(POV – Nekra)
Golden eyes, marked by deep, vibrant purple pupils, stared silently at the gray sky. Nekra, watching the clouds drift slowly overhead, blinked briefly before shifting her gaze a bit lower than where she had been looking.
Perched atop a pile of twisted rubble, she remained still, except for her feet, which swung gently back and forth. Her tattered cloak fluttered around her body, as if dancing to an invisible melody, guided by the calm rhythm of the wind.
Nekra watched closely as the scene unfolded before her: an enormous golden flower, radiant, emanating a steady, warm light—like the sun itself had been trapped inside its petals. The flower looked as though it could bloom at any moment, pulsing with a silent, vibrant energy.
Nekra didn't have any particular thoughts as she noticed the flower; her attention slid past it like it was just another irrelevant detail in the environment.
Within seconds, she had already dismissed it, turning her gaze elsewhere. But then, right next to the flower, something white caught her eye. No — it wasn't an object.
It was Zentharys. She stood completely still, staring at the flower with an unwavering, almost reverent gaze, as if trying to unravel a deep mystery hidden in its faint glow.
As she watched, Nekra wondered what Zentharys might be feeling. Or rather—was she feeling anything at all? There was something different about her. Zentharys didn't seem... like Zentharys.
A subtle absence, hard to define, like she was there and not there at the same time. But Nekra didn't flinch. She was already used to those subtle shifts, those quiet fractures in identity. It wasn't the first time this had happened—and deep down, she knew it wouldn't be the last.
While she continued watching the scene below, the back of Nekra's cloak slid gently forward, as if moved by its own will. Noticing the movement, Nekra turned slowly and looked into the cloak—into a deep, dense darkness, almost tangible, black as the night itself.
Yet in that vast shadow, something emerged: two purple eyes, glowing like embers in the void, appeared from nowhere and stared back at her.
For a brief moment, a soft glint shimmered in the unknown eyes, as if they recognized her. Without any sign of surprise, Nekra simply blinked in return—a calm, enigmatic gesture—then turned her gaze back to the scene ahead, as if nothing unusual had happened.
"I don't know" Nekra replied, her voice flat and distant, eyes unfocused.
After her answer, the back of the cloak turned slowly, as if observing something, and stared at the flower for a moment. Then, it faced Nekra again.
The purple eyes beneath the hood flared with renewed intensity. Nekra gave the cloak one last look before turning her attention once again to Zentharys and the giant flower before her.
Her feet, which had been gently swinging in the air, stilled. Her gaze now rested in quiet contemplation, as though silently weighing something.
Reflecting on her words, Nekra slowly looked back at Zentharys. Her eyes seemed heavy, almost searching for something that was no longer there.
Then, moving her lips gently, she murmured with hesitation: "Maybe... maybe Zentharys doesn't remember. No... maybe we shouldn't even call her that anymore. She's no longer the Zentharys we knew... at least, not right now"
Upon hearing her words, Nekra's cloak glowed again—this time with a purple light, like dancing flames burning in the eyes beneath the hood. But now, Nekra felt something different—a deep, almost suffocating sorrow, as if the cloak itself was mourning.
In a slow, solemn gesture, it turned one last time to the scene below, as if trying to remember it forever. Then the light faded, and the fabric collapsed, returning to its original form: just a simple, lifeless cloak.
Nekra, meanwhile, lifted her eyes to the sky. The clouds above seemed heavier and darker than ever, weighted like the silence that now filled the air. From her point of view, it was as if the entire world was sharing in that silent grief.
***
(POV – Protagonist)
My eyes stayed fixed on the golden flower before me as a strange feeling of nostalgia slowly washed over me. I wasn't sure why I felt this way, but the longer I stared, the stronger the sensation became—that something... something deep and unseen... was calling to me.
It felt like a soft whisper, almost imperceptible, inviting me to touch the flower, to draw closer, to give in to instinct. And somehow, it felt right. As if there was no danger at all in surrendering to that pull.
I walked slowly toward the flower, and without even realizing it, raised my arm in its direction. My movements were gentle, as though guided by something beyond my will—no, I was hypnotized.
When I regained some awareness, I was only inches away from touching it. I was so close I could feel the warmth radiating from its petals.
And it wasn't a metaphor—there really was a heat emanating from the flower. But it wasn't like the sun's heat... it was different, denser, almost alive, like the flower itself was breathing, pulsing with its own inner warmth.
It was hotter, but not in an uncomfortable way—it was a strange, tender warmth, oddly comforting. Like slowly sinking into warm water, feeling the world dissolve around me.
Seconds after these thoughts crossed my mind, my hand touched the flower. Or rather, tried to. I felt nothing. No texture, no resistance. It was like the very act of touching had been denied. The flower was there—or seemed to be—but at the same time, it wasn't. A present absence, a tangible paradox.
I blinked, involuntarily, and the moment my eyes opened again... the flower was gone. In fact, everything was gone. The ground, the air, the shapes—everything vanished into absolute silence. All that remained was light.
