I'm not sure how many minutes have passed since I arrived here. Time feels distorted in this place, as if the air itself were heavier and every second stretched beyond what's normal.
Even so, something deep inside me keeps whispering that this isn't the first time I've set foot here. The feeling is unsettling, almost suffocating — a strange mix of nostalgia and unease.
I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to pull from the shadows of memory any trace that could explain this disturbing sense of familiarity. As I feared, nothing came. No memory, only the echo of a silent certainty that I've been through this before... and somehow, I forgot why.
Finding no immediate solution, I simply decided to let the matter rest — at least for now. My eyes drifted, almost instinctively, to the figure still floating slowly in the air, moving so gently it seemed to defy the very concept of gravity.
By now, of course, I knew exactly who she was. I allowed myself a brief moment of reflection before offering a faint, resigned smile: (After all, what kind of big brother would I be if I just let her wander around here... wherever "here" actually is?)
With that thought in mind, I tried to approach Eryanis. But honestly, how was I even supposed to move in a place like this? The very idea of walking felt strange, almost impossible. I braced myself for resistance, maybe some crushing weight pressing down on me.
Yet when I finally moved, the experience was... surprisingly simple. Almost unnatural. My steps — if you could even call them that — flowed effortlessly, as though the space itself were guiding me toward her. It was as if my intentions mattered more than any physical motion.
My body seemed to know exactly how to move here, as though it had done so my entire life. Each step, each shift, each gesture came automatically, almost instinctively, without conscious thought. It was as if my body had memorized every detail of this place, even while my mind insisted that all of this was new.
Realizing this sent a chill through me — how absurd was that? — and I couldn't help but think wryly: (Maybe I'm the strangest amnesiac who's ever existed)
The thought drifted through my mind like a cold breeze, lingering only for a moment before I shoved it back into the corner where all the others lay, silent and forgotten. I took a deep breath and began to move deliberately through the space, each step echoing almost imperceptibly.
Eryanis's direction felt obvious, but there was something odd about the sense of distance itself — as if space here bent in ways I couldn't understand. When I first saw her, she hadn't seemed near or far, as though the very idea of distance was warped in this place.
Now, as I drew closer, the strangeness of it all only deepened, making every step feel like a small act of defiance against logic. And then, as soon as I took my first step, something strange happened — Eryanis's position seemed to shift subtly, as if she were sliding through space without actually moving.
See, I was supposed to be the one closing the distance between us. But instead, it was as if the environment itself conspired to bring us together, folding space around us. With each movement, the sensation grew stronger, as though the world itself was breathing, rearranging, bringing Eryanis closer — not by my effort, but by its own will.
Setting aside how unnerving that was, when I finally reached her, the first thing I did was look at her. Her eyes were still closed, her body slightly curled in on itself, like a small shell protecting itself from the world.
Her long hair floated around her, swaying softly as though submerged in water, giving her an almost ethereal aura. It was a strangely beautiful sight — delicate, even — but there was something lonely about it too, as though the entire scene carried a heavy, untouchable silence.
I blinked once, feeling the world around me waver for just a fraction of a second. At that same moment, a thought came — not from me, but from the other me I had met before. It made me hesitate, and before I knew it, I caught myself wondering: (What kind of expression am I making right now?)
I never did see the other me's expression. Truth be told, his face — even when right in front of me — felt like something I couldn't, maybe even shouldn't, see. It was as if a strange distortion hovered over him: even though I could see every feature clearly, there wasn't enough clarity to truly distinguish anything.
His features blurred into something that defied my perception, as if my mind refused to translate that image into something comprehensible. In any case, I turned my attention back to Eryanis. For a few seconds, I simply watched her, noticing how peaceful she seemed at that moment.
Then, I touched her forehead with my finger. The feeling of her skin — soft and faintly cool — spread through my fingertip as I brushed it lightly. Just as I suspected, Eryanis didn't react. Her expression stayed serene, almost otherworldly, as though she were lost in a dream she'd never need to wake from — though, as far as I know, she doesn't even need sleep.
Pushing that unsettling thought aside, I touched her forehead again and, with my other hand, let my fingers glide gently through her hair, as if trying to soothe something I couldn't quite name.
I repeated that motion several times, in an almost hypnotic rhythm, until I lost all sense of time — I couldn't say if it had been minutes or hours. There was something strangely comforting in that simple act, as if, somehow, the entire world had gone quiet just to let that moment exist.
And then, as I allowed myself to sink into that feeling, Eryanis finally stirred. Her expression, once marked by tension, softened, and an unexpected calm washed over her face, as though some invisible weight had been lifted from her.
Moments later, Eryanis slowly opened her eyes, and the unique geometric pattern — always in motion, spinning to its own rhythm — glowed in her iris with a nearly hypnotic light. She blinked a few times, still groggy, before finally focusing her gaze on me.
