Sunbeam Lair [m] So if you care to find me, look to the western sky

Somewhere in the agony of it all, she found clarity. Somehow, between terrible convulsions and ear-piercing shrieks, she remembered who she was;
the girl in the reverie, the fleeting light of a daydream;
and so she dreamed.
She dreamed that she was flying, and there was so much light. The air around her was all pink and gold confection, like clouds laced through the sky, but so warm. She was free, untethered, weightless and the world could not touch her. It was perfect. Until she fell. Then she was falling forever; into darkness, into something that grasped and burned and left her breathless. How far could she fall? Could it really never end?
The Garden; it came to life all around her, all at once, and she let out a breathless little laugh to be in this wonderful whimsical place again. Yes, this was where she wanted to be. This was where she belonged.
But this is not your place —
A woman's voice. Reverie looked and found a pale wolf, one with eyes like flames. How startling! But her face was gentle, almost motherly, and instinctively the gilded girl trusted her.
"Then where?" She found herself asking.
I cannot tell you that.
But I can show you.
Look, Reverie, I have a gift for you…

She felt the moment her eyes were set alight, and her cries shook the garden to its roots.

…

A long, long time ago — or perhaps not so long, but it felt forever all the same — there was a girl. A dancer in gilded tones, a dreamer, a soul so bright it could only blind.
Her name was Ophelia.
She loved art and philosophy, she loved the impossible and the infinite and all the little things no one else seemed to notice. She loved her family. She loved the world. And she had been lost to the fire.
But there are forces in this universe much older than any of us could ever imagine. They see each beautiful little light in the world. And they love. And they remember, even as dozens of them wink out of existence with each passing day.
So from The Garden those ancient powers called forth a new spark, a young flame in gold and scarlet. A drifter with a heatwave smile; sunheart, goldveins, cloudfeet. A spirit not meant for this world. A strange light from a place of dreams.
The girl in the reverie.
She remembered now.
Remembered the day she had been called to this, when the sky rumbled and spoke and said you will live, and it will hurt, and it will be beautiful, because you will make it so. And then she had fallen endlessly, past the clouds and into reality,
and when she touched the flames, touched that girl who had once been Ophelia,
everything changed.

…

And now you really see;
This is your beginning, but not your place.
Where we've come from is not always where we are meant to be.
And the point of freedom is to make a choice.
Do what they'll never expect, Reverie.
And know that one day you will return.

…

And somewhere far below, where dreams are grounded in reality and fairytale love ends in blood and tears, the girl in the reverie was twisting; suffering; dying.

Reborn, again.