Merciless floated, a disembodied will in an endless void. He wasn't dreaming in the way he was accustomed to — no control, no manipulation. This was different. He was aware, but not fully. It was as though his consciousness drifted just beneath the surface, unable to rise. He knew this was a dream, but he couldn't twist it to his will, not this time. Here, he was simply... present.
In the black expanse, several objects emerged from the darkness, looming yet distant. The first that caught his attention was a tree. A gnarled, twisted entity that pulsed with faint but primordial energy — Qlipoth, the representation of vampirism itself, but unlike any form he had encountered.
Merciless was aware of the power it held, for it was his. This tree wasn't just any expression of vampirism; it was his vampirism. It beckoned him closer, though he had no body to respond with.
