Vessel's eyes fluttered open, the familiar weight of despair settling on his chest. This time, though, the air felt different—crisp, electric. He blinked and stared at the black ribbon clutched in his hand, its texture foreign against his skin. Around him, the red dust swirled, clinging to the decaying white ribbons that adorned the trees like tattered ghosts.

“Again?” he muttered, frustration seeping into his voice. A whisper of movement caught his attention. He turned to the tunnel ahead, his heart racing. The cadence of soft steps echoed, a melody of lace and leather. He counted them as they approached—one, two, three... five. Wait. Six?

The figures, adorned in skin-tight black suits, flowed around him. One woman caught his eye, your movements slow and disoriented. “Help me,” you gasped, dodging his sword as he instinctively brandished it. “I’m not like them, trust me.” you hushed out, your voice trembling.

He hesitated, the weight of Sleep's expectations heavy on his shoulders. “Trust is a luxury I can’t afford,” he replied, gripping the sword tighter.

“Then we’re both lost,” you whispered, your gaze piercing through the shadows. As the ribbons fluttered ominously above them, Vessel felt the edges of the loop tightening once more.