"Yhtill?" Margrethe II of House Ingrid, Queen of Eternal Galaxy, repeated the word with curiosity.
She was standing in the grand balcony of her castle, looking out at the bright pink hue of the third moon of Planet Challa’ha.
Between her fingers, she twisted and folded a piece of paper absentmindedly.
Yes, a Voice echoed in her mind. I... created it.
"Why?" Margrethe asked.
I... don’t rember, the Voice answered. mories are jumbled. I often try to latch onto so of them, but it threatens to loosen my grip over the more... important ones.
Margrethe frowned.
It sounded complex, but she understood.
It shouldn’t be any different from ruling a thousand planets and rembering all races.
All she could do was trust her followers to keep track of all of them while she rembered the races that mattered most for the overall well-being of the Eternal Galaxy.
As its Queen, she had learned how to steel her heart against such a double standard.
Yes... the Voice nodded. Sothing like that.
"What kind of place is Yhtill?" Margrethe asked.
The Voice kept quiet for so ti.
She had beco used to that by now.
Often, when she asked a question to the Voice, it would disappear for years.
When it returned, it would return with the answer, as if not a mont had passed for it.
So, when the Voice didn’t answer her question outright, she had already considered waiting for a dozen years for its eventual return.
To her utter surprise, the gap between the question and answer wasn’t because of the Voice’s disappearance, but... because of its deliberate silence.
... It’s hidden, the Voice answered.
Margrethe let the shock of its return wash over her and let it go.
Then, focusing on the answer itself, she asked, "Who hid it?"
I... the Voice said with a lost tone. I hid it...
Margrethe couldn’t relate to such a baffling phenonon.
The Voice created a city called Yhtill, then hid its location before forgetting what kind of place it was.
It’s supposed to be a haven, the Voice clarified. I... don’t rember, but I can feel it.
That alard Margrethe. "A Haven is supposed to be a sanctuary, no?" she asked. "A protection for its residents. But protection from what? Like Challa’ha is a Haven for my subjects from the galactic raiders, cosmic beasts, and whatnot. Do you understand?"
I do... the Voice replied. You are asking why I created Yhtill...
And once again, Margrethe was perplexed by the Voice’s logical skills.
More often than not, the Voice felt it couldn’t think properly and struggled to put two words together. Sotis, it outright ignored the aning behind the questions, as if it had failed to grasp the vocabulary.
Then there were tis when the Voice shocked her with its not-so-lost intelligence.
"Yes," Margrethe nodded. "I know I asked the sa question before, but... It’s different."
I understand... the Voice said, sounding more... interested. One is the act of creation, the other is the reason behind the creation.
Queen Margrethe stood on the balcony, looking at the lush pink moon, a chill running down her spine.
This was the first ti, in five hundred years, that she had heard the Voice capable of making such deep distinctions between so words.
Haha... the Voice laughed at her thoughts. Perhaps... perhaps it’s because the ti is coming...
"Ti for what?!" Margrethe asked suddenly, forgetting about her previous question.
The forgetful Voice paradoxically still rembered her previous question, though.
From myself... it answered. To hide it from myself... from a different ...
Margrethe held onto the balcony’s edge, alard.
State is strange... the Voice admitted. I... am more than one, but also only one. I close my eyes and see... lives, infinite. Not all are pleasant.
The Queen’s heart within Margrethe went out for the helplessness in the Voice’s words.
She couldn’t understand it completely, but she could feel it.
"So, these different you are against you?" Margrethe asked, trying her utmost to ask the most important questions to understand the situation better.
To her chagrin, the answerer itself seed to have no clue.
They were... the Voice said, reminiscing. They are... They will be... It was necessary to keep Yhtill safe... yes... It was very necessary...
"But you also said you are only one," Margrethe pointed out.
For the second ti in her life, and only a mont after the first one, the Voice went quiet.
Perhaps, this ti, it had indeed disappeared, gone for an even longer term than the usual ti period, paying the price of its earlier quietness?
But sothing within Margrethe’s heart told her that wasn’t the case.
The Voice was still here, ruminating over her question, over and over, hoping to find an answer to the question itself.
A lone gust of wind brushed against Margrethe’s hair.
Yes... The Voice answered, sounding eerily firm. I am One. I must... be the only One.
Margrethe didn’t know why, but the use of only this ti around made her heart skip a beat. She felt like she had made it rember sothing that she shouldn’t have, not without a proper grasp of the situation. Not only that, but the odd firmness of the tone also made her realize that the Voice could disappear at any mont, and for not decades, but centuries this ti.
No.
She couldn’t let it go.
Not without answering her question that she had already asked.
"You ntioned ti is coming," Queen Margrethe reminded, her voice gaining the sa firmness. "What did you an by that?"
The Voice didn’t answer outright, but nor did it keep quiet.
There was a whimper in Margrethe’s mind, a distinct hum, as if it were chewing on the words, thinking... thinking — whether to utter them or not.
"What ti?" Margrethe pressed.
Ti... the Voice said, distancing itself. Ti for the Primordial’s return...
And stunned beyond bounds, Margrethe continued to stand in her place as the Voice vanished, leaving behind the echo of the words that kept thinning in her mind.
Slowly, and absentmindedly, she looked down.
With a gasp, Margrethe stumbled back, color draining from her face.
At so point in ti, she seed to have finished creating an origami, but it was not what she had intended to create in the beginning.
The tiny Origami now looked like a robed figure.
The ends of the paper robe were tattered, billowing behind the figure, seemingly reaching to an unknown, infinite distance...
... hiding Yhtill forever!
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