Only then did she seem to notice that I was holding her in a princess carry — though, in truth, there was no ground beneath our feet. We both floated softly in the air, as if suspended by an invisible breeze.
"Zentharys..." Eryanis began, her voice sounding oddly lower, emptier, almost a whisper that dissolved into the air. There was a chill there, a painful contrast to her once warm tone, as if something inside her had cracked: "I... I disappointed you, didn't I?" Her eyes searched mine: "Our last promise..." she murmured, and the pause that followed seemed to weigh on everything around us.
Eryanis kept her gaze locked on me after speaking, as though trying to read every line of my face. There was something almost hypnotic in her stare — a quiet intensity that made me hesitate before finally looking away.
My eyes turned to what might have been the horizon, if it could be called that. The sight before me was breathtaking, too unreal to belong to the waking world, yet with a disturbing sharpness, as though I were dreaming but still able to feel every detail around me.
Of course, thinking back to Eryanis's words, I knew exactly what she meant. Even so, something about it gnawed at me. When I met my other self, something strange happened — his memories, in some way, were passed on to me. I don't know if it was natural, as if our existences were merging, or if he had consciously decided to give them to me.
Either way, I knew exactly what Eryanis was trying to tell me. I also understood the reason behind every one of her actions since the moment we met — every gesture, every silence, every word spoken or swallowed. Maybe that's why what I said to her came out simple, yet so full of sincerity: (You're still overthinking things... as always, Eryanis)
As soon as I spoke, I saw confusion spread across Eryanis's face. Her eyes — so beautiful and deep they looked like they held an entire sun — stayed fixed on me, as if trying to pierce my skin and read the essence behind my words.
For a moment, I couldn't help but smile slightly at how adorable she looked when she was confused. I took a deep breath, a gentle warmth filling my chest, and continued softly: (You know... you, Althea, Nekra, and Nyara — you're all my precious little sisters. I'll always be proud of each of you. I see how hard you work to fulfill your duties, and I also know how lonely you must feel sometimes)
Eryanis, who had listened silently, kept her eyes on me for several long seconds. Her beautiful eyes — bright yet shadowed — seemed to reflect everything she wasn't saying. Then, slowly, she lowered her face, as though her emotions were too heavy to hold up.
When she finally spoke, her voice came out low and soft, almost a whisper, but filled with painful honesty, as if each word had been kept hidden for far too long: "I... I wanted to be like you... graceful, powerful, reliable. You can't be with us all the time — you never can. So, I thought I should be the one to keep all the sisters together. I tried to be like you, to act like you... but I failed"
Eryanis fell silent, as though weighing every word before continuing. Her face, once cast downward, slowly lifted, revealing an intense look that locked onto mine. Her eyes gleamed as if they reflected something only she could see.
"You are graceful..." she said, her voice a soft whisper but heavy with some strange gravity: "Graceful not just in the way you move, but in how you carry your pain, how you manage to smile even when everything around you is falling apart. But that same grace..." her expression darkened: "can be cruel. Because sometimes you use it as a veil, a delicate mask, to hide what you're really feeling"
She took a deep breath, as if each word had to cross a minefield before reaching her lips: "You are powerful..." she said, her voice low and weighty, as if confessing a forbidden truth. Then she continued, this time with a sharp edge in her tone: "Powerful enough to shape the world around you, to bend reality if you wanted to... and yet you hesitate"
Her eyes narrowed, almost challenging: "Your power is both a gift and a curse" she went on, each syllable heavy with something between admiration and resentment: "It demands a price... a price you know better than anyone. Maybe that's why you're afraid to use it"
Eryanis's lips moved again, and her eyes glowed with an almost unearthly intensity, reflecting something that felt deeper than words.
"And you are reliable..." she murmured, her voice soft like a secret about to be lost to the wind: "Reliable enough that everyone leans on you without even realizing the weight they're placing on your shoulders. But that same trust is a chain — it traps you, because it convinces you that you can't fail, that you can't falter even for a second. And so you stay silent, even when everything inside you is screaming to give up, to let go of the burden and simply breathe"
When Eryanis finally fell silent, I remained quiet too. Not because I disagreed with her — in truth, her words carried an uncomfortable weight of truth — but because I simply couldn't find anything to say.
Was I tired? Yes... but not in the way she seemed to suggest. It wasn't physical, not even emotional exhaustion — it was something deeper, something I rarely admitted even to myself. Have I always thought of my powers as a curse? Maybe.
They are useful, no doubt — they've saved me more times than I can count — but every time I feel that strength rising inside me, it's as though a piece of my humanity slips further away, crumbling into some deep abyss. It's a silent price, almost imperceptible, but impossible to ignore when the silence swallows everything, like now.