ECHO OF THE VOID : THE SLEEPERS
Chapter 9: The Grandmother
The world that formed around Aris was not a nightmare.
It was a garden.
Green and lush, filled with flowers she did not recognize, trees she had never seen, and a sky that was impossibly blue. The air was warm and sweet, smelling of honey and something else. Something like home.
She stood at the edge of a pond, its water clear and still, reflecting the clouds above. Lily pads floated on the surface, and beneath them, fish swam in lazy circles.
This was not the echo’s doing.
This was her grandmother’s.
“She always loved gardens,” a voice said.
Aris turned.
A woman stood behind her.
She was young—younger than Aris had expected, younger than her mother, younger than anyone had a right to be after four hundred years in the dreamscape. Her dark hair was long and straight, her dark eyes were bright, her white uniform was crisp and clean.
She was beautiful.
She was familiar.
She was her grandmother.
“Hello, Aris,” Helena said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“You knew I would come?”
“I hoped. I prayed. I dreamed.”
Aris walked toward her.
Her feet left no prints in the grass.
“Why did you stay?” Aris asked. “Why didn’t you let me wake you?”
Helena looked at the garden.
At the flowers.
At the sky.
“Because I’m not just a sleeper, Aris. I’m a lock. A seal. A cage.”
“A cage for what?”
Helena met her eyes.
“For the echo,” she said. “I’m the only thing keeping it from consuming the ship entirely. If I wake, the echo wakes with me. And if the echo wakes—”
“It will kill everyone.”
“It will kill everything.”
Aris sat on the edge of the pond.
Helena sat beside her.
“How did this happen?” Aris asked.
Helena was silent for a long moment.
“I volunteered,” she said. “When the echo first appeared, when it started feeding on the sleepers, I was the only one who understood what it was. What it wanted. What it needed.”
“What does it want?”
Helena looked at the water.
At the lilies.
At the fish.
“It wants to be real,” she said. “It was born from a thought—a single, fleeting thought—that should have died the moment it was conceived. But it didn’t die. It grew. It learned. It became.”
“Became what?”
“A god. A monster. A child. It doesn’t know what it is. It only knows what it wants.”
“Which is?”
Helena took Aris’s hand.
Her skin was warm.
“To consume,” she said. “To feed. To become whole.”
The garden began to darken.
The flowers wilted. The trees withered. The sky turned gray.
“He knows you’re here,” Helena said. “He’s coming.”
“Then let him come.”
“You can’t fight him here. This is his world. His dream. His nightmare.”
“Then I’ll fight him in mine.”
Helena shook her head.
“You don’t understand. There is no yours. There is only his. He’s been dreaming you since the day you were born.”
Aris’s blood went cold.
“What?”
“The echo didn’t come from Earth. It came from Proxima. It was here before we arrived. It was here before the stars were born. It’s been waiting for us for billions of years.”
“Waiting for what?”
Helena looked at the sky.
At the darkness.
At the hunger.
“For someone to dream it into existence,” she said. “For someone to give it form. For someone to become its host.”
“Who?”
Helena met her eyes.
“You,” she said. “The echo chose you, Aris. Before you were born. Before your mother was born. Before your grandmother was born. It’s been waiting for you for four hundred years.”
The garden dissolved.
The pond evaporated. The trees crumbled. The sky fell.
Aris stood in the darkness.
Helena stood beside her.
“Why me?” Aris asked.
“Because you’re a dreamer. Because you have the gift. Because you can see what others can’t.”
“I don’t want this gift.”
“No one does. That’s what makes it a burden.”
“How do I stop it?”
Helena took her hands.
“You don’t stop it. You accept it. You embrace it. You become it.”
“Become the echo?”
“Become its master. Its warden. Its jailer. You can’t destroy it, Aris. But you can contain it. You can control it. You can keep it from hurting anyone else.”
“And if I refuse?”
Helena’s eyes filled with tears.
“Then it will consume you. And the sleepers. And the survivors. And the world.”
The darkness pressed closer.
The cold deepened.
The hunger grew.
“I’m scared,” Aris whispered.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”
Helena smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of years.
“Neither did I. But I tried anyway. And so will you.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re my granddaughter. Because you have my blood. Because you have my stubbornness. Because you have my hope.”
Aris looked at the darkness.
At the hunger.
At the echo.
“What do I do?”
Helena touched her face.
“You wake up,” she said. “And you fight.”
The darkness swallowed them.
The cold consumed them.
The hunger fed.
And then—
Light.
Aris opened her eyes.
She was in the chair.
The machine was humming.
Elara was crying.
“What happened?” Aris asked.
Elara pointed at the screen.
SLEEPER 1023 — DR. HELENA VANCE — STATUS: DREAMING
“I couldn’t wake her,” Aris whispered.
“She didn’t want to wake,” Elara said. “She chose to stay. To protect the sleepers. To protect you.”
Aris looked at the screen.
At the words.
At the light.
“Then I’ll go back,” she said. “Again and again. Until she agrees to leave.”
“She won’t agree.”
“Then I’ll make her.”
Elara shook her head.
“You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do. Not even in a dream.”
“Then I’ll join her. I’ll stay with her. I’ll fight with her.”
Elara’s eyes widened.
“You can’t. If you stay in the dreamscape too long, you’ll lose yourself. You’ll become part of the echo.”
“Then I’ll risk it.”
“Aris—”
“She’s my grandmother. She’s been alone for four hundred years. I won’t let her be alone any longer.”