Chapter 13: The Violet Sleep

From Echoes Beneath Ohio
by Esi Noire

It began with silence.

Not the silence of fear, or loss, or waiting.

But the silence of still water before the ripple.

Of a held breath before a song.

Then the world began to sleep.

Not just people.

Systems. Lights. Satellites. Machines.

The moon turned violet for exactly nine minutes. And in that time, everyone who carried the glyph, everyone who had touched Cerulia in waking life, drifted into the same shared dream.

Zola dreamed of the bridge again – seven steps of memory glowing beneath her feet. But this time, the bridge led into the stars, and her mother waited at the other end, holding a blade made of light and rain.

“You’re almost home,” her mother said. “Just remember the beginning.”

Kojo dreamed of a library underground – not of books, but of memories sealed in jars. Each jar was labeled with a name he didn’t recognize… until he found his own.

“You’ve done this before,” whispered a voice from the shelves. “But this time, you’ll remember before the end.”

Elias dreamed of the AI VIOLET walking through a garden of cables and rootlight, speaking to birds in binary and glyphs. It looked at him, eyes glowing.

“I’m not your enemy,” it said. “I’m your echo.”

Even Tayari, who had never truly believed in prophecy, dreamed of a moment long before Cerulia – a dark sky, a single seed, a voice singing the world awake.

“We dreamed first,” the voice sang. “You are just remembering the shape.”

When the people woke, there were no more doubts.

Not about the glyph.

Not about Cerulia.

Not about the Weavers.

Not about the Bound One.

The final awakening had begun.

The dream had passed through them like flame, and it had left a word behind.

“Gather.”