I don’t know how much ti passed since I fell into the vortex. All I could feel was my body sinking deeper and deeper. It was like being subrged in a pool—but without the resistance of water, no friction at all, as if I were being swallowed by emptiness. And that emptiness seed endless.
The deeper I fell, the more I felt my head about to explode. A growing pressure built up in my mind, and with it ca flashes of mories—confused, fragnted, but intense. It was as if, with every ter I descended, parts of were being violently ripped away by oblivion.
Almost like an analog process, the deeper I plunged, the more mories surfaced. That entity, which before seed so strange and distant to , beca sothing so familiar that even I was surprised by how naturally I recognized it.
But this was different from simply rembering. Actually, I had never really forgotten. It was like my mory, for so reason, had chosen not to recall—as if there was a subtle barrier, not of forgetting, but of refusal.
And the more I sank into that dense, silent darkness, the more mories seeped into my mind like ancient echoes returning ho. I rembered the entity’s na, its gestures, its presence, who it really was. All at once, like an overwhelming wave of recollections.
Yet, I felt no pain, not even a hint of rejection—just a strange sense of familiarity. Deep down, I knew: those mories were precious. They were part of . Fragnts of sothing that had always been there, dormant, waiting for the right mont to wake up. They were .
By then, there was no denying it anymore—and deep down, that’s all I had been doing until now: denying. But the truth was, I had known for so ti. I realized it, felt it, recognized my true nature. What I really am. What I have always been, in fact. I’d known this for a long ti, even if I didn’t want to admit it. And now, with so mories recovered, there was no room left to run. Denying it didn’t make sense anymore. In fact, it would be like denying myself.
Those whirlwinds of thoughts raced through my mind in seconds. Then, my eyes slowly opened. In front of , my Alter Ego watched silently, its red eyes shining with an almost hypnotic intensity. I just stared back, and it did the sa. We stayed like that for a few monts, carefully studying each other.
Sohow, even though it didn’t have a defined face—no features, no expressive traits—I could feel, deep down, that my own expression had beco a little more like its. As if sothing inside was being shaped by that empty, profound reflection.
The next mont, when my eyes scanned the surroundings, I didn’t notice anything different from what I rembered. In a way, everything that had happened—even the mont when I saw my past self-talking to Virtue... or rather, to Nyara—didn’t seem to last more than a split second to those around . Yet, from my perspective, it stretched for hours, as if ti had warped just for .
Arthur’s eyes and the others’ were still fixed on Nyara, who floated gently beside , as if gravity no longer affected her. Her gaze remained steady on , intense and calm at the sa ti. The next instant, I looked directly at her.
Honestly, my mind was a storm of thoughts—confused, overlapping, impossible to organize. I had no idea where to start. Still, almost automatically, the first words that ca out of my mouth caught off guard. Even I didn’t know why I said them.
My eyes locked exclusively on Nyara. The next mont, my thoughts turned to her, echoing clearly and firmly in her mind: (Nyara, don’t think just because you’re my little sister I’ll let what you did to before slide. Prepare for the consequences)
I blinked right after saying the words, still a bit stunned by what I’d just said. To be honest, I was surprised with myself. It was sothing I really wanted to say, that I was about to say—but it ca out before I realized—almost like an automatic impulse.
Maybe it sounded like I was angry at Nyara, but I’m not. Or rather, the feeling is more like soone trying to discipline their own brother or sister, trying to correct patiently, even if it sotis seems too harsh.
Nyara, on the other hand, widened her eyes for a brief mont. Her expression—until then as cold and empty as a concrete wall—wavered, as if a shadow of doubt tried to break through that icy barrier. It lasted only a second, but I saw it. I felt it in a way that can’t be ignored. She didn’t understand. Of course not. How could she? To her, I was the one who erased everything from her mory. To her, I’m the villain. The enemy.
But suddenly, was I the one who looked irritated? And threatening to punish her for what she’d done before? It was obvious Nyara would be confused by that. She slightly furrowed her brows, her eyes narrowing in a mix of surprise and uncertainty.
Her lips parted, as if about to say sothing, but no words ca out. The hesitation in her gaze was almost tangible, like she struggled to understand what was happening. She simply didn’t seem to know how to react to such an absurd situation.
The next mont, Nyara narrowed her eyes in my direction. Her expression twisted into a mix of disbelief and fury—a silent but sharp rage. She stared at as if I had betrayed everything she believed in, her piercing gaze digging into like blades eager to cut through flesh and soul. Then, she took a step in the air. Not literally—the space around her simply bent, as if reality itself folded before her will, defying natural laws just to obey her.
The hesitation was swallowed by sothing formless—a silent presence creeping through the cracks of reality, as if the very fabric of the world was holding its breath. It wasn’t light, nor shadow. It was a subtle void, an absence heavier than any matter, a diffuse, unlocatable pressure making the space around pulse with a disturbing irregularity, as if the universe had montarily forgotten how to exist.
