Cocoon of Resurrection?
Is that something Olympia has alluded to before? I don't recall hearing her bring such a thing up. But at this point, can I trust my memories?
Who knows?
But I won't unravel this mystery if I don't follow Olympia toward this Cocoon of Destruction.
So as I blindly follow her to a destination unknown, we pass neighborhoods that seem familiar, but due to the dark, I still can't distinguish where exactly we are.
But there's something else that makes it challenging to decipher where we are and where we're going.
The street is littered with what seems to be a sort of shedding.
I can barely see what's in front of me, but these sheddings seem to be from the scales of a butterfly wing.
But what lies beneath my feet is of little importance. All I have to do is follow Olympia.
That is all I have to do.
That is all I can do.
After a while, we made it to the place where I presume Olympia believes the Cocoon of Resurrection lies in wait.
Wait, isn't this…our school building?
Then, still without a word shared between Olympia and me since her telling me of the Coccon of Resurrection, she grabs my hand and pulls me along; I'm no longer simply following behind her.
As we walk amongst the halls, the lockers that once served as a sacred storage for students are wrapped with what at first glance seems to be vines, but are silk threads. The classrooms, too, are engrossed by silk threads, but within them I can see students no longer human, their skin lacquered with chitin, their antennae brushing against the ceiling like they're listening to some frequency I can't comprehend.
But I don't have the time to worry about any of this. So I ignore it. I neglect it. These things that are no longer human aren't a concern to me. Gripping Olympia's hand firmer, as if trying to confirm that she's there, I continue to follow her lead.
We soon begin to ascend the stairway, and beneath us is the same shedding of feathers. Tch. Why must I always stare down at my feet when climbing up stairs? Is it because I don't know what's up ahead? Or maybe I do, and I want to delay finally reaching what lies at that peak.
Olympia takes a moment break. Maybe her legs are tired. Maybe she's tired. But it's not long before she begins to climb the stairs.
A part of me wants to tell her that it's not too late to turn back. That we can forget everything that has happened so far. That we can continue living within our delusion.
But another part, the foolish part of me, wants to uncover the truth. Even if it comes at the cost of this person I hold within my hand, Olympia Ventura.
After what felt like an eternity.
After what felt like a mere moment.
We make it to the roof. A low humming fills the air—like a chorus of wings just beyond hearing. The silk threads brushing against my sleeves are sticky, warm, almost pulsing, as if alive. A scent clings to the air, sweet and sickly, like overripe fruit left in the sun.
There's no turning back.
And what lies in front of us is what Olympia had promised to show me.
The Cocoon of Resurrection.
"So," Olympia breaks the cocoon of silence, "we've made it."
The Cocoon of Resurrection.
What first appears to be made of some sort of sphere made of stone is, in actuality, woven of silk. White, pure, but also, too white, too pure. Angelic, but as if its holiness is but a facade created to lure in whichever idiot stands before it.
"Kiyo, I'll ask you this only once: are you sure you want to see the true Olympia Ventura? After this, we can never go back. You need to be more than 100% positive that this is what you want."
"..."
I don't respond.
All I do is stare at her.
All she does is stare back at me.
Neither of us is happy.
Both of us know that this will make us unhappy.
But the two of us know that this is how it must be.
Even if it leads to the end of the world.
Even if it leads to the end of our world.
"I see. So this is what you want. Well, so be it.
"Kiyo Kiyo,
"Ciao ciao."
She lets go of my hand and, without looking back, walks towards the Cocoon of Resurrection.
Once she's only a step away from entering, she tries to look back at me, but fails. I'm glad that she did.
Then, as if there was nothing in her way, she entered the cocoon, which, to my eyes, seemed as if she were absorbed by the thing.
She's inside now. Unidentifiable characters begin to encircle the cocoon. It glows white. Then, it flickers. On, off, on, off. Seemingly matching the pace of my heartbeat. Until it no longer does.
Then, as if it were a part of her all along, the witch emerges without breaking open the cocoon.
First comes her head, then her arms.
She stretched her arms out at me, caressing my face.
Her eyes are closed, and then opened. And once she realizes where she is and what's going on, our eyes lock, she smiles, and then,
She kisses me.
And just like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon, the witch makes her grand entrance.
The witch is wearing an entirely different outfit from Olympia's. Dressed in what appears to be a golden yukata, and without long, pink-dyed hair, now replaced short, sun-kissed brown hair.
As if she transformed into an entirely different person—or she reverted to who she originally was.
"Tura-tura!" The butterfly chirps. The sound clashes horribly with the cocoon's stillness, and for a moment I feel like I've wandered into a child's dream, or a corpse's. "You've found me! You've finally found me! Me. The real me. The Witch of Perfection, Venterra. I was waiting oh-so-long for someone to come and find me. Everyone I approached, although influenced by me, couldn't see me, the real me. So, what is it that you want from me? Considering you've spent a gratuitous amount of time searching for me."
I can't respond.
This overwhelming presence is too much for me.
Far too much.
Is this the witch we've been searching for?
But isn't this just—
"Seems like you need some time to reflect and gather your thoughts. So, time I shall grant you. If you wish to find your Pollyanna, you know where to find me:
"The place where it all began."
She leans in, lips barely parted, and blows. The dust dances like golden snow—my vision tilts. For a moment, I see double—two Venterras, one smiling and one weeping—and then everything goes white. I instinctively shut my eyes, and within an instant, she's gone. As if by some miraculous way, she grew wings and flew far, far away.
But—I know that she's not too far.
I know where she is.
My lungs still hold her breath.