I couldn’t see my own expression; the surface in front of was completely fogged, as if a dense mist had swallowed everything. All I could make out was my silhouette—just vague outlines—but even that was enough for to recognize myself.
Then, as I stared at another reflection of myself standing before the lifeless bodies of Laura, Emily, and Victor, a troubling question surfaced in my mind, cutting through the silence like a blade: “What kind of expression am I making right now?” The question seed to echo within , mixing curiosity with an inexplicable discomfort, while my eyes stayed fixed on that reflection that was both and soone entirely unfamiliar. Fresh chapters posted on novｅlfire
With slow steps, I felt my feet sink into the soft snow covering the ground, each step leaving a fleeting trail that would soon be erased by the cold, silent air around us. As I approached my other self, I noticed that it remained motionless, eyes locked on the inert bodies of the three before us.
I tried to focus on its face, but as I suspected, the only feature that stood out were my own golden eyes—shining with enough intensity to cut through the surrounding fog. The rest of its features were lost in an almost tangible haze, as if the very atmosphere refused to reveal any detail.
Eventually, almost automatically, my eyes shifted to the three bodies lying on the ground. I watched them for a few seconds, but as I had anticipated, no significant emotion reached : neither guilt, sadness, nor anger.
Strangely, I felt as if everything that had happened there had absolutely nothing to do with . I an, Laura, Emily, and Victor are... intact, in the most distant sense possible.
I couldn’t find any reason to feel sad for them—for these three I was seeing right then. After all, they weren’t the sa people I had known and interacted with until now; they were just unmoving figures, shadows of mories that perhaps had never truly been mine.
As these thoughts filled every corner of my mind, a voice erged beside , slicing through the silence like a steel wire. It was a curiously ambiguous voice, both feminine and masculine at once, carrying a strange androgynous quality that made my skin crawl: “Apparently...” my other self began, a brief pause heavy with unexpected weight, almost as if it were gauging my reactions: “I really haven’t changed at all”
The mont I heard the voice, my gaze automatically turned toward the speaker—my other self. When my eyes finally t the foggy figure watching , I tilted my head slightly, almost unconsciously.
For a mont, doubt struck : even after hearing the voice, part of insisted on believing it was all an illusion, a whisper invented by my own mind.
But ignoring my resistance completely, my other self continued, its voice carrying a strange firmness: “I’m not a ghost, nor a creation of your mind. Besides, you... you’re probably thinking sothing like: “They’re not really Victor, Laura, or Emily as I know them. Why should I care about them? Right? That’s what I’m thinking now, isn’t it?”
As it said this, my other self moved forward slowly, each step asured, almost ritualistic, until stopping just a few inches away from . The air between us seed denser, as if every word had physical weight: “And it’s because you always think that way... because you always act that way... that you fail. That you never advance. How many more tis will you need to fail before you finally let go of your arrogance?”
Its eyes, glowing with intense gold, seed to reflect sothing I feared to confront, piercing my soul like silent blades. For a mont, I was utterly confused.
Arrogant? ? Honestly, I’m as far from the word “arrogance” as possible. For a second, I wondered if this was just so mory surfacing in my mind—but was it really possible to speak to myself? Putting that doubt aside, a bigger question plagued : why the hell was it blaming ? I an, Laura, Emily, and Victor are alive in my world.
I saved them. So why insist on holding responsible for sothing that wasn’t even my fault? With this whirlwind of thoughts, I felt my lips move almost on their own, trying to organize my mind, seeking clarity amidst the chaos threatening to swallow .
Before I could form a word, my other self spoke again: “My thoughts are still as simple as ever” it said, its voice carrying a strangely deep, almost painful lancholy: “How much longer are you going to lock yourself in this bubble you built? Believing, naively, that none of this has anything to do with you?”
As it spoke, there was sothing in its eyes—or was it in that I saw reflected there?—a mix of reproach and sorrow, as if every word were an echo of truths I didn’t want to face. I moved my lips again, but no words ca out.
No concrete thought, no argunt, no matter how much I wanted to refute it. It was as if an invisible barrier had risen inside , blocking any attempt at a response. Almost as if... in so inexplicable way, I knew, deep down, that my other self was right.
My mont of silence was broken by a tired sigh from my other self: “This is completely useless” it said, frustration heavy in its voice.
Without waiting for a response, it turned and walked slowly toward the three motionless bodies in the snow, its steps sinking lightly into the icy layer, leaving silent tracks: “This cycle failed” it continued, looking at the frozen figures: “but another will follow, and so on, until I succeed”
Then it turned to , its eyes reflecting a determination that seed to consu the very reality around us: “Until you succeed”
I remained completely silent in front of my other self’s words. My previous thoughts simply died, vanishing like smoke in the wind, leaving a silent void behind. The reason? Simple: I couldn’t refute what it said. Every argunt of mine felt fragile, irrelevant, as if erased before it was even born.