Not light in the usual sense, but light in its purest form. An essence. A presence that felt more real than anything I'd ever known. It wasn't exactly bright, yet it gave off a soft glow. It wasn't warm, and still, there was a subtle comfort in it—almost like a quiet embrace. It didn't feel spacious, either, yet it carried a vastness impossible to measure.
Strange words started flooding my mind—words I didn't understand, but somehow, a part of me just knew. It was like an ancient instinct had awakened, whispering truths I couldn't trace the origin of.
My eyes moved, guided by a silent certainty, locking onto a specific direction. I knew—without knowing why—that was where I needed to look. And the moment my gaze fixed on something, something I couldn't quite identify, my steps began to follow. Slow. Almost reverent.
My pace was steady, yet oddly deliberate. With each step, my eyes scanned the surroundings in silence. There was something unsettling about that empty landscape—an almost complete void, no buildings, no trees, no sign of life. And yet, everything felt strangely familiar, like a forgotten memory whispering at the edge of my mind.
Then, a thought surfaced, clear and sudden, like a distant echo: (I've... been here before!)
This time, I was absolutely certain—this place, this space, I had been here before. Many times. More than any human number could express. No—saying I had been here was an understatement. I had always been here. I never left. Not even for a moment. Even now, as I think about it... I'm still here.
With that thought, my eyes settled on what was in front of me. There was something—an unmistakable presence—but its form was blurred, glitched, fractured like a corrupted image.
I couldn't make out any clear features, nothing recognizable. And still... I knew. I knew with a deeply unsettling certainty that the figure was me. Or rather... had once been me. That strange and unexpected idea rooted itself in my mind as I stared at the distortion.
The figure slowly raised an arm, pointing in another direction, like it was trying to show me something—or remind me of something I'd forgotten. My eyes lingered on the figure for a few more seconds before hesitantly following its gesture.
In the distance, there was someone else—another person, seemingly unaware of our presence. I glanced back for a moment—blinked—and froze. The figure was gone. Just like that. Vanished, as if it had never been there.
Strangest of all, even though I could recall it clearly, a part of me insisted: that figure was never there. As if my mind was trying to reconcile two opposing truths. I blinked again, confused, then looked back toward the other side.
I began to walk slowly, drawn toward the figure lying on the ground. The way she rested seemed oddly peaceful—like she was being cradled by some invisible embrace. It was a strange yet serene sight. As I got closer, I could make out her features more clearly.
She had long golden hair that shimmered brightly, reflecting every nearby ray of light like threads of living gold. A delicate crown of flowers lay upon her head, softly framing her calm face, while a faint ethereal halo hovered above, swaying almost imperceptibly in the quiet air.
From the base of her spine, two radiant golden wings stretched outward, casting a gentle glow that filled the space with a peace that felt almost divine. For a moment, I wondered if I had died and woken up in heaven. That vision... there was no better word for it. She was an angel.
I just stood there, watching her in silence. She looked so peaceful, so comfortable in her sleep, that I instinctively knew—I shouldn't wake her. There was a softness in her breathing, a faint motion at the corners of her lips, as if she were dreaming of something beautiful.
I had no idea how long I stood there—minutes, maybe hours. In the end, I just kept watching. Something inside me was growing, pulsing stronger with each second my eyes remained on her. It was a strange feeling, hard to name—like my heart was trying to tell me something my mind hadn't yet caught up with.
But I knew it was there, real, intense... and getting stronger. After all that time, I finally moved—or rather, my fingers did. I reached out, slowly, trembling fingers aiming for those golden strands that looked like they held the very essence of the sun. So radiant. So beautiful. So untouchable.
But just before I could touch that warm light, a chill shot down my spine—a sudden, silent premonition. My eyes lifted instinctively... and there, right in front of me, was someone. Me. Literally me. Same height, same eyes, same features—but something was wrong.
Something subtly distorted in that still reflection standing before me. Like a cracked mirror: familiar, yet deeply unsettling. Their appearance was so distinct from mine that I didn't even know where to begin—but the eyes... the eyes were exactly the same. There was no doubt. That was me.
I blinked, confused. The other me stood there calmly, watching the girl on the ground with an eerie sense of peace. And then, without thinking—as natural as breathing—a name left my lips.
"Althea" I murmured, almost without realizing it, as the figure identical to me did the same. But even though I felt my lips move, no sound came out of my mouth. Only the other me spoke the name out loud.
My whole body trembled at the sound of that voice. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, breathless, trying to steady my breathing. Yet strangely, I felt no pain. It was hard to explain what was happening inside me—a strange, unsettling sensation. That... was me, and at the same time, it wasn't.
Like someone else was sharing the same body, with different thoughts, different emotions. That was the feeling—being face to face with a version of myself I barely recognized. And yet, as confusing as it was, I knew—somehow, somewhere in the past—that had once been a part of me.