Part Two - Past Self
To fear sleep is as asinine as to fear death; both are inevitable. Power lies in knowing that within the dreams of one’s mind, the night does not belong to God.
My love for the goddess threads my deathly fate, and I emerge as someone else entirely.
I do not have a name. I had one once, but it was long since forgotten. I am not anyone. I am everyone. I am the very thing that killed me.
Now, I live in dreams.
Once flesh, I slipped between the gaps of history, my life diminished to nothing more than a beautiful mortal that caught the moon’s gaze. My story is thought to end when my eyes close. It does not. It begins again.
And again.
I shall show you these pair of lives as they once were, for without a sturdy stitch, the embroidery inevitably unravels.