The dreadful wails of mothers and their children flood my ears. The smell of burning flesh, rot, and something more nasty permeates the air.
The smell sticks to my lungs, and it stings. It feels like I'm breathing death itself.
Pitch-black flames rise into the sky, twisting and dancing like they're alive. They don't flicker like normal fire, but they move with purpose, clinging to people.
To silhouettes, to the many bodies that meet my gaze. They don't just burn them. The flames devour these screaming bodies.
I stare at the scene with a broken gaze.
I'm no saint. In fact, I have never been a good person.
I've lied, I've fought, I've ignored people who needed help, and I've chosen myself over others more times than I can count.
But this!?
What kind of monster sacrifices an entire world for power!?
What kind of being turns mothers and children into fuel for their own gains!?
'…Oh.'
I know who it is.
It's those bastards!
The Apostles!
The self-proclaimed messengers of "salvation."
Are human lives worth nothing in their eyes?
Were we just materials?
Just numbers serving the 'greater' good?
They toyed with us.
They smiled while preaching hope.
They promised protection.
And then they burned the world.
They will pay!
They—
Why do I feel so cold?
That thought interrupts everything.
The screams are still loud.
The flames are still rising like heralds of death.
But I feel cold. And colder still.
The realisation creeps in slowly and painfully.
'Oh.'
My throat burns.
It feels like my gut has been torn open.
I try to scream again. "....!"
Nothing comes out.
How long have I been screaming?
I look down slowly.
My body is black.
Cracked and charred into a disgusting mess.
The skin has peeled away, and bones are visible everywhere.
'Oh.'
And I'm burning too.
'Ahh...'
I'm inside this scorching hell with the rest of them.
No wonder I can't scream.
My lungs are probably gone.
My voice burned away long ago.
But then…
Why is it cold?
Flames are supposed to be hot.
Right?
Why is it so damn cold!?
Is this death?
Is this what it feels like when it starts pulling you in?
I lift my hands.
Or what's left of them.
Ash falls from my fingers. The skin crumbles like dry paper.
The wind takes pieces of me away slowly with the flames.
Whatever bones were holding me up give out, and I collapse into nothing.
I'm staring at the ground now.
Cracked concrete, black soot, and melted glass.
How am I even still alive?
'Is this how it ends?'
I couldn't save her.
I couldn't save myself.
I couldn't save anyone.
The screams start fading.
The crackling flames grow distant.
Everything becomes muffled.
Like I'm underwater.
Like I'm sinking.
Lower.
Lower.
Lower still
Until only a faint echo remains.
Then—
Complete darkness.
Whatever was keeping my soul tethered to my body finally lets go.
And then silence.
Complete silence.
Complete darkness.
I guess…
I'm finally dead.
…
My eyes snap open only to be assaulted by bright light.
I look up, shielding my eyes from the sudden influx of light. A ceiling.
White walls.
Clean air.
There's no smoke.
There are no screams.
And no flames.
"Did you wear contact lenses today, Vex?"
"Huh?"
That voice.
That voice.
No.
No.
No!
I turn my head slowly.
And I see her.
Standing beside my desk.
She looks so...Alive?
My chest tightens.
April?
Her long hair falls over her delicate shoulders just like it used to. A soft brown colour, and slightly messy. She always tied it up halfway through the day because it annoyed her.
Her blue eyes are clear, bright, and so full of life.
She's wearing the school uniform.
The old one.
The one we wore three years ago.
She's smiling at me.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" she says. "Did you actually wear contact lenses? Wait… you did, didn't you?"
"...."
My vision blurs.
I can't stop it.
Tears stream down my face.
I don't even wipe them.
If this is a dream…
Please don't wake me up.
And if this is the afterlife…
Please.
Just let this last forever.
She frowns adorably.
"Why are you crying, Vex? I know you want to look cool, but differently coloured contact lenses are so out of style."
My hands are shaking.
My body feels heavy.
Is this real? It feels so real.
"It's nothing," I whisper.
My voice works.
It's hoarse.
But it works.
"It's nothing, April."
She raises an eyebrow.
"It's just..." I choke on my own voice; I can't hold myself together. Somehow, I manage to say the words, "You look so beautiful, April."
She freezes.
Then she looks away quickly.
"Idiot," she mutters.
Her ears turn red.
She's embarrassed, and she's alive.
Alive.
The words sound so impossible. I grip the edge of the desk.
I remember.
The floor splitting open in this exact same room.
That large hall we were summoned into.
The king on his throne.
The apostle who had summoned us.
And the white halo behind her head.
April's death.
My death.
Earth's end.
I close my eyes.
This isn't the afterlife.
It's too detailed.
The classroom smells like chalk.
The fan above makes that annoying ticking sound it always made.
There's a crack in the window in the back left corner.
Everything is exactly how it used to be.
Exactly.
The date.
I look at the board.
Three years ago.
Before the first summoning.
Before humanity learned what despair truly meant.
My breathing quickens.
'This isn't a dream.'
It can't be.
I dig my nails into my palm. The pain is sharp and real, very real.
Was the whole thing about being summoned to another world a dream?
No. It can't be. I remember every moment vividly. I remember the day she died, exactly one year ago.
I remember myself burning.
I remember the summonings that happened after us.
So, the question is, why am I back here, at this particular point in time?
Is this nothing but vestiges of my life before I finally cross over to the afterlife?
I don't think so.
So, have I been sent back in time?
Probably.
But why... Is this some twisted joke the gods like to play on us mortals?
If it is…
Then I'm tired of your sick humor.
I truly hope, for your sake, that the day I gain the power to trample upon you never comes.
Because if it does…
I will burn your heavens the same way you burned my world.
I will drag your so-called Apostles down from their thrones.
I will make you understand despair.
The kind you forced us to kneel in.
The kind that makes mothers scream!
The kind that turns children into ash!
If this is regression...
If this is a second chance…
Then I won't waste it!