“This nutter has gone full mental,” Cirian whispered, leaning close. “Do they really expect people to believe this wash?”
From my other side, Malachi watched the storyteller closely, his disguised face twisted somewhere between a grimace and a sneer. I had the distinct feeling this was not the first time he’d encountered the charismatic speaker.
“They seem bought in enough to me,” I whispered back.
“Your thirst for truth is palpable,” the masked figure spoke once more, addressing the crowd. “I have felt it in the air, this drive for understanding. I’ve told you the history behind the Magi, but what of your own histories? What decisions brought you here, tonight, to this most auspicious occasion? Some would call it fate. I choose to think of it as something far greater. A plan, centuries in the making. And it’s all come down to this. This moment in time. How special that we get to share it, friends.
“During the First Awakening, the Source’s magic was disseminated through four individuals. But I’m here to tell you that these four confidants were not the only ones in the room that fateful day. There was one other.” The figure held up a finger, holding it out in front of him as he turned slowly. “A boy, seeking a moment’s rest for his weary body after the battle against the Magi King had left him battered and spent. The Source’s gift had exhausted him to a point near death, but when the light of the Awakening engulfed him, he felt the warm embrace of the Source as it lulled him to sleep. And sleep he did, for the boy fell into a slumber that would last for three hundred years.”
My pulse spiked, and Cirian tensed at my side.
“Taken into the care of the newly formed Church of the Source, the boy slept on as magic spread far and wide across the Expanse. And as he slept, he dreamed. Dreamed of thebeautiful world he was going to wake to, and of the peace promised by the Source. However, when that day finally arrived, and the boy woke from his slumber, those dreams evaporated, chased away by the cold reality that the Magi had built. There were Magi Kings no longer, but everywhere he looked, he saw the corruption of the Source’s blessings. Magic had become a weapon once more, and the Magi used it to indenture scores of Mortals to build their cities. Not only that, but the boy also found that the Source’s gift had granted the Magi longevity far greater than mortalkind.
“As his body had been kept in the vaults of the Church, when he awoke, the boy found himself face-to-face with none other than Annora, the Magi King’s alchemist. She had studied the boy’s slumber, and he would discover it was her efforts which allowed him to end his wakeless dreams. She was old and frail by that time, the last of those original Magi created in the hall of the Magi King, and she told the boy that finding the proper way to wake him had become an obsession that she’d dedicated the latter part of her life to. When the boy asked her why, she said that the Source had given her power over death, but had managed to keep the boy away from her for all those years. Now, she’d bested the gods.
“The alchemist kept him there in the vaults, under her eye, for another decade. His body resumed aging, and by the time she’d exhausted her questions and experiments, he was no longer a boy at all. His name had been lost to his slumbering, along with most of the memories of his life before the Source’s blessing, so the alchemist regarded him as the Sleeper.”
The knot in my stomach had swelled to such a size that I could hardly breathe. It was as if this storyteller knew that we were there and what to say to keep us rooted in place. Did this alchemist of old discover the solution I’d been searching for all this time?
“The alchemist was fascinated by the Sleeper, wanting to understand how the Source’s magic had manifested itself within him. She assumed that he would wield immeasurable power since it was he who had put an end to the rule of the Magi King. But she could provoke nothing out of the Sleeper to prove her theory. The alchemist and the Sleeper would take long walks through the Sanctuary City, discussing all manner of scientific discoveries that had been made regarding the Awakening. Over time, the Sleeper began to regard his captor as a friend, and he would look forward to her visits each day.
“Then, the day came when the alchemist did not appear at his door. Then another. And another. On the fourth day, the Sleeper knew that his friend was gone, and he was once again alone in the world. He cried out to the Source, cursing its name for going back on its word. When no answer came, the frustrations distilled to pure vitriol. Wielding the magic he’d been given all those years ago, the Sleeper destroyed the vaults of the Church, freeing himself once more into the world that had forgotten him.”
The crowd fell silent around us as the storyteller paused, their form growing still.
“That feeling of loneliness… of being abandoned by the one thing that had given his life purpose, it was almost too much for him to bear. But there, in the wreckage he had wrought upon the Sanctuary City, the Sleeper heard a whisper, the small, still voice of the one that had brought him to this place. It told him, ‘I am here. Rest.’
