Chapter Seven: The Realm of Sleeping Minds
The ground beneath Rayan's feet had vanished, replaced by a strange current of swirling colors. This wasn't light—it was movement, essence, thought. He was being pulled again, not just through space but through time, memory, and something deeper.
Then—silence.
Rayan opened his eyes slowly, blinking against a soft violet glow. He was lying on a surface that felt like grass, but its color was wrong—purple, silky, and gently swaying even without wind. The sky above him was a deep black, not empty, but filled with glowing eyes—countless, unmoving, and unblinking, watching.
He sat up, tense. Something was… wrong.
Then came a voice. Not heard, but felt. Like a thought that wasn't his.
"Welcome to the Realm of Sleeping Minds."
He jumped to his feet, hand instinctively reaching for his blade—but there was no threat in sight. Just the endless purple fields and those eyes above.
"Who's there?"
"Here, there are no names. Only thoughts."
Suddenly, standing before him—was himself.
Or at least, a version of him. A Rayan whose eyes were dull, lifeless. Whose posture sagged as if his bones had forgotten how to hold weight. He looked like a puppet walking without a purpose.
"What is this?"
"A glimpse of what you'll become if your mind never wakes."
Then the world began to change.
The ground beneath his feet turned soft, almost liquid. The sky began to collapse inward, the horizon folding like paper, drawing closer. And from every direction—screams. Thousands of voices, desperate, lost, trapped.
"What is this madness?!"
"The echo of those who forgot who they were. Who surrendered to the dream and never woke up."
He remembered the words of the Gate's Spirit: This is just the beginning. And now, he understood. This dimension wasn't physical. It wasn't about strength or power.
It was a battle of the mind.
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As the ground continued to pull him under, Rayan forced himself to focus.
"What's the point of this place? What am I meant to do?"
Then another voice came—softer, feminine, but also within his mind:
"To remember."
"Remember what?"
"Who you are. And why you fight."
Suddenly, a storm of memories invaded him. Some were his—his mother's voice, Asif's death, the first time he touched his blade. The sound of the gate opening. His moment of doubt.
But others—were not.
He saw burning cities. Children in cages. Silver-eyed beings tearing through the earth. A continent shattering. His own face—standing in the middle of it all, torn between light and darkness.
"These aren't my memories!"
"But they are part of you. Ignore them, and you remain lost."
Rayan screamed, struggling against the liquid ground now reaching his chest.
"I'm not lost! I remember! I won't be one of the sleepers!"
And in an instant—everything froze.
⸻
He opened his eyes again, now standing in a circle of ancient stone etched with glowing runes. Around him stood dozens of strange beings—faceless, or cloaked entirely in black. All were staring at him.
One stepped forward—a woman, her eyes the color of shifting clouds.
"You're the first to awaken in a hundred years."
"Where am I now?"
"The layer of Reflection. The middle layer of this dimension. Beyond this, lies the Heart."
She raised her hand, and a glowing map appeared in the air.
"This dimension is divided into three layers: the Layer of Sleep, where you began. The Layer of Reflection, where we stand. And the Heart of Awareness, where your truth waits."
"What must I do?"
"Pass through each layer. Without losing yourself."
"And if I fail?"
"Then you stay here. Forever. Lost in thoughts that aren't your own."
⸻
The days that followed tested Rayan in ways he never expected.
In the Layer of Reflection, he was forced to enter the dreams of others. Each night, he lived through the memories of strangers—joys, tragedies, regrets. They weren't his, but they felt real.
In one dream, he met a little girl named Lia, crying alone in a cave. When he approached, she looked up with hollow eyes.
"Are you another illusion?"
"No… I'm real. Are you?"
"I don't know. I forgot."
He stayed with her, helped her remember her name, her family, her laughter. When she remembered—she vanished.
And in his hand appeared a small pendant.
Then he understood.
Every awakened mind gave him a piece of his own truth.
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After a week of dreams, of guiding souls and gathering fragments, he entered the final layer:
The Heart of Awareness.
It was empty.
Utterly, impossibly empty. No sounds. No shadows. No walls. Just an infinite white void, weightless and formless.
"What is this place?"
"This is you. Without your memories. Without your fears. Without your hopes."
Then, his shadow stepped forward.
This time, it wasn't angry. Not mocking. Just… lost.
"Are you me?" Rayan asked.
"I am the question you never ask."
"What's the question?"
"Who will you be… if you're not what others expect?"
Silence.
Then Rayan whispered:
"I'll be… who I choose to be."
And with that, the void shattered.
Light erupted around him, forming a new gate—one made entirely of golden energy, humming with life.
He stepped through—calm in heart, clear in mind.
⸻
He emerged before the Spirit of the Gate once more.
She smiled.
"You've succeeded in the Realm of Minds."
"I didn't fight anyone."
"Sometimes, the mind is the greatest battlefield of all."
"What's next?" he asked.
She tilted her head, and her voice dropped into a mysterious tone:
"The next dimension… will test your heart."
⸻
End of Chapter Seven