Whispered her name.
She touched the glass protecting the strange equipment, her face reflected on it. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against the pillar that held it upright. She knelt down, her legs trembling, and pressed the glass against her fingers.
She massaged her temple, begging the whispering voices to fall silent. She did not want to hear them anymore, wanted distance from the past. But increasingly, a certain day became clearer.
On that same bed, she sat, watching her feet swing. She stared at herself in the mirror, her face, once young, now more mature. She asked herself if, on that day, everything would change.
Going to the bathroom, she found, hidden in the shower's shadows, a robot. She swallowed dryly, the memories of her parents...
She would not remain there for another second.
At the touch of a button, the iron chest opened. She stepped inside, a rubber seat supporting her back, and vision revealed itself before robotic eyes.
She moved an arm, the robot extended an arm. She brought her hand closer, and the palm was exposed before her. One step, she walked, creating a small crack in the white floor.
The door stood before her. The robotic hand touched it. As she closed her eyes, wires attached to her skull pulsed.
And a flame emerged.
Melting as fast as she could imagine.
From that moment onward, her mind was lost like vision covered in blood.
Children fell before her. Adults begged for mercy, forgiveness, but none was given.
... And there was never a moment when she stopped crying.
Upon entering a room, the professor was there, standing still, watching the flames rise throughout the building through the glass, one arm behind his back and one hand on his cane. He asked her why she had not left yet. She had already condemned everyone. Him included. The machine's deep voice echoed.
Only he remained.
He turned toward her. Killing them and escaping that place would never make her forget what she endured for years, so why spill more blood? Aurora, wiping her face with her hands, said that everyone in that place were vermin who hurt her, humiliated her... they deserved to die. He, however, approaching her, merely stated something before her.
Aurora had become worse than him.
Worse than the children who hurt her.
Worse than the Renkai Creatures because, unlike her, ordinary demons were merely animals acting against life instinctively.
She, however, chose this. Chose to stain herself.
Then, with a scream, the hands crushed the man's head, and he fell before her. She remained paralyzed. The machine covered in red liquid, but when she looked at herself, she seemed submerged in the same liquid.
As she crouched, small projected rockets ignited. The body destroyed rooftops. A forest revealed itself to her, surrounding that place. She flew toward the unknown horizon, her eyes drenched...
Until everything, at some point her mind could not remember, faded away.
And when she awoke, she was in a hospital bed. Flowers had been placed beside her. She touched them, soft petals, damp, real. She removed them from the vase, smelled them, and a sigh escaped.
A knock came at the door and a man entered. He sat beside her in silence. Aurora pulled away from him, her fingers gripping the pillows.
He warned her that he would not hurt her, that she was completely safe. She, without hesitation, asked his name.
Rito.
... Rito Zen Heng.
He briefly explained what had happened: she had been found floating naked in a river. By great luck, no Renkai Creature had been nearby, but many bones had been broken. Libretãnhya's technology had managed to ensure that, at the very least, she would recover well.
And she had remained unconscious for a week.
And he was also impressed by what he discovered. A machine stood only a few meters before her. Then he questioned whether it belonged to her.
She froze. Her heart began beating frantically and her body trembled. She covered herself and looked away. He ran a hand over his face, taking that as confirmation.
He stood up, adjusted his tie, and spoke directly. She would serve him. Regardless of where she came from, that place would be the best she had ever known.
And it was... for a time.
She remembered when she met the young prodigies, survivors of the village led by the Noughter. The man, with a calm smile, courteously asked for her hand to kiss it, as a sign of politeness. The woman looked at him with furrowed brows. And he lowered his hand before Aurora could react.
However, there was an older woman behind them, laughing. Such was youth, some so bold, others embarrassed. Aurora agreed. She asked about her presence. That woman was their master, had adopted them for a time and now they were capable of taking care of themselves. Then she asked her name.
Morgana.
Suddenly, reality revealed itself before her eyes, lying on the white floor. Then the murmur escaped, how had she not recognized her? Perhaps... perhaps decades changed people greatly. That woman, when she first met her, so young. And the last time she saw her, the Prime Minister, gray hair already growing from the roots... how could she forget?
As she sat on the floor, she observed the weapons for a moment. The perfect hour had arrived, she had to act... before the foolish master died.
For countless hours, shattered glass spread across the floor, blood spraying, and screams escaping while the figure distorted through the silhouettes.
The broken pieces of weapons lay scattered across the ground, ashes floating through the air. But before her, there was something greater. A chair, and beside it, liquids colored like lead slowly swaying.
She sat in the chair. And the memories repeated in brief flashes. In that instant, she thought of everything she had done. The creations, the lives she saved... even if the body paid the price. Rebirth, destruction, evolution...
And probably now, acceptance.
There was no reason to remain this way. Human.
A pattern always formed.
Aurora was always doomed to lose her humanity.
And there, in that place, everything would become reality.
She only wished not to lose consciousness. It did not matter if she could no longer smell the perfume of her favorite flowers, taste greasy food, or even surrender to the simple desire of lying on a couch after an exhausting day... she only did not want to lose what was most valuable: the ability to know the truth.
She gripped the chair's arms and bid farewell to everything, dark tears streaming from both eyes.
From the Aurora who cried for a harsh answer.
From the Aurora who hid herself through coldness.
From the human Aurora.
From Aurora.
And from everyone she had known. In one possibility, there would be no chance to say goodbye again. So, unable to face them eye to eye, it had to be this way. In silence.
Then, she pressed the button.
The iron chair trembled. As the flesh tore apart, instincts tried to make her interrupt the process. Her eyes began to lose their shine, fracture, until they detached from her face.
Thus...
The light went out.