You dream.

You dream every day, but it wasn’t often you would remember those fleeting memories, less often would you be aware of The Dream.

Still, it happens enough for you to be aware of commonalities, recurring trends.

Multiple times you dreamed of falling, of your old school surrounded by unreadable faces. Once you dreamed of dying, unable to move as your lungs filled with liquid—blood or water, you don’t know. Can’t know. You woke up before reaching your fateful end.

Never had you dreamed of the end of the world; of a sky so black it smothered the Earth and robbed the atmosphere of its life-sustaining air.

The heat death of the entire universe rested upon your shoulders.

You squirm and struggle, yet nothing moved. Nothing changed. Every inhale froze your innards and stole your breath; every exhale released the precious heat your body struggled to produce. Your breath lingering—the only warmth in existence—only serves to highlight your absolute, desolate Dream.

Former oceans and waves, locked in place for the rest of eternity. Black ice surrounding you—smothering you, stealing your breath, locking you in place till the end of time.

You almost pointlessly waste the last of your heat, you almost breathe your last breath, you almost give in to the black and empty. You feel it caress your mind, grasp your heart in your final hour at the final second.

But you refuse.

You swallow the last bit of air, and deny the hands your heart, your essence. You rather watch yourself burn to ash than witness a pathetic thing steal your flesh. You rather watch the whole world burn in a nuclear hellfire than let those disgusting hands take what’s rightly yours.

Only yours.

You clutch your last ember until it burns your lungs. The flame spreads through your bloodstream, melting your muscle and sinew alike. Yet, you hold the spark as close as possible. You rather see your body destroyed under your own will than live under another’s.

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Your organs dissolve, and your bones flake to ash, all while your nerves fry under the harsh heat. The pain was unbearable at first, but so was the insatiable cold—at least the ember kept the cold at bay. You refused to give up without a whimper. You rather go out in a blaze of glory instead of a pinched candle.

Your body burned, and your soul boiled, until your last shred of self winked out of existence. For a moment, the dark rumbled in victory and the cold snuffed out the last remaining trace of your warmth. Death has come to collect you.

But you refuse.

Freezing puddles of water sat upon the ice in a large crater. Traces of you still lingered, albeit not for long.

The black and the ice worked tirelessly to erase you. You had no hope of competing against an eternal force—

—So you don’t. You work harder, faster.

You take a hold of everything you left behind; your remains and the very evidence of your passage, and you ignite it.

The icy-wind howled and the black shook, all to extinguish your spark, yet you don’t fight their forces and welcome them instead. The wind snatched your last ember, and tried to strangle it in the air.

The light shined bright across the whole frozen wasteland, for it was the only glow in the universe. The only star. Then, it faded into a faint pinprick in the distance as it landed on the ground until it too was extinguished. Once more the dark and the cold—

You ignite the ashes of your ember, and the light it emitted across the globe. In an instant, what was once one spark transformed into a glowing field of dancing fire, gleefully spreading on the ice like dandelions; and you laid in the center of it all. Those disgusting hands couldn’t touch you, no longer.

Your flames spread its beautiful light across the world, and you finally gain the strength to pull yourself together.

The ice gave way to water; at first into a pool, and then rapidly, until the sea met the horizon. The black rumbles above you menacing, but it can’t hurt you in your translucent depths.

For once in an eternity, you're safe. Safe to wonder and safe to observe your enemy. Your embers fly in the atmosphere, creating stars of your influence. The black claws at your stars, but you burn everything their light touches. Just as it tried to claim you, you claim the furthest reaches of the black and empty until the whole sky was filled to the brim with you—

Until it became your sky.

Dreary waves glisten for miles under the immense starlight, carrying you. A breath fills your lungs, and assures you even more; you felt more whole than ever before, you felt like you again.

The Black and Cold

are within your Authority