This is... a Dream...?
Her mind resisted, trying to hold onto the comforting weight of sleep, but the sensation only grew stronger, dragging her down into darkness. It was like being swept away by a powerful current, relentless and unstoppable. She wanted to scream, to fight against whatever force was pulling her, but her voice was lost, swallowed by the void.
Then, abruptly, the sensation stopped. Her body felt weightless, suspended in a strange limbo. Slowly, cautiously, Iris opened her eyes.
What she saw stole the breath from her lungs.
She stood at the base of an enormous tree, so vast that its roots and branches seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. The trunk was thick, ancient, and alive with a faint glow that pulsed with a rhythm all its own. Runes, intricately carved into the bark, shimmered with a soft, otherworldly light. It took her a moment to realize what she was seeing, but deep in her gut, she knew. This was no ordinary tree.
This was Yggdrasil, the World Tree of Norse mythology.
Iris blinked in awe, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. The roots of the tree twisted and coiled like massive serpents, disappearing into the ground, while its branches reached far into the sky, too distant to see their ends. The air around her felt thick with magic, the ancient power of the tree humming softly in her bones. Everything about this place seemed impossibly vast, as though it connected realms beyond her comprehension.
She took a hesitant step forward, her feet sinking into the soft, moss-covered ground. Every step she took felt as if she was walking through an ancient dream. Her mind buzzed with questions—how did she get here? Was this a vision? A dream? But none of those thoughts seemed to matter as she was consumed by the overwhelming beauty of the place.
It was mesmerizing. The glow from the runes illuminated the space with a gentle warmth, casting long shadows that danced with the faint breeze. The tree itself seemed alive in a way that defied explanation, as if its very essence held the weight of time and fate itself. A deep, inexplicable connection to the tree stirred within her, as though some part of her had always known it existed, waiting for her.
As she stood there, lost in the wonder of Yggdrasil, a voice—soft yet commanding—echoed through the air.
"Iris..."
Her name, spoken in a tone so enchanting and melodic, it made her skin tingle. It was the kind of voice that could soothe an aching heart or stir an army into battle. Iris turned, her heart pounding in her chest, trying to locate the source of the voice.
"Iris…" The voice came again, closer this time.
There, emerging from the shimmering light of the tree, was a figure. A woman, cloaked in ethereal beauty, her long, golden hair cascading down her back like rivers of sunlight. Her presence radiated a divine grace that was impossible to ignore. The woman's eyes were a piercing blue, as if they held the secrets of the cosmos themselves, and her expression was one of quiet wisdom and strength. She moved toward Iris with a slow, purposeful grace, her every step barely disturbing the ground beneath her.
Iris felt her breath catch in her throat. She didn't need to be told who this was—somehow, she just knew. This was no ordinary dream figure. This was a goddess. And while the woman didn't introduce herself, a name whispered in the back of Iris's mind: Freyja.
"Who… who are you?" Iris asked, though she already suspected the answer. Her voice was barely above a whisper, trembling with awe.
The woman—Freyja, it had to be—smiled softly, her eyes filled with a gentle, knowing light. "You have felt the stirrings of your destiny, haven't you?" she said, her voice a blend of mystery and warmth. "You stand at the threshold of a great journey, Iris. The world is in danger, and it calls out to you."
Iris blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. "In danger? What do you mean? I… I don't understand."
The goddess extended her hand, and as she did, the air around them shimmered. Images flickered into view—realms, cities, and people Iris didn't recognize. But there was darkness, too, creeping at the edges of each vision. A growing shadow, consuming everything in its path. The ground shook, skies turned black, and the cries of the dying filled the air.
"The world stands on the precipice of catastrophe," Freyja said, her voice filled with sorrow. "An ancient darkness stirs, seeking to consume all that is good and true. It will come for you, Iris, and for the empire you hold dear."
The words sent a chill down Iris's spine. "What do you mean, it will come for me?"
The goddess stepped closer, her gaze intense but full of compassion. "You are the Heir of Aesir, Iris. A descendant of the gods themselves. And with that bloodline comes great power—power that this darkness will seek to destroy. But do not fear."
Freyja's hand moved gently, and three distinct figures appeared in the vision before them—warriors, powerful and resolute, each bearing a different weapon. "The Guardians of Aesir will protect you. They represent the strength, wisdom, and courage of the gods, and they will stand by your side."
Iris stared at the figures, her heart racing. Guardians? Protect her? It didn't make sense. She was just a girl—a princess, yes—but not some fabled warrior or chosen one. "Why… why me?" Her voice shook as she spoke, a mix of confusion and fear. "I'm not a hero. I don't have the strength to face whatever this is."
Freyja's gaze softened, and she placed a hand on Iris's shoulder. It was warm and steady, grounding her in a way that no words could. "You bear the Mark of the Triad, Iris. It has been written in the stars since the beginning of time. You are stronger than you know, stronger than anyone. But your path will not be easy."
Iris swallowed hard, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to tell this goddess that she wasn't the one for this burden. But deep down, she knew that wasn't true. She had always felt something within her—something powerful and untapped. And now, standing here in the shadow of Yggdrasil, she felt that power more clearly than ever.
Freyja's voice turned soft, almost maternal. "Do not fear the trials ahead. The Guardians will come to you, and a child, born of holy gold and heroic lineage, will repel the evil that surrounds you. You must gather your strength, Iris. You must be ready."
Tears pricked at Iris's eyes, the weight of Freyja's words pressing down on her. It all seemed too much—too overwhelming. How could she carry such a burden? How could she, a mere princess, be the key to saving the world?
Freyja's hand gently lifted Iris's chin, her eyes locking with hers. "You are not alone, Iris. You have the strength of your ancestors, the power of the gods, and the heart of a warrior. You will find your way."
Iris bit her lip, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. "But… what if I fail?"
The goddess smiled, a small, comforting smile. "You won't. You are destined for greatness, Iris. And no matter how dark the path may seem, you will rise above it. Trust in yourself."
The vision began to fade, the light of Yggdrasil dimming as the goddess's figure grew more distant. "Be strong, Iris," Freyja's voice echoed, as the world around her started to blur. "Your journey has only just begun."
And then, just like that, the dream ended.
Iris bolted upright in her bed, her heart hammering in her chest. The room was dark, silent, save for her labored breathing. She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself. It had felt so real—the tree, the goddess, the vision of the world crumbling into darkness.
Her mind swirled with the weight of the dream. The Heir of Aesir. The Mark of the Triad. Guardians and ancient darkness. It was too much, too overwhelming, but somehow she knew this was more than just a dream. This was a warning.
Then in the spur of moment, several words, images, tones, weaves of memories, powerful emotions, and all kinds of information that the brain could obtain gushing in her brain like a tsunami.
"S-STOP!!!!" Iris shouted as she hed her head.
.
.
.
Finally.
It stopped.
With one different thing.
"What... Was I dreaming again...?"