While my feet dragged over to the bow of the ship, Elden had finished his conversation with Hildekar over yonder and headed back into The Canary. He had temporarily taken my place, but now I'm 'fine' after a brief rest, and he can get back to sleep.
Even though originally he was the one who ruined the schedule by almost destroying his ornant...
But I'll forgive him.
Not for being called Eldy, though.
I'll rip him apart for tha-
"Thank you."
Nemora's voice broke past the blaring waves and slipped into my ears, "You're welco. Don't make do that again."
"Sorry. You were the only one I could think of who could get through to him; he's least familiar with you. The rest wouldn't have succeeded as well as you did."
"Then, at least don't let things spiral so badly that I have to do that again."
"Easier said than done. I'm the leader of the cohort, not their nanny. I'm exceptional at strategising and planning out our following steps, but taking care of their ntal health... I'm not exactly a specialist in that category." Nemora stared down at from atop the sails, her eyes twinged oddly at the latter half of her sentence as I glanced up at her.
"I know what you're trying to imply."
And she's not wrong.
I'm the insane one here.
I'm the one hearing my own voices speaking to .
I'm the one enduring backlashes repeatedly every few hours.
I'm the one who endured the madness of our creators.
I'm a sick bitch.
Not physically, well, perhaps taphysically? And ntally.
"I didn't an anything by it-"
"I know." I stopped Nemora right there. This conversation is futile; I don't care whether Nemora ntions it, but I understand with full clarity why Nemora assigned that task to .
It makes sense.
After all, it takes a crazy one to know one.
Or, that's how I like to convince myself. Realistically, anyone with a working pair of eyes can spot a crazy person.
But spotting one and understanding one are two different concepts.
Not that I understand.
I'm just another blind fool in a sea of darkness.
I'm the sa as the others.
Just another dumbass.
Another idiot.
A love-struck, crazy, pathetic, little creature.
The Perfect Cursed Doll.
A Doll that doesn't know whether, to this day, it's still being controlled from afar by the Mistress and the madness. The re fact that I can even comprehend that fact terrifies . It ans they are allowing to have a clear understanding of my situation whilst keeping in the dark.
I hate it.
And I hate that I don't know if I'm even under the influence of their Authority or not anymore.
How stupid.
Smacking my face, I pushed these conspiracies of mine back and focused forward into the incoming darkness.
I had to keep my attention on what matters at the mont.
Things can change at any mont.
....
...
And they did.
It only took an [Hour].
Just one.
One single [Hour] crushed us.
That alone was enough to teach us the cruelty of the Sunless Skies.
Enough to teach us exactly why the world fell into ruin.
Were I to return, could I change it?
Do I believe, from the bottom of my weak heart, that I could?
No.
It's not possible.
That is the power of the [Lights].
Of the predecessors.
And this one...
This one was a tomb.
A gravestone.
A seal.
Taking a deep breath, I solemnly lowered my head.
May you rest in peace.
We won't fail you.
...
.....
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months...
Then years.
Ti flew backwards.
It thrust itself through the river of ti as everything around regurgitated decades worth of information in re seconds, until, eventually-
Woom.
-silence thundered in the darkness.
My eyes flickered open and shut, but the darkness didn't falter. I was standing in an enclosed space, a place filled with refreshingly clear air yet lingering with the echoes of sorrows. I could almost hear it in the walls, feel it in the air, and see it...
See it...
"..."
...I can see it.
The white, the fog, the haze:
Soul.
It oozed from the majestically woven, marble-carved tomb lying in front of .
Staring at it, I lifted my hand towards it, but then-
Creak!
-the doors behind shuddered open, creaking and groaning whilst peals of light filtered through the particles floating through the air.
Turning to face it, I gazed into the light; into the opening of the sepulchre's doors.
There, I witnessed it for the first ti.
Light.
Through the haze, through the fairy-esque particles flapping about, and through my eye's adjustnt to the rapid change in light levels...
