I Just Wanted to Nap, But They Built Me a Religion

Ezrel Dormir, age six and entirely too tired for this reality, had barricaded himself in the linen cabinet in his maid's room.

It was his third nap spot this week.

You may ask why he finds this place to take a nap.

The reason is clear....

He is hiding from his creepy but cute little sister..

His last spot had been under the sink in its cabinet.

Well..

It lasts for a while..

Until Lysette tracked him there with a small pillow and the certainty of a guided missile.

It only takes her a few minutes to find him after realising he is not within her range.

Before that, he had tried the stables.

But was kicked out.

Dont be mistaken..

The worker at the stable didn't disturb him after all he was the young master in this family.

Forget the young master title.

They even tried to worship him there...

The one who kicked him out is all those fucking animals in that stable..

.....Horses.....

After he entered the stable, they kept making noise..

How can he take a nap in a noisy place?

So now, here he was. Wedged in a nest of ceremonial robes, forehead pressed to incense-scented velvet, muttering ancient words of the weary.

"Just five minutes.

No more surprises.

 No creepy sisters.

No anything.

Just peace for me to sleep."

And he slept.

He did not wake into light.

But.....

He woke up in the dream again.

The disturbing dream with silence that he only dreamed once before he died.

A place with no gravity.

No walls.

Just endless black, the kind that felt too heavy to be night, like memory soaked in silence.

Then it arrived.

The old familiar entity.

Faceless.

Formless.

A silhouette that flickered between shapes.

It didn't glow. It interrupted.

The same being from his death, his blessing.

The one who sent him into this world.

----

Ezrel blinked.

He stared at that entity.

The entity did not speak with a mouth.

It slipped words directly into his mind, calm and smooth and echoing forever.

"You're sleeping well, little one."

Ezrel glared, arms crossed. Or imagined he was.

"You again."

"You called me, remember?"

"No, I hid in a cabinet to escape my cute little sister."

"And then you drifted."

"As you always do."

"Because sleep is your instinct now. And instinct always returns to its source."

Ezrel narrowed his eyes.

"I never agreed to anything."

"You did."

"You just thought it was a joke."

Ezrel gritted his teeth. "You said you'd give me rest."

"I gave you something perfect.""You sleep, and the world moves differently.""You stretch in the stillness. You unfold between seconds."

Ezrel's stomach turned. "What does that mean?"

"Not ...yet,"

"Time will unfold the answer".

It stepped closer to him.

Or maybe the world around them folded inward.

The black behind it seemed to ripple like a curtain in deep water.

"You're changing. Each nap deepens the fate.""Each breath makes you less of them. More of you."

The sigil on Ezrel's chest.

The Eternal

Pulsed once, slow and warm, as if answering.

He looked down, frowning.

"You're doing something to me."

"I'm reminding you."

"You asked to be free of the world's weight."

"So I gave you the gift that makes gravity wait for you."

Ezrel shook his head.

"No.... You wrong".

"I didn't ask to become... whatever this is."

"Of course not."

"But one day…"

"You'll be grateful."

Ezrel opened his mouth to protest again.

But....

Before he could reply anything, he woke up to a familiar place...

The cabinet...

The linen cabinet was quiet.

Warm.

He was still wrapped in his clothes. The same crack of light slid under the cabinet door.

But something… felt off.

The air wasn't moving.

No.

Not just that.

The dust in the light beam was hanging still.

Perfectly still.

Like time had paused.

Ezrel blinked.

Slowly.

He rubbed his arms.

The dust moved again, drifting as if unsure it had permission.

He didn't feel stronger.

But he didn't feel normal either.

His breaths were longer..

Deeper...

Like the world had adjusted to match him.

And worst of all?

He didn't feel tired anymore.

He hated that.

----

Out in the hallway.

Milia halted mid-step.

Something in her has changed.

The air inside had changed.

She opened her journal, ink trembling slightly.

And like she was being guided by something, she wrote:

Log #200

At the moment of waking, the light shifted.

Dust froze in the sunbeam.

Silence pressed deeper than before.

Conclusion: The blessing is not passive.

It listens.

It waits.

She underlined that last word twice.

Then stared at it.

She didn't understand what it meant.

She didn't know why she wrote it.

But the ink didn't smudge.

---

Back in the cabinet, Ezrel remained seated.

Eyes wide open.

He didn't speak.

The sigil in his chest beat once.

It didn't hurt.

But it felt like the start of something.

He didn't know what.

He just knew the next nap was already waiting.

Like it was counting down.