Ori Reeflash pressed both hands against the inside of the mirror and whispered backwards into the desert air. Someone would hear. Someone always did. For centuries she'd been trapped here, watching the world through every reflection connected to her prison, growing weaker with each passing year. But she held onto hope. The right person would come. They would bring the elements and free her. Then she could finally build her shrine, a place where followers would leave offerings in exchange for her blessings. She could see it clearly in her mind. A temple with carved walls that told her story. Tropical motifs would wind up the pillars, showing her power over dreams and nightmares. The carvings would draw people in. They would come to leave tributes at her feet. Gold and jewels and precious things. In return, she would stop the nightmares that plagued them each night. She would taste their pain and make it disappear. Through every reflection in the world, she'd watched suffering souls cry out in their sleep. They needed her. And she needed them. The temple would rise the moment she was free. All she had to do was wait for the right one to place their hands on the mirror and bring the elements to her. Soon. It had to be soon. But a temple alone wouldn't be enough. Ori pulled back from the mirror's surface and let her glowing eyes drift across the visions she could see through distant reflections. People needed to know where to find her. They needed a path that would lead them to her doors. She pictured bright tropical flowers lining a walkway, seastars marking the way like colored stones. The path would catch their eyes and pull them forward. It would spread the word without her having to speak. Those who saw it would follow it. Those who followed would bring others. Her shrine would fill with believers, and their tributes would give her the strength she'd lost through centuries of waiting. First freedom. Then the temple. Then the path that would bring the world to her feet. Her forehead gem pulsed with dim light as she planned the final piece. The followers would need something to take with them. Something blessed. Something that proved her power was real. She would craft tokens from shells and give them in exchange for each offering. A workstation near the temple would let her make them by hand. Each piece would carry her touch, her promise to keep the nightmares away. The tokens would spread through the world like seeds. People would see them and ask where they came from. More would follow the seastar path. More would leave tributes. Her shrine would grow. Her strength would return. All she needed was freedom, and freedom was coming. She could smell it in the souls that passed by her mirror. One of them would be the right one.