A disc.
No, not a disc.
A sphere.
It blazed blindingly in the sky beyond the open doors.
A srisingly familiar sight, one that, perhaps, only I rember at this point.
"The Sun."
Just as I stood there, staring at it, a group entered the sepulchre. A group dressed from head to toe in modest clothing that covered the entirety of their bodies, bar their eyes, carrying tools dedicated to cleaning, I recognised them as janitors.
Cleaners.
They stepped into the sepulchre.
And, to my confusion, they walked past .
As though I didn't exist.
As though I were a mirage.
They slipped by .
As though...
[Dream]
...that word was imparted into my brain.
It was declared to .
A dream.
A dream of the past.
A past long lost to the terrors of whatever it was that caused the Empyreans and Pillars to abandon this world, a past long lost to the ones who remained in this Dark World; a past that I, an inhabitant of a world that once too bore a Sun, held trendous curiosity towards.
Swivelling on my soles, I curiously observed the cleaners who didn't notice , an observer of this dream.
Preparing their equipnt, the heftily clothed cleaners spread out in perfect formation as they began to prod and poke at the 'dirtiest' corners of the sepulchre. The combination of water and soap was kept under tight control through so form of power as they took care of the room.
As they cleaned and paid their respects to whoever was laid to rest in the tomb, I noticed a shift in my surroundings.
I'm being moved.
I was getting dragged out of the sepulchre by so invisible force.
Pushing my arm outwards towards the tomb surrounded in a white haze, a pressure wrapped itself around , thrusting even faster out of the sepulchre.
Damn it.
That tomb is obviously important, let check it-
But I was given no further opportunity.
I had wasted my ti by standing still, a decision I was already forced to regret and swallow the bitter consequences of as-
Slam!
-I was tossed out of the sepulchre with trendous force acting on my body, unnaturally bending as I soared like a kicked ball through the air.
The doors of the sepulchre were slamd shut as I rolled, crashed, and tumbled across a multitude of rooftops till I ca to a skidding, tearing stop that shredded a solid layer of skin off my face as I slamd into a railing and tumbled down into an alley.
Thud.
Slamming into solid ground, the pain on my face gave a burst of energy that awoke from a mild daze. Fortunately, within seconds, that tear which exposed my flesh and blood squeezed itself shut with new, wriggling waves of flesh.
As I recovered, I shook my head side to side and glanced around my current surroundings.
A dreary alley with festering pools of stagnant water and a couple of bins stacked to the brim with long-discarded garbage.
The stench was vile, but nothing I couldn't endure.
Glancing around further, I imdiately noticed the only exit from this alleyway.
An opening that led to a quiet street, with the occasionally lowered head passing by as though sothing were chasing them.
This is the complete opposite of the sepulchre.
In the anwhile, I combusted my Curses into Cursed Flas and gave myself a rough wipedown to remove the gri and grease sticking to . Skidding and crashing through multiple rooftops wasn't quite the pleasant ordeal-
Huh?
Wait?
Isn't this a [Dream]?
My eyes shot downwards as I glanced at my fist. Squeezing it into a ball a couple of tis, I reached out and touched the ground beneath , even releasing a quick burst of Cursed Flas in the process.
The ground is singed.
My Cursed Flas burned the ground.
I shouldn't be able to interact with the world around if this is just a normal dream.
Then, is it a dream? Is it not a dream? What situation am I even in? Why, upon entering the sepulchre, was I thrown here into, seemingly, the past?
Questions, questions, questions...
Licking my vaguely dried-out lips, I glossed them back up and stood from my crouched posture. I gave my body a twirl as I stretched myself to check for any inconsistencies, and to my relief, nothing was different.
I still had my golden hair, my white eyes, my budding breasts, and a tiny yet delightfully growing porcelain-esque visage—a dented creature who eerily resembled her beautifully perfect sister.
Everything is normal.
Reviews
All reviews (0)