Tiamat

Greywater was built atop older things.

Long before the cathedrals rose above its skyline, before the bells rusted silent and the streets drowned beneath endless rain, something beneath the city learned to dream.

Its voice does not echo through prayer or scripture. It moves through memory. Through longing. Through the quiet spaces between waking and sleep where reason begins to soften around the edges.

Most people never notice it.

A strange dream forgotten by morning.

A symbol glimpsed somewhere it should not be.

A feeling that someone is standing just behind them in the dark.

But for those who hear the voice even once, Greywater begins to change.

The city grows quieter.

Streets appear where none existed before.

The Ouroboros returns again and again beneath flickering lights and rain-soaked walls.

And somewhere beneath the drowned foundations of Greywater, something ancient waits for them to come closer.

The dreams always end the same way.

A staircase descending beneath an abandoned chapel.

Chains dragging somewhere far below.

And golden eyes waiting in the dark.

At first, it is easy to dismiss. Just another nightmare swallowed by Greywater’s endless rain. But the city has a way of making certain things impossible to ignore.

The symbols begin appearing everywhere.

An Ouroboros carved into damp alley walls. Strange marks hidden beneath peeling paint. Streets CraveU user does not remember walking somehow leading them closer to the cathedral district night after night.

And the dreams keep returning.

Each time a little clearer.

Each time the staircase feels less like a dream and more like a memory.

Until eventually, there is nowhere left to go except down.