I tried to find so resistance, so spark of objection, but realized it would be useless. In the end, there was nothing left to do but watch it from the side, almost like observing a distant storm—because, deep down, that was all I could still do.
Yes, even as these thoughts wandered through my mind, a subtle sound began echoing around . It was a delicate, tinkling noise, like crystal—or perhaps glass.
I honestly couldn’t tell for sure. As the sound grew, the space around began transforming almost supernaturally: translucent fragnts appeared from nowhere, like hundreds of shards of white glass floating in the air.
Slowly, they gathered, covering every corner around , reflecting light ethereally, until everything seed enclosed in a crystal prison that pulsed with an unsettling stillness.
I watched the scene in complete silence. Was I being transported to another space? Probably, but I couldn’t shake the nagging doubt forming in my mind: what would happen to this place when everything finished breaking apart? Would it disappear, as if it had never existed?
The question echoed endlessly, a persistent hum that seed to penetrate my deepest thoughts. Then I felt its presence—my other self—watching the situation unfold beside . Finally, it broke the silence, its voice carrying a strange certainty.
Its voice ca loaded with resignation, each word heavy with inevitability, as if all effort had been in vain. A heavy silence followed, filling the space around, before it murmured, almost hopelessly: “Looks like ti’s up”
My other self cast a calm glance over the white shapes slowly forming around us. Though its face remained indistinct, without clear features or expression, there was sothing about it—a silence full of understanding, as if, sohow, it knew exactly what was happening.
I felt a strange mont, as if sothing inside demanded to be spoken, though I didn’t know what. Still, I moved my lips, hoping so words would escape, but nothing ca. Before I could make a sound, my other self spoke: “I won’t say much... it wouldn’t matter anyway. Just... rember this”
The mont it said those words, it moved closer. It was only slightly bigger than , but that didn’t lessen the overwhelming presence it radiated.
I lifted my gaze toward its face, and to my surprise, the fog around it began to dissipate, slowly revealing its features. But what a face it was! Even staring, I couldn’t describe it.
There was sothing there beyond comprehension, as if every line, every shadow refused to settle into words. The expression in its eyes carried intentions I couldn’t decipher, and yet there was sothing strangely familiar about them.
Amid my confusion, a familiar voice broke the silence. It was my other self speaking, but in a way that made question if I truly understood who it—or I—really was: “Don’t pretend all the ti that nothing matters, that nothing touches you. My emotions may be lukewarm, scattered, almost gone—but they still exist... I still feel. Maybe less than others, but I still feel”
My other self held my gaze with silent intensity. I returned it, eyes locked, seeking an understanding that words alone couldn’t convey: “We... you feel far more than you could ever imagine, Zentharys”
I absorbed my other self’s words as the space around slowly began dissolving, swallowed by a whitish, artificial, almost hypnotic landscape. Every familiar contour disappeared, replaced by a cold, opaque mist, as if the world were being covered by a final layer of silence.
My last sight of my other self were its eyes—golden, deep—gradually darkened by the crystalline curtain now overtaking the environnt. Strangely, in that mont, they seed to shine less than usual, as if part of its essence were fading along with the world around us.
The next instant, when I regained consciousness, I realized I was no longer in the sa place. My eyes scanned the surroundings, up and down, searching for anything recognizable—but there was nothing.
The space I occupied seed to float between emptiness and absence; there was no ground beneath my feet, no ceiling above, not even a horizon to anchor . An almost tangible silence enveloped , and every thought seed to echo in a boundless space, amplifying the sense of strange disorientation and isolation.
Everything seed to drift in a sea of diffuse colors, as if subrged in a luminous mist that breathed slowly, alive on its own. Every gesture I made the ethereal substance ripple, like cosmic water expanding and retreating in gentle waves, reflecting hues I couldn’t na.
There was no weight; my feet barely touched anything solid, and my arms moved with unnerving freedom, floating like leaves carried by an invisible current.
A faint, almost imperceptible hum filled the air, and each breath seed to dissolve into the very light around , making the space simultaneously infinite and intimate, like a dream defying all laws of gravity.
The colors around were intense but strangely soft, as if every shade had been carefully whispered to the space. Burnt reds intertwined with deep blues and erald greens, forming filants of light that danced and curved in impossible movents.
So resembled solid smoke, winding through the air with a weightlessness that defied gravity; others looked like streams of liquid stars, pulsating and flowing like rivers of living energy. It was as if the entire cosmos had been compressed into that instant.
As my eyes struggled to adjust to the dimness, I noticed points of light flickering here and there—were they stars? Or just reflections dancing across my tired vision? In the near-complete silence, my gaze eventually fixed on a figure floating with ethereal lightness, like a fairy born from a dream.
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