Mora stepped up to the wicked-looking pipe-organ; the carved demonic head which it was made from leered silently at him. Sweating with anxiety, Mora looked back to his friends before swallowing hard and shakily bringing his fingers to the ivory.
Mora pressed the keys down into several minor chords, and a thunderous peal of music echoed, sounding mockingly similar to a church. Suddenly, the eyes of the carved head lit up with fire, and with a *WHOOSH* a pillar of flames burst into life around Mora. The man's screams were cut short after just a second and the fire disappeared just as quickly. Mora was gone.
After a moment of shocked silence, Mora's friends cheered excitedly.
For three long days the violent storm had ravaged the town of Iolinas, and the townsfolk had begun to wonder if it would ever end. Strangely, towards the end of the third day, the rain stopped suddenly, though the winds still buffetted the town relentlessly; some townsfolk thought it was finally the break in the storm. Others thought it was a portent of worse things to come… These people were correct.
A society in which people believe that the hundreds of stars that dot the sky are the dreams of the sleeping. When the sun goes down, and the people of the world rest, the dreams begin to seed the sky, disappearing in the morning as the populace awakes once more. It could be just a folk tale, or it could be real...