A date. He was stirred into existence with a reckoning force. Pulled out of his stasis the moment the words were scratched on the surface of the blank parchment. The nourishing black ink sipping through his being like a lifeline. There was a pulsing sensation, a sense of awareness. He was incorporeal, but alive. Like waking up from a long deep sleep, surrounded by darkness and immobilized. Still, he was. 