He meandered through the bustling docks, blending seamlessly with the fishermen going about their daily routines. Their conversations reached his ears in fragments, their words laden with worry and confusion. Kishin pieced together the snippets, intrigued by the tale they collectively wove. Men of all ages spoke of their troubled sleep, haunted by dreams that defied reason and comprehension. They muttered of wending through unseen woods, surrounded by an orchestra of chirping cricket legs. Their voices trembled with fear as they recounted these nocturnal journeys, unable to shake off the lingering unease upon waking.
Kishin's interest deepened as he observed the common thread that bound the fishermen's experiences. Each dream bore the unmistakable mark of a shared affliction, a spectral connection that tied them together in a web of restless slumber. He knew that to understand this phenomenon, he had to go beyond the surface, delving into the depths of their subconscious minds. Night after night, Kishin roamed the shadowed streets of Astera, seeking out those who had fallen into the grip of this mysterious sleep. He listened to their tales, their fragmented memories of a realm that existed only in their dreams. Their faces were etched with exhaustion, their spirits weary from the relentless torment.
302 wc