That tattoo… it looked like the number '8' etched faintly on her back, but not a clean mark. It was old, almost faded—like an ancient tattoo worn and forgotten over time.
The lines were not sharp; they were weathered, like a relic buried beneath centuries of skin and memory.
Aether's fingers gently brushed over the black mark, his touch barely grazing the surface… but the moment his skin met that tatto, his vision flickered—brief, but vivid.
For just a second, he saw something.
A man… or rather, an echo of himself. Iteration No. 27, wearing black, heavy armour… yet the smile on his face was broken—like something inside him had shattered long ago.
Aether gasped and pulled back, eyes wide as he blinked several times. The room around him came back into focus. The vision had ended as quickly as it came.
'What was that…?' he muttered to himself, reaching out again to touch the tattoo once more.
