...

	[i]"Dear slumbering child, without home, without memory... Do you hear my voice? You must still remember the covenant we forged so long ago, do you not...? Regardless, you must rise now. It is time for you to reclaim what once belonged to us, now lost and forgotten..."[/i]

	This soft voice echoed in the darkness, whispering sweetly, as though trying to coerce and sooth something that was afraid. Shortly after, a row of pale lights blinked on, each one belonging to a capsule built into the walls and floor. The faint glares revealed very little, but enough to outline the metal atrium that surrounded and protected the hundreds of people. The life laying dormant in the these marked containers began to stir, finally hearing their fateful calling. It was subtle and slow at first, a twitch behind close eyes or weak clench, as those within worked to overcome the numbness that rapidly bled away, their heart pumping fresh blood through their bodies once more. Who knows how long it has been since they were last awake? This was one of hundreds of such places, these 'Cradles', where the passengers were meant to bide the uneventful years, kept under the watchful eyes of the Caretaker. The controls and dials before these devices might seem foreign, but a deep instinct would direct their hands in freeing themselves from within. All that was needed really, was just a simple push against the hatch.

A low hiss soon sounded as the first were released, the compressed air rushing around them as greeting back to life.

[@Heap241][@Mag Lev][@Cyrania][@Light][@AspenIvan][@knighthawk][@ravenDivinity]

...

	One such chamber stuttered open, a frail and short figure leaned forward in his seat. It appeared to be a little boy of sorts, his pale brown eyes staring out from underneath wavy bangs in confusion. As he took his first breath, he coughed, cuffing his mouth in surprise. The air smelled faintly of something he thought he knew, sweet and smooth, the unmistakable fragrant of a flower. Before he can get another whiff, wanting more of the bliss it allowed him, the scent had already withered. He was left alone with his emptiness again, staring out at the terrifying darkness. His mind raced for some kind of answer. But he could only grasp at wispy details hidden in the obscure grayness of his thoughts. What was his own name again? Yes, Daresso. He was fourteen years of age, born on the fourth day on the fourth month. And... there was another name too. No, not like those of the Perennial Staff, those he remembered clearly, like the Caretaker and the Grand Artisan... but of someone living. [i]'Alexander'[/i] -- But what did that have to do with him? It felt so important, but he didn't know why. That lingering question bothered him greatly. 

	Others were stirring too, but he stayed in his seat, unsure whether to move or wait. 

	He noticed out in the darkness of this room, other such devices already opened. They seemed undisturbed for quite some time. Others didn't stir at all, the inhabitants behind the dark glass laying still, as though they were meant to continue their hibernation. Daresso didn't remember much of himself, but he can recall vividly the ceremony before they all went to sleep. It was a bittersweet day. The speech was still fresh in his mind, of their 'waking destiny'. They were going to leave this sunlit haven and go back. To... The place below. But weren't they supposed to wake up together? Why had others awoken long before him, and others who were not roused?

...