Awakening The Sleeper

Chapter One: The First Dream

        The darkness was thick, like a living thing pressing in on all sides. The only sound that broke the silence was the distant pulse of a heartbeat–slow and steady, like the ticking of a cosmic clock. Vessel stood at the center of it all, the weight of the unknown bearing down on them.

        They had been here before, in this place beyond the waking world, where shadows bled into one another, and the very air hummed with an ancient melody. It was neither peaceful nor threatening, but there was always the sense of something waiting.

        Tonight, the dream was different.

        The pulse grew louder, the darkness rippling round them like the surface of a pond disturbed by an unseen force. Vessel's body felt weightless, suspended in a void, yet their chest tightened with each breath as if the atmosphere itself was becoming dense.

        Then came the voice. Low, guttural, and ancient, it echoed through the vast emptiness.

"Do you hear me?"

        The words wrapped around Vessel's mind like a binding, seeping into their very thoughts. The voice was deep and languid, like it had been asleep for eons and had only now stirred. They had heard whispers before–during rehearsals, between notes–but never like this. This was different. More real.

        Vessel's mouth moved instinctively, the words catching in their throat as if trying to speak underwater, "Who... who are you?"

        The voice responded, reverberating through every bone in Vessel's body.

"I am the dream you have forgotten... the sleep that claims you at night, yet eludes you at dawn. I am the silence between your heartbeat and the melody you have always sought."

        Vessel's heart raced, the pulse now a matching rhythm of their fear. The voice's presence wasn't just an abstract part of the dream anymore. It felt alive, like it was reaching out from the darkness, seeking something.

        A flicker of light cut through the darkness like a blade. A silhouette emerged, cloaked in the shadows that shifted within the pulse. It moved closer, its form still indistinct, yet powerful, towering over Vessel.

"I have chosen you," the figure said, its voice a harmony of a thousand tones.

        The weight of those words sank into Vessel's soul. Chosen? For what? Why them?

        Before Vessel could speak, the figure raised a hand, and the darkness around them swirled, twisting into a spiral of light and shadow. Images flashed within the vortex—faint at first, but growing more vivid with each passing second. Vessel saw visions of themselves standing on state, masked and anonymous, with an audience watching in silent reverence. Around them, other figures appeared, clad in the same ceremonial attire–followers, or perhaps something more. They played instruments that pulsed with energy of the dream itself, the music weaving through the minds of those who listened, binding them to something... ancient.

        The figure spoke again.

"You will become my voice. My instrument. Through you, the songs of the Sleeper will awaken the world, and you will be known only as Vessel."

        Vessel's breath caught in their throat. They wanted to refuse, to pull away from the looming presence of the figure, but something held them there– something deep and primal. The music. The visions. They needed to know more.

        "Why me?" Vessel whispered, their voice trembling, barely audible.

        The figure's shadowed face seemed to shift, it's dark eyes piercing through the void.

"Because you understand," it said, its voice as soft as a sigh. "You have always understood. The melodies you write are not just sounds. They are the echoes of something greater. You have touched the edge of the dream, and now you will descend into its depths."

        The pulse grew louder, the heartbeat of the dream pounding in Vessel's ears, synchronizing with the rhythm of their own heart. Vessel felt the ground beneath them shift, a cold sensation crawling up their spine.

        Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the dream began to collapse. The vortex of light and shadow dissolved, pulling itself inward until all that was left was the figure standing before them. It reached out its hand, and Vessel, without thinking, reached back.

        As their figures touched, a surge of energy shot through Vessel's body. They gasped as the world around them exploded into sound–a deep, resonant chord that echoed through their entire being. It was the sound of a thousand voices rising in unison, of world colliding, of time unraveling.

        In the center of it all was Sleep.

        The figure spoke one final time, its voice now calm, almost soothing.

"When you awaken, the real journey begins."

        And then everything went dark.

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        Vessel awoke with a start, their heart racing, their body drenched in sweat. The dream lingered in the back of their mind like a distant memory, but the feeling of that presence—the figure, the voice—was still tangible, as if Sleep itself had followed them into the waking world.

        They looked around their dimly lit room, the silence oppressive. Outside, the city slept. But within Vessel, something had awakened.

        A new song was forming in their mind—haunting, ethereal, and unlike anything they had ever written before.

        This was the beginning.

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End of Chapter One.

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