Fjiorn, ensnared by his dancing self, lost sight of Åsa, so he did not notice when her eyes opened. He was seeing something for the very first time. Something that he had never seen before. He saw himself dancing his life, he saw that his life was a dream.
He was dreaming. He had always been dreaming.
All that he had thought and felt and believed and trusted and struggled with, all of it was a dream.
How could he be so deeply asleep that he could not see this?
How was this possible?
A dream voice beckoned him, but he would not follow.
He had a task to accomplish.
The god had tasked him.
The voice penetrated past his determination.
And his eyes snapped open.