A few nights later, Momoko tossed and turned in bed. No matter how she struggled, sleep seemed ever elusive. She had spent the afternoon trying to find the perfect outfit for the following night, and had finally found a cute champagne dress in a department store that looked dreamy with a pair of classy pink heels she picked up in the next store. Despite her excitement, she was still dealing with the increasingly distracting thoughts about the egg. Frustrated with her uncooperative conscious, she sat up. The egg, nestled in a towel on the dresser across from the bed glowed a faint red, illuminating the wall with a pink hue. Otherwise, the room was dark.
Momoko stared at it, chewing her lip. On top of the headaches, she now seemed to be hearing things. It was hard to tell if it was just because her mind was so preoccupied that she only caught off the wall sounds, or if the hints of whispers were really all in her head. The cranial specialist had run every test in the book on her the day before, and everything was fine. This did little to relieve her concerns, though. She tossed off the covers and padded over to the egg, scooping it up with both hands. It was warm, like it always was, and she found some comfort in that. The thing may be driving her crazy, but she couldn't bring herself to ditch it. She held it to her chest and made her way back to the bed.
She dove back under the covers and pulled them up to her chin, snuggling in with the egg. She had even more questions now than answers, and the last few days the world seemed to be joining in on her weirdness, with the news shifting from its continued coverage of the earthquake's aftermath to strange reports of an increase in crime and unexplained events going on in some sections of the citiplex. She wondered if more than the dome had cracked during the earthquake. Stifling a giggle, she rolled over. It was a silly thought—that she and the city were going crazy together.... But she felt like something had started; and she couldn't put her finger on it, but even the vision of an impossible creature, and an office that disappeared in a ruin of a building felt more real to her than if she had dreamed it all up.
Her eyelids began to feel heavy. She hugged the egg, releasing a silent plea to the universe that this would all make sense soon. As her mind drifted from the space behind her eyes into sleep, she swore she could almost make sense of the whispers leaking into her ears. A very finite calling of her name rose above the rest. She realized she was somewhere between sleep and dreaming, but curiosity got the best of her as the whisper called her name more urgently. She moved towards it, which was curious, because she was slightly aware that she was asleep—so now this must be a dream.
She moved forward in the semi-dark, a pinkish glow in the distance seemed to be the source of the whisper. As she got closer, the voice of the whisper took on shape, a voice not her own. Somehow it was higher, sweeter—the voice of a child. She paused, unsure if she really wanted to meet the source of the voice. As she hesitated, the glow seemed to fade, or grow further away. It was hard to tell exactly, as there was no standard to measure distance in the dark. She was even sure if she was standing or floating in this space. She glanced around, the rosy light had disappeared, and left her with a sense of dread. She started off in a direction, calling out to the light voice that she couldn't hear anymore. She wandered around like that for what seemed like ages, before collapsing in defeat. Whatever that voice and light had been, it was gone. She'd lost it.
She heaved a sigh, wondering if this dream would be over soon. She blinked as something, almost invisible in the dark, wave in front of her face. She reached out, a thin thread caressed her fingers. As she held out her hand, another thread brushed over her knuckles, light reflecting in the strand where in made contact with her skin, a sliver of silver light in the dark. She reached out with her other hand, and was amazed to find even more threads, illuminating a path to her left. She followed the strands of gossamer, they softly ran through her fingers, a caressing guide.
She wondered mildly as she walked along if this silver trail was leading her back to the pink light, or somewhere else. As she continued in the darkness, she became aware of someone watching her. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling, it was like someone was observing and watching over her as she let the strands lead her. After a little while, she started to wonder if the presence with her was waiting for her to say something.
She stopped, clinging onto the strands. "H-hello?"
"Momoko." A breath of warm air brushed her cheek, and she blinked, surprised that someone could be so close and remain unseen.
Then, the outline of a very tall figure became visible, and the darkness seemed to lift, as if this figure was the sun rise in this place. Hues of orange and blue cascaded over the figure's shoulders, and Momoko realized in quick succession that the strands she held led to the stranger, and that what she mistook for some sort of fiber was actually hair. Her eyes followed the gleaming cascade up to the figure's face, but although light surrounded him-- she was sure it was a he, his features remained in shadow, and she couldn't make anything out.
"Who are you?" she sucked in a breath, her heart staring to race.
"It's almost time." He responded in a deep voice. "The demon and the source will make themselves known to you soon. Whatever you decide, the world's fate will depend on you."
"That doesn't make any sense." She shook her head. "What am I supposed to make of that?"
"Seek them out before the egg hatches. Time grows short."
The figure disappeared, and Momoko was left alone in the darkness again.
"Wait!" she shouted, running toward where he had just been. Then back towards where she thought she had first found his trail. She flailed her arms, hoping to catch anything.
"Momoko!" a voice called from the distance, but it wasn't the one she was searching for.
"Momoko!" Sylvia's voice was loud and commanding.
Momoko's eyes snapped open, and she stared up at her guardian from the confines of her twisted sheets. Daylight streamed in the room, and the egg was perched happily on the night stand.
"Wha—"she croaked, trying to make sense of the transition from dreaming to awake.
Sylvia sighed impatiently. "Are you going to thrash about in your sleep all morning; or do you want breakfast?"
"It's Friday." Momoko blinked.
"All day." Sylvia smiled.