Intoxicating and lulling. Enchanting and ambrosial. Those are the words one would describe Dreamflowers, doorways to the Dreamworld. A realm of infinite, blue stoned doors that open up to the dreams and nightmares of slumbering Arlans. A chilling realm where everyone was within reach for Him. A realm where there was no escaping His prying eyes. Frosted, white eyes that saw into Arlans’ deepest desires and fears. A realm where he could cause chaos and kill hope. It is the Dreamworld where Kaolin, or as Arlans call him Death, has ruled smugly on his spiked, frosted throne…until the departure.

***

Kaolin, the God of Death and Sleep, didn’t intentionally create the Dreamworld. Unlike his siblings, it took him a fair bit of time to understand who he was and control his powers. Nothing wanted him to learn on his own of who he was. How flowers would never bloom under his delicate hands like they do for his sister Fer. How lightning nor fire would never appear at the command of a thunderous snap like Skyra and Fry. How his voice wasn’t heavenly and cathartic like his favorite sister, Arra. Nothing wanted Kaolin to come into his own being on his own. To understand he was the antithesis of his siblings’ very beingness.

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Unsurprisingly, Fer took exception to Kaolin. She hated Kaolin the most. After all, she is the Goddess of Fertility. But she also envied him. Kaolin was always the object of Nothing’s undying love and attention. And unfortunately for Kaolin, green has always looked good on the flora Goddess. With the help of her cursing sister Nirea, together, they created Dreamflowers to torment him in his own domain.

It happened when Nothing was away and Kaolin was sleeping. He didn’t feel the tiny pierce of a small dagger into his frozen heart, the only deity to have a sort of heart. An undead one, but still a heart. Fer thought it would have been difficult to pierce, with his frostbitten skin and all. Once it was done, once a piece of his essence was taken at the source, Fer fused the essence with a white rose. She grew gardens of them, hid them away in a secret room in her palace.

It wasn’t until the Hallow War, over forty years ago, when the Gardens of Dreamflowers finally found itself in the hands of Death, or rather Death’s Incarnate. In Arla, he goes by many names. Necro Enchanter. Divinity of Death. Malus. In the history books, though, he’ll be forever known as the Immortal King. But his mother named him Stefan, and he rules the Meadows.