That night, Anthony slept fitfully. Visions plagued his dreams, but they were different from the Awakening visions others described. Usually, people saw flashes of their past life—battles, laboratories, ancient scrolls.
Anthony saw nothing but darkness. A vast, endless void.
"Why am I here?" he asked in the dream. "Am I truly nothing?"
Suddenly, a point of light appeared in the distance. Then another. And another. Soon, the void was filled with stars, but they weren't stars. They were eyes. Ancient, deep, and infinitely wise eyes.
You call yourself nothing? a voice echoed. It wasn't heard with ears, but felt directly in his mind. It was a voice that sounded like the crashing of oceans and the whispering of wind through ancient forests combined. You are not empty, child. You are a vessel waiting to be filled.
Anthony trembled. "Who are you?"
I am what you have been waiting for, the voice replied. But I am not one of the common souls. I did not slumber in the cycle of reincarnation like the others. I waited.
"Waited for what?"
For the world to be ready. For you to be ready.
Anthony jolted awake, sitting up abruptly. The room was dark, but his vision was clear. Too clear. He could see the dust particles floating in the air, hear the heartbeat of the mouse in the corner of the room, feel the flow of energy in the walls.
His body felt light. His mind, once foggy and slow, was now sharp as a razor blade.