, but it was not a sound meant to exist within Dream. There were no storms here.
Until now. Black clouds roiled in the distance, obscuring the horizon. The darkness pulsed and surged like a living thing, moving at incredible speed and surging through the distant wilderness, obscuring everything in its path as it rushed toward the paradise of Dream. The Transcendants spoke rapidly to one another, using the language of the spirits. Their tone was one of alarm and incredulity, for nothing like this had ever happened before. What did it mean? What might happen?
One of the Transcendants looked up and fixed his gaze upon the watcher. He shouted, pointing to the distant storm. He shouted over and over, but his language was not clear. At the last moment, the spirit seemed to understand, and switched to the Nezumi tongue at last "Tomorrow is coming!" it shouted. "Tell the others! Tomorrow is coming!"
The dream had started innocently enough, with a vision of Dream. It was the sort of dream that all Nezumi longed for, a picture of the paradise that might await them if their Name was strong enough. Those first few times he had seen Dream, he had wakened refreshed and bursting with energy. It had been wonderful. But the visions soon began to change, becoming mofeflflrinous arid more - frequent, until now he saw them every night when he slept Each time, the vision went a little longer, and he saw the storm grow a little bit closer. Each time he woke up more and more afraid. He worried that the strength of it was too much, that one day he would awaken and be driven mad by the experience, his Name broken and ruined forever.
"Ok'kantich," a gruff voice called.
The scout turned his back to the voice and took up his weapons, hoping for a few more moments to compose himself. "I am here," he answered.
The brutish Mytchokan stirred in the warren behind him, his massive shoulders scraping against the tunnel walls. The Crippled Bone warrior was larger by far than any of Ok'kantich's tribe, and the tunnels had been dug with the smaller Tattered Ear Nezumi in mind. To his credit, the warrior had never complained, not in the many days since he arrived to help with the battle against the purple humans. The human scouts will be here soon. We must be ready."
Ok'kantich clicked in agreement "You are certain they will appear today?"
The warrior nodded. "They come every three days. I think they forget what they have seen the past two, and then come back to make sure there is nothing unusual. But who can say for certain? Humans make no sense."
"The horses will smell us," Ok'kantich said. "They will know we are there."
"We will wait high in the trees," Mytchokan replied. "We will drop the heavier branches on them, then drop down and finish them off. The horses will not smell us so high in the air. The flower-scent is too strong in the forest" The warrior stopped and stared at the scout for a moment "Are you well? You seem... sick."
"No," Ok'kantich said. "No, I am fine. Let us go."
"Yes," Mytchokan said. To war."