Lord of Mysteries: The Dream That Waits

The heavy wooden doors of the Visionary's Vault creaked open, revealing an abyss of parchment and ink-stained air. A slow wind stirred the countless floating pages, whispering forgotten words that were never meant to be read. Klein stepped inside first, followed by Yeaia, their footsteps echoing into the vast emptiness.

Klein turned his head slightly. "Stay close. We don't know what's—"

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

Then, the doors creaked open again.

The heavy wooden doors of the Visionary's Vault creaked open, revealing an abyss of parchment and ink-stained air. A slow wind stirred the countless floating pages, whispering forgotten words that were never meant to be read. Klein stepped inside first, followed by Yeaia, their footsteps echoing into the vast emptiness.

Klein turned his head slightly. "Stay close. We don't know what's—"

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

Then, the doors creaked open again.

The heavy wooden doors of the Visionary's Vault creaked open—

Klein blinked. His foot landed with an odd sense of repetition, as if he'd taken this step before. A slow wind stirred the countless floating pages, whispering forgotten words—

A headache pulsed at his temples. Wasn't this familiar?

He turned to Yeaia, but they were already moving forward, as if nothing was wrong. Klein shook the thought away. Maybe it was just nerves.

"Stay close. We don't know what's—"

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

Then, the doors creaked open again.

---

The Cracks Begin to Show

After the fourth loop, Klein started to feel nauseous. Something was wrong.

After the sixth, his stomach twisted with an unknown dread.

By the eighth, his hands were trembling, though he didn't know why.

The loops were seamless. No breaks, no sudden changes—just a perfect reset every time the doors shut. They never realized it was happening, because the moment the cycle restarted, their memories were scrubbed clean, forcing them to relive the same sequence without awareness.

But the body remembers what the mind forgets.

Klein felt himself growing more fatigued, more drained with each cycle. His thoughts were slower. His mind ached. His instincts screamed.

And Yeaia—Yeaia was growing eerily silent.

At first, they had been speaking, responding normally. But each loop, their words grew fewer, their voice more strained. Their face, usually unreadable, held the faintest traces of something terrifying.

Hollow exhaustion.

Had they noticed it before him?

How long have we been here?

How many times have I said this line?

How many times have I stepped through this door?

How many times have I—

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

Then, the doors creaked open again.

---

The Breaking Point

It wasn't until the thirty-second loop that something changed.

It wasn't obvious at first, just a whisper of difference, something so subtle it should have gone unnoticed.

A single page.

Every time they entered the Visionary's Vault, the countless floating pages drifted like leaves caught in a gentle wind. They rustled, spun, and rearranged themselves exactly the same way every time.

But now—

Now there was one page that didn't move.

A single slip of parchment, perfectly still, defying the endless motion of the others.

Klein's gaze caught it for a fraction of a second before the cycle restarted.

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

Then, the doors creaked open again.

Klein staggered, breathing heavily. His mind was foggy, his body sluggish, but something gnawed at him. Something wasn't right.

He turned his head.

The same page wasn't moving.

His breath caught.

Déjà vu slammed into him like a tidal wave.

I've seen this before.

A fragmented whisper echoed through his mind. This has happened before.

The weight of endless repetitions, of time folding in on itself, crushed him with its realization.

Klein turned sharply toward Yeaia—and saw the horror in their eyes.

They knew.

They had known.

For how long?

Yeaia exhaled, their voice quiet, hoarse. "…This isn't the first time, is it?"

And finally, the illusion shattered.

The weight of every cycle came crashing down. The exhaustion, the pain, the creeping sense of something being wrong. Klein's legs nearly buckled.

"No," he whispered, his throat dry. "It's not."

Silence.

Yeaia lifted their trembling hand and pressed it against their temple, as if trying to grasp something slipping through their fingers. "I thought—" Their voice cracked. "I thought I was just… tired. I thought I was imagining it. But—" They motioned toward the page.

The single, unmoving page.

The only thing that refused to be rewritten.

Klein's pulse pounded in his ears. If this was true—if they were trapped in an endless loop—then…

Who was doing this?

And why?

A soft, distant laugh echoed through the Vault.

A voice that did not belong to either of them.

A voice that had been watching them struggle.

Klein's hands clenched into fists. He turned sharply toward the sound, his mismatched eyes burning with realization.

"…Show yourself."

The laugh came again, softer, taunting.

"Ah, finally… You noticed me."

"I was beginning to think you'd never wake up."

The doors slammed shut.

Darkness.

And this time, the cycle did not restart...

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End of Chapter 57

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