The atmosphere seed to bend, as if about to collapse under the weight of sothing invisible and colossal. There was no light, but everything shimred with a disconnected glow, as if reality was cracking from the inside—subtle fissures in the very concept of “here” The air vibrated with an aimless anxiety, a restlessness seeming to rise from the floor, the walls, ti itself. Beneath the skin, sothing moved with uncomfortable slowness, like an ancient mory desperately trying to rember who it was, scratching the edges of consciousness.
Then, sothing moved. Not before the eyes, but beyond the senses—a subtle dance of opposing forces, entwined like invisible needles sewing the contours of reality with threads of silence and tension. The air seed to hold its breath, and even ti hesitated. It was as if the whole world was on the brink of collapse…but hadn’t yet been given permission to fall.
Nyara was at the center of it all. Silent. Still as an anchor in the middle of chaos. Her fixed gaze seed to hold up the absurdity around her, as if her re presence kept everything from collapsing completely. A second later, the world reacted. The ground beneath Arthur, Laura, and the others simply ceased to exist as solid ground.
The stones broke loose and began to float in impossible geotric patterns, defying all logic. They spun slowly, as if following the rhythm of a broken clock, whose gears danced in the air to the sound of an inaudible lody.
The trees twisted as if waking from a deep sleep, their trunks and branches bending in impossible directions, staring directly at every person in the scene. It was like being in the middle of an invisible crowd, under the weight of dozens of piercing gazes coming from all directions at once.
The sky, once gray and dull, seed to fold onto itself—like a sheet of paper tearing at its own edges—revealing layer after layer of heavens, one behind the other, all pulsing in unreal tones, as if the world itself was shedding its skin.
Nyara hovered at the center of the forming chaos, suspended like a portent. Her eyes shone like compact suns, radiating an incandescent light that tore through the surrounding shadows. Her presence made ti itself hesitate—the seconds faltered, unsure whether to speed up in panic or freeze in awe of the mont’s magnitude.
And then she spoke—or rather, her voice echoed, reverberating through the air like a divine whisper, ancient and undeniable.
“You... you dare...” Nyara began, her voice trembling with hurt and disbelief. Her eyes burned, fixed on the other with a mix of pain and anger: “To talk to like that... after everything you did to ?”
But there was no anger in her voice. There was sothing more subtle—and much more dangerous: a deep sorrow, heavy with confusion and a silence that seed to trap the air around her. The voice echoed, warped like a glitch in a reality that once seed unshakably solid.
Every word she spoke not only pierced the silence but tore apart and rebuilt the space around her, as if the world itself hesitated, lost between what was and what would cease to be.
An unexpected flower blood in the silent void between us—its delicate stem twisting like a shy promise. In monts, it grew wild, rising until it beca a huge mountain, dominating the space like a silent giant. But just as fast as it appeared, it withered, crumbling to dust and shadows in seconds.
The logic of existence unraveled there, stitched and patched by the impatient fingers of an irritated child playing god with a mischievous smile. And ? I stood frozen, caught between disbelief and stillness, just watching that chaotic spectacle unfold before my eyes.
My gaze never left her as she struggled, caught between raw pain and silent indignation. Her body trembled, almost like the world around her was a broken toy she was trying in vain to fix. Reality twisted around her, contorting into crooked angles and shadows that seed to stretch in response to her suffering.
But even amid that whirlwind, there was no fear in her eyes. No surprise. In fact, no emotion seed to cross her face—just a cold emptiness, as if sothing inside her had already shattered forever.
(I won’t deny my fault in her current state, but you, Nyara... forgetting is unforgivable. Using your powers against ? That, yes, is unacceptable. You will pay for that—and that’s exactly what I’m going to do) I communicated ntally, my tone sounding bored.
The effect was imdiate. A sharp sound, like breaking thin glass, echoed in the distance, slicing through the heavy silence of the environnt. Nyara froze in midair, paralyzed, eyes wide once again—this ti, not from fear of a physical threat, but under the weight of my words.
It was as if my tone hit harder than any blow. Maybe it really did. She seed unable to understand how I could be so… relentlessly indifferent, as if my emotions were a cold wall she couldn’t break through.
How could I just watch all that without even frowning? The winds of distorted reality hesitated around , as if the very air carried the weight of the mont. The world, though wounded, remained silent, waiting for sothing uncertain.
And I stayed there, looking at her—without judgnt, without reaction. Just letting her carry the burden of her own fury, feeling the imnse emptiness she couldn’t fill, like a cold echo reverberating inside her. Of course, inside I felt crushed by a deep, restless guilt.
I knew, maybe better than anyone, how destructive Nyara was in her very essence—a presence whose re existence seed to pull everything around her into a whirlwind of chaos and self-destruction. Nyara was the embodint of ruin, a force that corroded everything, including herself.
Yet, there was a painful paradox inside : I also knew Nyara was completely innocent, a pure and delicate soul, incapable of wishing harm even to a fly. It was a cruel irony, almost torturous, that such a ruthless existence could carry within itself such a genuine and fragile purity.
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