“Vessel?” I repeat. “He’s… inside of me? Right now?” “This world is a creation of your mind,” he says, looking around the canopy of trees. “And an incredible mind, it is. Twenty years and it’s only just begun to crumble enough for me to break through.” “Twenty years?” I echo. “Please tell me you’re joking.” “I’m afraid not. He resets it every time you begin to doubt. Every time the illusion grows worn, but it was only a matter of time.
