Since inheriting his curse, Karim had been unable to sleep well. This was as much the fault of his guilty conscience as it was that of his sudden poverty in the wake of his infection, two banes no amount of wine could not ease. Guilt and a ratty old bedroll were hardly the best circumstances to win a good night's sleep. But as he writhed in his sleep on the streets of Cairo, something much worse than a nightmare was echoing in his mind. It seemed as though something were calling to him from beyond time and space. Something from realms even demons like werewolves were not meant to understand. Something that was calling his name.
His sleeping body tensed as he continued to dream the twisted dream. A presence entered his mind. At first the unknowable presence was but an observer, probing the depths of Karim's soul. Then it began communicating, not in the tongue of men or gods, but in the voice of thoughts and nightmares. The sensations of smothering confinement for centuries on end rushed into the sleeper's head, and Karim felt as if he were being strangled by hateful hands. Then a slow sense of shame and failure grew like a corrupted seed in his soul. He knew he had failed to perform some task of dire importance, and was punished with millennia of imprisonment for his failure. Any sense of time or reality he had was blurred and muddled by these alien sensations. These were clearly not his thoughts. And then, darkness. The world seemed to have lost all light from the sun and moon, and Karim was back on the streets. There was no life on the streets though, not even the derelicts and criminals who were most active while the rest of the city slept. It was as if Karim was the only one left in Cairo. Karim took a few fearful steps forward in the reality of his dream. His footsteps made no sound on the streets, and he was only barely aware that something was unusual. Unbeknownst to him, the same presence creating a mental fog preventing the tortured werewolf from realizing he was in a dreamscape.
Footsteps started echoing down the streets of the ghost town, but Karim could tell they were not his own. They belonged to something walking the same streets as Karim, something he could not see in the darkness. But he could feel it moving ever closer to him. What it was, it seemed to be more corrupt than any devil, and more ancient than any holy site. Not knowing what else to do while drowning in the sea of shadows, Karim prayed. This only caused the presence to express amusement, as though prayer was a fool's action in this reality. Karim seethed with anger at having his faith so openly mocked, but this only earned him further mockery. The presence then gleefully gave Karim a small sense of its true nature, causing Karim to suddenly feel as though he were growing smaller. Seemingly satisfied, the presence spoke its first words.
"Karim Tadros, you have been chosen to break the seal," was all the booming, raspy voice had to say before it departed, forcing Karim awake with a horrified shriek.
His sleeping body tensed as he continued to dream the twisted dream. A presence entered his mind. At first the unknowable presence was but an observer, probing the depths of Karim's soul. Then it began communicating, not in the tongue of men or gods, but in the voice of thoughts and nightmares. The sensations of smothering confinement for centuries on end rushed into the sleeper's head, and Karim felt as if he were being strangled by hateful hands. Then a slow sense of shame and failure grew like a corrupted seed in his soul. He knew he had failed to perform some task of dire importance, and was punished with millennia of imprisonment for his failure. Any sense of time or reality he had was blurred and muddled by these alien sensations. These were clearly not his thoughts. And then, darkness. The world seemed to have lost all light from the sun and moon, and Karim was back on the streets. There was no life on the streets though, not even the derelicts and criminals who were most active while the rest of the city slept. It was as if Karim was the only one left in Cairo. Karim took a few fearful steps forward in the reality of his dream. His footsteps made no sound on the streets, and he was only barely aware that something was unusual. Unbeknownst to him, the same presence creating a mental fog preventing the tortured werewolf from realizing he was in a dreamscape.
Footsteps started echoing down the streets of the ghost town, but Karim could tell they were not his own. They belonged to something walking the same streets as Karim, something he could not see in the darkness. But he could feel it moving ever closer to him. What it was, it seemed to be more corrupt than any devil, and more ancient than any holy site. Not knowing what else to do while drowning in the sea of shadows, Karim prayed. This only caused the presence to express amusement, as though prayer was a fool's action in this reality. Karim seethed with anger at having his faith so openly mocked, but this only earned him further mockery. The presence then gleefully gave Karim a small sense of its true nature, causing Karim to suddenly feel as though he were growing smaller. Seemingly satisfied, the presence spoke its first words.
"Karim Tadros, you have been chosen to break the seal," was all the booming, raspy voice had to say before it departed, forcing Karim awake with a horrified shriek.