All of this has happened before... and it will all happen again.
The dreams. Murky, half imagined things at first, forgotten before eyes have even opened.
Dreams of a murdered Hierarch.
Dreams of a dark haired young woman, a feral warrior, a blonde with an eyepatch, and others, destroying obelisks. Five Paths, coming together to stop a Cycle.
Dreams of a world under the shadow of the Abyss, being consumed.
Dreams no one could remember. Of when everything was perfect. Of when everything was wrong. Or maybe they're all dreams of everything gone wrong, Asleep or Awake. Of Museums that never existed and people that were never met, blurring memories.
Blurring reality.
And through them all, flashes of a clock.
No one remembers when the Circle of Creation first appeared in Sacramento. The Circle that was abandoned, the Circle that was seized, the Circle that shelters them all. The Circle that more than one looked at, and questioned. But maybe it was never the act of Hubris that so many saw. It's easy to see, now. It's a Constant. A keystone in reality, with a legend to map the way forward: The clock on one tower, the matching sigils on the face of the other. Warnings, or prophecies, ignored for years.
The minute hand lurches forward.
OOC