Scene 147 — "You Forgot Me"
There was no sky.
No ground.
No horizon.
No beginning.
No end.
The Traveler opened his eyes.
He stood barefoot upon black stone.
He looked around.
Nothing.
The world stretched endlessly in every direction.
No wind moved.
No sound existed.
Even his breathing seemed strangely distant.
Then—
he saw it.
Far ahead.
A throne.
It stood alone in the endless darkness.
Obsidian.
Not carved from stone.
Made from something that looked as though the darkness itself had hardened into a shape.
The Traveler stared.
Something about it disturbed him.
Not because it was frightening.
Because it felt familiar.
He took one step.
The sound echoed across the impossible world.
Then another.
The throne grew larger.
And someone was sitting upon it.
The Traveler stopped.
His breath caught.
The figure slowly lifted his head.
White hair.
Pale skin.
The same eyes.
The same face.
The Traveler stared at himself.
But this version had no mask.
His face was completely visible.
His expression was cold.
Not confused.
Not uncertain.
Not searching.
He knew exactly where he was.
And he knew exactly who stood before him.
The Traveler's lips parted.
"...Who are you?"
The figure on the throne didn't answer.
His eyes remained fixed upon him.
Dark purple seemed to exist somewhere deep inside those irises.
Then—
he smiled.
Not warmly.
Not cruelly.
Almost disappointed.
The Traveler felt something tighten inside his chest.
The figure finally spoke.
His voice was cold enough to make the endless darkness feel colder.
"You still don't know."
The Traveler frowned.
"Know what?"
The figure slowly stood.
The throne seemed to become smaller behind him.
He stepped down.
One step.
Then another.
The Traveler remained still.
The figure stopped directly before him.
They were the same height.
The same face.
The same eyes.
Yet the difference between them felt immeasurable.
The Traveler stared into his own face.
The figure tilted his head.
"You walk."
"You wander."
"You forget."
His expression hardened.
"And you call yourself human."
The Traveler's eyes narrowed.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I know."
The answer came instantly.
That was what made it worse.
The figure reached forward.
His hand seized the Traveler's face.
The Traveler's eyes widened.
He tried to move.
Too late.
The figure lifted him effortlessly.
Then—
BOOM.
His body was slammed against the black floor.
The impact echoed through the endless Abyss.
The Traveler's vision blurred.
He tried to rise.
A hand pressed against his face again.
Keeping him down.
The figure looked at him.
Cold.
Disappointed.
Angry.
"You forgot."
The Traveler struggled.
"Let me go."
The figure's grip tightened.
"You forgot everything."
Another pause.
"And yet you still carry my name."
The Traveler froze.
"My... name?"
The figure leaned closer.
His voice became almost a whisper.
"Arafial."
The word echoed through the Abyss.
The Traveler stared.
The name felt wrong.
Yet somehow—
it felt like something buried beneath his own soul had just heard itself being called.
The figure released him.
The Traveler rolled away and pushed himself upright.
He stared at the other version of himself.
The figure stood beside the throne.
Arafial.
The name now existed between them.
The Traveler's voice was quiet.
"...Who am I?"
Arafial looked at him.
For the first time—
anger disappeared from his expression.
Something much colder replaced it.
Recognition.
"You?"
Arafial turned toward the endless darkness.
Then back toward him.
"You are what remained..."
He paused.
"...after I was buried."
The Traveler's breathing stopped for a moment.
Arafial sat back upon the obsidian throne.
His gaze never left him.
"And now you're waking up."
The Abyss trembled.
Not violently.
Almost imperceptibly.
As though something enormous had just opened its eyes.
Arafial's expression darkened.
"Too early."
The Traveler looked around.
"What is this place?"
Arafial answered without hesitation.
"The place you came from."
The Traveler stared at him.
Arafial leaned forward slightly.
"The place you will eventually remember."
Silence.
Then—
the throne behind him seemed to absorb the darkness surrounding it.
Arafial's voice became colder.
"But not yet."
The Traveler stepped forward.
"Why?"
Arafial looked directly into his eyes.
"Because you are still pretending to be someone you were never meant to be."
The world went silent.
Then—
Arafial's eyes briefly glowed deep purple.
The Traveler's vision shattered into darkness.
Far away—
in another world—
the Traveler remained unconscious.
His body lay beneath a blanket inside the siblings' home.
The elder sister sat nearby.
The younger sister remained beside the window.
Neither knew where his mind had gone.
Neither knew what the unconscious stranger was seeing.
Neither knew the name that had just been spoken inside the Abyss.
Outside—
the wind moved through the flowers.
Inside—
the Traveler's fingers twitched once.
Then became still.
And somewhere beyond consciousness—
Arafial remained seated upon the throne.
Waiting.