“So, he did as the voice commanded, slipping back into a slumber that would last for centuries. Lifetimes of dreaming. And oh, what beautiful dreams he dreamed. Colors he’d never imagined. Realms of creatures far too captivating to describe. When he slumbered, all of the pain of his life before meltedaway, replaced with a peace that wrapped around him like swaddling.
“Yet, like all dreams, it came to an end. Once again, the Sleeper found himself awake, the harsh reality of the world coming back into focus as the bliss melted away. This time, he did not wake to find himself a prisoner, but an honored guest. The Church had watched over his body through the years he’d slumbered, and now he found himself face-to-face with a Saint. The Saint told him that they’d received specific instructions from Annora herself, before her passing, of how to care for him whilst he slept, and that he was free to leave the Sanctuary City, should he choose to do so.
“The Sleeper had nowhere to go, no cherished ones with which to spend his days. So, the Church welcomed him into their care, and the Sleeper remained with them, behind the walls of their city. He found his curiosity piqued at the practices of the Church, and their study of the elusive force that blessed him all those centuries before. Yet, when he would try and commune with the Source as others in the sect did, he found no voice to answer him.
“Even his creator, that benevolent light which had awakened the magic in his blood, had turned its back on him, remaining silent through the passing years. But there in the valley of his doubts, the Sleeper knew that there was more to be done with his existence. If the Source would not answer his call, then he would press ahead on his own. For there were many injustices he saw across the Expanse, and he alone held the knowledge that seemed to have been kept from the other Magi. The truth about how magic first came into the world, and how fate could be twisted to make it happen again.
“And now, my friends, the time has come. Through endless patience, the Sleeper has seen his machinations take hold. The Second Awakening has come, bringing this gift to you all. Onlyone question remains. What will you do with what you’ve been given? Will you continue to suffer under the yoke of those who came before you? Those whose greed and lust have corrupted their gifts into weapons to be used for subjugation. Their grip on the reins of power slackens with each passing day. The foundation’s cracks spread deep and wide. With the right amount of pressure, it will break, and this world can know the peace and prosperity that should have come long ago.
“There are those in this room who still doubt. I can see it plainly in your eyes. It is understandable. How can you be expected to trust in someone with whom you have no connection? It is a fool’s errand for me to expect you to behave otherwise. So, let me prove my mettle. Let me show you what is possible in this new reality of ours.”
The storyteller paused, raising a hand to their chest. The room around us was deathly still as we waited for what would come next. A man to my right gasped a moment later, his own hand rising to mirror the storytellers. Then another on my left. Then a ripple of gasps as the crowd pulsed with movement. I grabbed hold of Malachi to ensure he wouldn’t be ripped away from us in the chaos.
“Bast!” Cirian called over the din.
I’d lost sight of him in the churning of bodies as the crowd pressed against one another.
“Peace!” cried the storyteller.
A wave of magical energy emanated from the center of the room. My limbs fell heavy at my side, as if they were being weighted down, and I strained against the strange restraint. “Witness, friends. Witness the ties that bind us together in harmony.”
Another ripple of magic permeated the air, distorting my vision in a shimmer of red light. The room once again fell silent, all of those present turning toward the center in unison.A pressure against my chest drew my gaze downward, and I blinked twice to try and make sense of what I was seeing.
A tether, crimson red like blood, ran from my chest, connecting me to the storyteller. With another blink of the eye, my vision was filled with more tethers, each of them lighting up with the pulse of magic as they converged, connecting the entire crowd with the figure at the center of the room.
“Peace,” the figure continued, their voice echoing through the stillness. “For I have shared with you the story of the Sleeper, the one who first brought magic into this world. But my friends, there is something I must confess. The story I have brought before you tonight is no mere legend. It is not like the false histories propagated by the Church. For you see, it was my own firsthand account of the events that led us here. You ask yourselves who it is that stands before you now, and I have but one answer?—”
A voice echoed through my head, so vast and loud, I wondered if I would merely cease existing under the weight of it.
I am the Sleeper. Now, I am awake.
