To Dream in a Dying World

The man stood frozen, his breath shallow, his heart pounding in his chest. In a similar way, the chamber around him seemed to be pulsing, in rhythm with the monolith's faint glow.

The frozen figures lining the edges of the room moved their heads further, their hollow eyes fixed on him. They did not move, not yet, but their presence was no longer passive. They were waiting. Watching. He felt a sense of anguish come from them.

The low, shuddering breath came again, louder this time, reverberating through the chambers like the growl of a colossal beast.

The sound was in the air, in the walls, in the floor, in the very fabric of the city itself. The man felt it in his bones, it was like a vibration that made his teeth ache. Dust and small rocks fell from the ceiling covering the ground and hitting the man.

He gripped the dagger with all his strength, its warmth seeping into his palm. The weapon still pulsed faintly.

It felt heavy, both in weight and in purpose.

The wounded man's previous words echoed in his mind:

"The dagger will guide you."

But guide him where? To fulfill its owners vengeance? Or somewhere else?

The man took a step back, his cautious eyes darting to the figures. They remained still, but their presence suffocated him. He could feel their gaze. He could feel their whispers, though no sound reached his ears.

*Remember us*

The words slithered into his mind again, more insistent this time. They were not pleading anymore. They were demanding.

The man shook his head, trying to clear the whispers from his mind, but they only grew louder, more chaotic. Voices overlapped, memories flooding his mind—fragments of lives he had never lived and faces he had never seen from people he had never met. A woman screaming. A child crying. A man laughing, his voice twisted with madness. The visions came in flashes, disjointed and overwhelming him, each one accompanied by a surge of different emotions—fear, despair, rage...

He stumbled, clutching his head. The dagger slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. The sound was sharp, cutting through the chaos in his mind. The whispers stopped abruptly, leaving him gasping for air.

The chamber was silent again, but the tension was palpable. The frozen figures had shifted. Their heads were no longer tilted; they were now fully facing him, their expressions frozen in a mix of sorrow and accusation. One of them—a figure with its arms outstretched—took a single, jerking step forward.

The man's breath hitched. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing the dagger as he backed away. The figure did not pursue him, but its movement was enough to send a chill down his spine. The others remained still, but he could feel their intent. They were testing him. Waiting for him to make a mistake.

The shuddering breath came again, louder and closer. The monolith's glow intensified, casting long shadows across the chamber. The shadows moved, twisting and writhing like living things. They reached for him, their forms indistinct but their intent clear.

The man turned and ran.

The chamber seemed to stretch as he moved, the walls shifting and warping to block his path. He dodged around pillars that hadn't been there before, leaped over cracks that opened in the floor. The shadows pursued him, their whispers growing louder, more frantic.

*Remember us.*

*Remember us.*

*Remember us.*

He burst into a narrow corridor, the walls closing in around him. The shadows were closer now, their forms taking shape—elongated limbs, featureless faces, mouths filled with too many teeth. They were the same as the creature he had encountered earlier, but multiplied, their numbers overwhelming.

The man slashed at them with the dagger, the blade cutting through their smoky forms. They dissipated with each strike, but more took their place, their whispers growing into a cacophony of voices.

*You cannot escape.*

*You will be one of us.*

*Remember.*

Paying too much attention to the threat of the shadows he hadnt looked at the environment. He quickly realized his mistake as his back hit a wall. The shadows closed in, their forms solidifying, their clawed hands, trying to reach for him. He raised the dagger, its glow flaring brighter. But the man feared there were too many for it to help.

And then, the city breathed. Again.

The shuddering breath grew louder and louder until it became a roar, a sound vast and deep that it seemed to come from the earth itself.

The shadows froze, their forms flickering as if caught in a sudden wind. They tried to resist, but where quickly swatted away by the invisible force. The man felt the ground beneath him shift, the walls of the corridor collapsing inward. He was thrown downwards, tumbling into darkness.

When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the chamber or the corridor. He was standing in a vast, open space, the sky above him a swirling mass of clouds.

The city stretched out around him, but it was different now. The ruins were gone, replaced by towering spires and grand archways. The streets were filled with people, though their faces were blurred, their bodies were grey and their voices were just a distant hum.

He was in the city's memory.

The man looked down at his hands. They were solid, real, but the world around him felt like a dream. The dagger was still in his grip, its glow faint but steady. He could feel its warmth.

A figure approached him, its form shifting and indistinct. It was not one of the shadows, nor one of the frozen figures. Hidden behind silvery mists he could see what resembled a human figure.

"You are the first to enter the memory. A long time has passed for you to be a survivor. Are you a newcomer?"

it said, its voice echoing in his mind.

The man stared at the figure, his grip tightening on the dagger.

"What do you want from me?"

The figure did not answer. Instead, it raised a hand, pointing to the horizon. The man turned, following its gesture.

In the distance, a massive structure loomed. It was a massive tower, it surface was blackened, its shape twisted and unnatural. Strangely, it pulsed with the same white glow as the dagger and the monolith.

"Go," the figure said. "I shall be waiting."

After that it dissolved into the mist, it's vaporous form slowly fading into the streets.

The man hesitated, but not much.

He had no choice since he was trapped in the dream. But he was determined to find out the truth of the city, and of this world.

He stepped forward, the dagger glowing brighter with each step. The city's memory shifted around him, the streets and spires dissolving into shadows and light. He was no longer going to run away from this cursed place. He was going to face it.

And the city awaited for his arrival.