He was told years ago what it meant to be Awakened. The Watchtower's calling, a memory that resonated with him to this day. Truce did not question the calling. He hardly had a moment to make sense of the depth in its meaning. In a brief span of time he came know the Truth. But it was no comfort. It only outlined the rules the Fallen World operated by. It only revealed the chains that bound him and weighed him down.

It was a twist of Fate that brought him to his Mentor's attention as they crossed paths in the aftermath of his lover's Death. Even with his newfound knowledge he could not have prevented her demise. Power and powerlessness. He reflects on these now in the space of idle Time between events. Why then had he been called to Awaken out of so many that remained Sleeping?

Truce walks about the Sanctum with a cup of tea in hand. The heat and flavor he senses distantly when he sips. His Mind is elsewhere. He has slowly become aware of the Tapesty that hangs across the world. His Watchtower pulled him to the Supernal Realm of Stygia, a mysterious realm that was said to hold the waiting dead. Yet the tranquality it instills in him does not prevent his restlessness.

He sets down the tea cup on the edge of a side table before moving to his bookshelf where books pertaining to his Sleeper studies await parusal. He pulls out a thick reference book and pages through it, seeing the Lie, the misunderstanding of the Universal Consciousness. He wants to help those Sleepers with their mental abnormalities. At times he feels he understands the root of their problems better than any Sleeper pscyhologist could. It's almost like how a doctor of modern medicine might observe the machinations of a superstitious witchdoctor. How ironic, since those modern doctors perceive themselves a superior through technology and understanding. They do not know any better.

Truce sets the book down on the side table too, perhaps with some frustration as it jostles the table well enough to send the tea cup falling, cracking as it hits the wood floor. He moves, cursing his negligence as he picks up the pieces on the floor. He sees it like entropy, the general decline to disorder, how precarious their existance is, both in Life and before the great chasm that is the Abyss. What would become of them if it continued to persist? Would his efforts be all for naught, failing to cure the problem at its source.

He remains too ignorant, he knows it. And so he must rely on others for now.

Yet there is one comfort he can take outside his helplessness. It is that while he has yet to understand or achieve control over the world around him, he can retain the Will to press on despite it all. It is that Will that granted him his Awakening that resonated with the Watchtower on the distant shores of those mysterious higher realms.