Born of stars, shepherds of dreams

When Dreamveil first took shape, its rivers of possibility glittered brilliantly, but they were unstable. Dreams without dreamers drifted like newborn storms, sometimes gentle, sometimes devastating. Beautiful visions could collapse into nightmares; serene dreams could break and decay into chaos.

The universe, remembering the burden of untethered dreams, willed guardians into being.

From the shimmering fragments of a fallen star, one that had been brushed by the remnants of the First Dream, the first Capelin emerged. They were not born as flesh or bound by time. They simply… formed.

Their bodies were soft, warm like blankets, woven from stardust and gentle light. Their wings carried the hush of distant galaxies. Their hearts pulsed with quiet purpose, an instinct placed within them by the universe itself:

To keep dreams safe.
To carry them across the night.
To deliver them to the souls who needed them.
To ensure that peace and imagination remained in harmony.

Capelins glided above Dreamveil's newborn rivers, gathering fragile dreams before they spoiled, settling restless nightmares, and guiding lost visions back into the flow. They became the shepherds of wonder, the bridge between sleeping minds and the infinite dreamscape.

Though countless worlds now dream on their own, the Capelins remain faithful to their purpose. Wherever a dream is born, travels, falters, or fades, somewhere a Capelin's wings are stirring the night.

The guardians of the dream river

Long after Dreamveil had taken its shape, and after Capelins took to the skies, the River Oneiros had grown vast and powerful. Its currents carried dreams meant for countless worlds, and within its depths flowed memories, emotions, and possibilities too heavy for fragile beings to touch.

The Capelins could guide dreams… but the river itself needed sentinels.

From Dreamveil's earliest lands arose beings of strength and endurance: towering, dragon-kin humanoids shaped from energy, fur, and the will of the river itself. They were called Lumawyns, and unlike the Capelins, they were not born of stars or whispers.

They evolved.

Dreamveil shaped them slowly, responding to the need for guardians who could stand where others could not. Their bodies were built to endure the river's pressure - powerful frames, soft fur that could hold dreams, and spirits steady enough to resist the pull of unformed dreams.

They were entrusted with the protection of the Dream Castle and the River Oneiros' most volatile crossings. Where the currents surged violently, where dreams threatened to fracture or overflow into chaos, Lumawyns stood watch.

And for a long time, they were unchanged.

But no being can stand so close to the source of dreams forever and remain untouched.

As centuries passed, Oneiros began to recognize them.

Dream essence seeped into their fur and skin, not as injury, but as communion. Patches of their bodies grew translucent and wispy, glowing softly with drifting fragments of dream-light. These places did not bleed — they flowed, as if small portions of the river itself now lived within them.

The Lumawyns did not resist the change.

To them, it was proof of devotion.

Over generations, the marks spread. Some bore only faint traces, like mist beneath the skin. Others were heavily veined with dream essence, their forms threaded with flowing light and shifting imagery.

Among their kind, it became understood:

The more the river has touched you, the longer you have stood your post.
The more you have endured, the greater your strength.

Thus, power among Lumawyns is not claimed - it is earned. Their wisps are not decorations or blessings, but records of time, sacrifice, and unwavering vigilance.

Even now, Lumawyns patrol the Dream Castle's halls and the river's edges, their luminous scars reflecting the dreams of distant worlds. They are living thresholds between stability and collapse - beings who stood too long at the river… and were changed by it forever.

From the sea, fins and dreams collide

When the Dream River spilled into Dreamveil's seas, it did not simply end. Its waters widened, deepened, and slowed, forming vast dream oceans where unfinished visions settled like silt. These Dream Seas became reservoirs of concentrated dreams - heavier, denser, and more introspective than the river's flowing currents.

Where the surface shimmered, the depths remembered.

From these seas emerged early aquatic peoples, beings of scale, fin, and tide who learned to survive within the quiet pressure of dreaming waters. They were not yet Nautoneiras; merely sea-dwellers shaped by Dreamveil's oceans.

But the dream seas are not passive.

Dreams that sink to the depths do not fade; they ferment. Memories steep. Emotions compress. Stories fold inward until they grow heavy enough to change the world around them.

Those who lived closest to the deepest currents began to change.

Over generations, exposure to these concentrated dreams altered their forms. Their bodies adapted to hold what the water carried - large hands for swimming through the currents, crests and sensors that could sense dreams within the water, gills that could breath in water and air, and even dream essence flowing wildly in their veins. In some, patches of their bodies became partially incorporeal, as though made from liquid thought rather than flesh. Almost like dreams soaked into scales and flowing out from between them.

These beings became known as the Nautoneiras.

Unlike Lumawyns, who stood against the river's force, Nautoneiras learned to move with it. They drifted through dream-tides, listening to the emotions embedded in the water. Where dreams grew stagnant or dangerously dense, Nautoneiras guided the currents back into balance, releasing excess visions into safer flows.

Their power is measured not by strength, but by depth. The more dream essence a Nautoneira carries within their body, the longer they have swum the abyssal currents. Heavily altered Nautoneiras often appear partially formed from dreams and water, their shapes shifting gently as dreams pass through them.

Among their kind, it is said:

"The sea does not mark you unless you are willing to swim with the waves."

To surface dwellers, Nautoneiras are rare and mysterious - glimpsed only where dream-fog meets the shore or where the sea glows softly at night. But in the deep Dream Seas, they are wardens, listeners, and living conduits for dreams too heavy to travel alone.

They are the keepers of what sinks…

And the voices of dreams that refuse to be forgotten.