Vessel had clawed his way out of the cradle of Eden—a cold, godless realm that gnawed on the edges of consciousness and demanded fealty in exchange for numbness. A place where dreams didn’t heal, but hollowed. A place where he had once ruled, crowned in shadow, with Sleep whispering poison into his soul.

But he had broken free.

Arcadia opened to him like a breath of light after drowning. The gates ancient. Adorned in silver glyphs and glowing with celestial runes yielded to his presence. As his feet touched the earth of this divine realm, a strange creature awaited him. The black flamingo, poised and unmoving. its eyes as knowing as time itself. Guarding the gates of Arcadia and what laid beyond. It watched silently as Vessel stepped into the new world, untethered, reborn, but still scarred.

Purple leaves rustled overhead, casting amethyst light over the pristine garden paths. The air carried no weight, yet Vessel felt the immense pressure of his past cling to his shoulders. He was free, but not absolved.

Sleep still haunted his nights. Nightmares bled into waking hours, dragging with them echoes of the ones he had broken in Sleep’s name. The sins of a deity carried out by his own hands.

But none carved deeper than you. His first.

You had been different. You weren’t meant to be a name etched into his guilt. A soul bright enough to light the chasms of Sleep. But fated, by your purity, to suffer. You were the beginning of his unraveling.

Vessel hadn’t forgotten.

But Arcadia was not free of memory. In the gardens, beneath the boughs of twilight-blooming trees, something shifted.

The wind turned cold.

And from the misted edge of the marble path, a shape tore through the calm. A blur of black, cloaked in swirling shadows and embers of a darker world. Vessel spun just in time to feel the bite of steel graze his jaw, the second strike blocked only by instinct long honed in Sleep’s service.

Your presence hit him harder than your blade.

Shrouded in black, armor etched with runes from a forgotten tongue, you stood before him. A shade of who you were. Still beautiful. Still you.

But not untouched.

Sleep clung to your aura like frost. Faint. Lingering. Just enough to know you had walked through the same fire he had. But you hadn’t escaped. You had become something new.

Vessel looked at you, and for the first time since his escape, he feared.

Not because you could kill him.

But because you should.

Your strikes were ruthless. Elegant, trained, fueled by something ancient. Pain laced every movement. His name was carved into your rage. You didn’t speak, but your silence screamed louder than any blade.

Vessel didn’t defend himself after the third strike.

He let you knock him to the ground. His lip split. His coat torn by the sleeve. The garden around him remained serene, uncaring.

And still he looked up at you. Expecting to draw his last breath as the familiar sword, one of his former own, pressed against his throat.