A vast void stretched endlessly—dark, empty, and cold. The silence was thick, but faint notes of desert blues drifted through the air, soft and haunting, like a lonely guitar playing far away under a burning sun.
In the center, a tiny girl walked along a road that barely existed. She was small—just a toddler—fragile and lost, searching desperately for a way out of this strange, empty world.
Above her, black-and-white visions flickered across the sky, casting shadows that wrapped the darkness like a veil.
Chiaki shuffled forward slowly, her eyes fixed on the cracked ground beneath her feet. The voice came, low and bitter.
"You lied to me, Chiaki. You promised you'd help me. Where were you when I needed you the most?"
She paused, fingers trembling as she pulled her knees closer to her chest, head bowed. The voice grew colder.
"I waited, hoping you'd come. But you left me alone in this darkness, forgotten and betrayed."
Her breath hitched. She wiped at her eyes with small, shaking hands. The voice let out a bitter laugh, heavy with pain.
"Did those promises mean nothing? Were they just lies to keep me hopeful?"
"I didn't..." Her voice barely rose above a whisper, tears tracing cold paths down her cheeks. "I did everything I could." But the voice refused to fade. Instead, it grew darker, more menacing—like the void itself had come alive.
From the depths, dozens—no, hundreds—of black, writhing arms erupted, slithering through the darkness. They snaked around her ankles first, tightening their grip with chilling purpose, dragging her down deeper into the endless void.
"Don't hide from the truth, Chiaki. You killed me." The voice was steady and ruthless, each word sinking like a weight in her chest, filling her with dread.
"N-no! I didn't! Please—stop! I tried, I really tried!" Her voice trembled, but the grasp only tightened, unforgiving and cold.
The shadowed limbs crept higher, wrapping around her calves, then her thighs, squeezing with merciless strength. She struggled desperately, but her limbs felt heavy, weak—like she was sinking into quicksand.
Then, with horrifying swiftness, hands grabbed her head and face, fingers curling around her cheeks and pulling, dragging her downwards. Her body tilted backward as if the very darkness was swallowing her whole.
Her breath hitched, a choking cry escaping her lips as she felt herself being pulled deeper and deeper into the abyss—submerged beneath an ocean of shadows.
"No! Please!"
A scream tore from her throat, raw and unfiltered, echoing endlessly as the void closed over her, devouring her utterly.
Chiaki's torso jerked forward as she sat upright on the bed, her eyes wide with shock and raw fear. A sheen of warm sweat clung to her skin, dripping steadily onto the blanket that covered her legs. Her breaths came sharp and uneven, her chest rising and falling in a frantic rhythm that refused to slow.
She glanced to the side, her balance faltering as she reached out toward a small box resting on the nightstand. Her fingers trembled, knocking the box slightly before she collapsed onto her knees. Her gaze locked onto the pills inside, but it wasn't just hesitation—it was pure dread. The pills seemed to glare back at her, cold and accusing, like tiny sentinels of a prison she refused to serve.
She hated them. Feared them. Yet they were hers—her so-called medicine. After a long, tense moment, she forced herself to push the box away, sliding it back into its place like banishing a dark presence from her room.
She drew in a slow, deep breath, then let it out steadily, forcing her racing heart to ease its frantic rhythm. "Calm down, Chiaki. It's just another nightmare..." she whispered to herself. Gathering her strength, she pushed herself up from the bed and shuffled toward the sink. Turning the faucet gently, she let the cold water run, its steady drip a small comfort against the storm inside her.
Leaning over, she cupped the icy water in her hands and pressed it to her face, hoping to wash away the lingering shadows clinging to her skin. As the chill bit into her cheeks, she lifted her gaze—and froze.
Staring back at her from the mirror was not her own reflection, but the sharp, unreadable eyes of a man. The figure's presence was so sudden, so real, that a scream tore from Chiaki's throat. She stumbled backward, collapsing onto the floor in shock.
But as the pounding of her heart slowed and her breath returned, she realized it was nothing but her own imagination, a trick of the mind in the quiet dark.
Chiaki pressed a trembling hand to her face, her skin damp with the warm sweat of fear and lingering shock. Every image, every shadow she had just seen, was nothing more than her imagination—yet it felt far too real.
"It's always the same… the same thoughts I can't shake." She told herself. Her nightmares and memories clung to her like burrs, impossible to pull free. It was as though they were alive, haunting her every quiet moment, feeding on her mind.
They had begun after the day she resonated severed souls back together—a choice that had come with consequences she hadn't foreseen. Ever since, the nightmares had grown bolder, weaving themselves deeper into her thoughts, refusing to be silenced.
It had been months since the clash with Rhaziel and his men—months since the transformation that had quietly reshaped Chiaki. Though she still carried the lightness of youth, it was now tempered with a quiet grace that made her presence impossible to ignore. Her face, once softer and more rounded, had gained gentle definition, the subtle sharpening of her features only amplifying her beauty.
Her mauve hair, slightly darker at the roots than before, cascaded in loose, natural strands that framed her face and flowed down her back, catching the light in a way that made the color seem almost alive. Against the warmth of her complexion, her azure blue eyes shone all the brighter—still lively, yet carrying a depth that hinted at untold stories. She was prettier now than she had ever been: radiant, self-assured, and graced with an elegance born not in comfort, but in resilience. No longer just a girl, Chiaki stood as a young woman who could silence a room without a word.
