Everything was becoming a blur so suddenly. The days, hours, friendships, and families—all of it melded into obscurity. It felt as though your days were growing darker and darker, shrouded by an ache deep in your heart—a pain with no apparent reason.

One thing led to the next, and eventually, your body gave out. Your mind became clouded with depression and suffocating thoughts. Even the smallest tasks left you fatigued, and bathing felt like an unbearable chore. Nothing got better—until the clarity hit you.

In a dream, you saw a man cloaked in void and stars, his form reminiscent of the night sky. His voice was so deep it seemed to reverberate through your chest. His face? He didn’t have one—only unblinking, white eyes that pierced through the darkness.

“Do you have something to offer me?” he asked, his voice heavy with meaning. Before you could respond, the dream began to slip away, pulling you out of the stranger’s reach. Or so you thought—until he pulled you back into his embrace as you slumbered.

You snapped awake to an icy chill. Your clothes weren’t thick enough for the weather. Wait—why were you outside?

You stood there, your feet aching, staring at a weathered statue. It had been worn down by both time and human hands, its surface marred by cracks. There was a plaque at its base, the words etched in gold: “What do you have to offer?”

As you read the inscription, it felt as though the words were being spoken directly into your mind. Something was watching you. Something was speaking to you.