Space is a lullaby, exploration a dream. The motionless environments beyond the wormholes are places of refuge, retirement, safety, stasis. Nestled in this corner, a comfortable deadspace pocket, something ancient resides: a society asleep, their secret structures inert and isolated, safe in soundless void.

These ruins doze away, oneiromantic. They’ve slumbered for millennia, yet their structure remains intact. In their torpor, their memories have dimmed, their significance forgotten, their inhabitants faded. Ripe secrets are stored in this sleeping mass, hidden wonders for the taking.

Reaching the Sleepers’ treasures is a hazardous task. Something stirs amidst the ancient outpost: a nagging fear, a festering phantasm. Not everything sleeps peacefully here: Who knows if there are nightmares lurking in this berceuse?