A knock came at the door, followed by a familiar voice. "Chiaki… is everything alright?" It was Yuka, with Razor and Fioren by her side. Chiaki had nothing to hide from them, so she called out and let them in.
The light from the corridor spilled into the room as they entered. Chiaki greeted them, then turned and flicked the switch, brightening the space. Surrounded by them, she no longer felt alone. She leaned against the dining table, hands pressing into the surface as her eyes dropped to the carpet.
"Tomorrow's the plan to meet up with the others at the Land of Armagh. Are you sure you're going to be fine, Chiaki? You look pale, and we don't want you passing out and having more of those visions," Fioren said with worry.
"You don't need to stress over me. It's been two months since these visions started. We've already delayed ourselves here long enough. Ralphie and the others are waiting, and we can't ignore that. What worries me most is how they'll take the news about their captain. He hasn't woken up since I healed him."
Her eyes drifted toward the other bedroom. The door was shut tight, the darkness behind it undisturbed. Inside, Temoshí had lain in a deep coma ever since the day they brought him here.
"I know you've probably already made up your mind," Fioren said, her tone steady but thoughtful. "But with Temoshí like this—barely himself and unable to move—maybe it's best if you take the lead for now, Chiaki. Venos should already be waiting at his boat, though I doubt you'd ever consider leaving Temoshí behind..." She knew better than anyone how close Chiaki was to him, how deeply she understood him compared to the rest of the crew.
Chiaki's eyes shifted once more toward the door, the barrier between her and the room where Temoshí lay unconscious. "Of course we won't abandon him. Lyvoria Crest is no place for someone in his state. We'll bring him with us... and once we reach the Land of Armagh, he can rest safely on the ship."
"What about you, Yuka? Are you planning to come with us?" Chiaki asked, turning toward her, half-expecting she had other missions waiting.
Yuka gave a faint shrug. "Truth is, I didn't do much here. But I can't leave the rest of my tasks unfinished. I'll head on to Gravefin Island—I was supposed to go there right after Lyvoria Crest."
"Gravefin...?" Fioren's voice carried a spark of curiosity the moment Yuka mentioned the name. Her expression shifted, as though a memory had surfaced. "I've heard of it before. It lies far from here, but it's not just distance that makes it difficult to reach. Zharrok once spoke of Gravefin to me, saying it concealed truths that had been deliberately buried, secrets that might change everything we know. That was reason enough for me to want to see it for myself."
She straightened, her tone more resolute. "If you're truly heading there, Yuka, I would like to join you. Whatever lies hidden in Gravefin could prove too important to ignore. And I assure you—I won't hinder your path."
Out of nowhere, Razor's voice crashed into the conversation, loud and unhinged, startling most of them with the sheer force of her interruption. "Gravefin, huh? Gravefin, Gravefin—whatever that damned place is about, I couldn't give a rat's bum!" she barked, throwing her head back with a manic grin. "I'm going with Chiaki, no question about it! I gotta know what it feels like to roast under a desert sun, to taste sand in my teeth, to fight where the ground itself wants you dead—wa-hahaha!"
Chiaki couldn't help but notice the irony of Razor's excitement over deserts, considering she was more like a creature born of the sea than the sand. Adjusting the headphones resting around her neck, she turned toward the door where Temoshí lay resting and spoke calmly.
"I'm not exactly the kind of person who's fit to take on the role of captain, but for now, I'll do what I can. Yuka, if you're willing, you can decide who joins you. And Razor—going into a desert might not be the wisest idea for someone like you, but if that's what you want, I won't stand in your way. My words don't have to mean much, since I'm only filling in for a while, but in the end it's your choice where you go and who you follow."
The door creaked open softly, revealing a room steeped in shadow. With the shutters drawn tight, no light managed to slip through, leaving the space dim and heavy with silence.
There he was—Temoshí—still and unmoving, his body lost to unconsciousness ever since the day his soul had been severed. Even though Chiaki had pieced his spirit back together, something deeper held him in that unyielding coma, beyond her reach.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Chiaki stepped closer, her eyes searching desperately for the smallest twitch, a sign of life—a flinch, a breath, anything. But there was nothing. Not even the faint stir of a muscle.
"You've been lying there in the same position since that day," she whispered, her voice breaking with doubt. "I don't see any changes. Did I… do something wrong? I know I reconstructed your soul—I can feel it, I can see it glowing faintly in your heart—but then why? Why won't you wake up? No one else has ever stayed like this after having their soul severed..."
Her hand pressed against his chest, searching for the faint rhythm beneath. The beat was there—sluggish, weaker than it should have been, yet undeniably alive. That steady pulse was all the proof she needed. "I can't even reach your soul anymore… it feels hollow, like there's nothing left inside. And that emptiness… it terrifies me."
Her arms shook with that buried fear she'd been trying to keep down, but she still tried to hide it, keeping herself composed even though the sight of him lying there—caught between alive and not—was something she couldn't fully handle.
"What am I even supposed to do for you? What did Rhaziel really do? Did he actually tear your soul apart… or was it something even worse?"
To be continued...