Chapter nine: Stir
The world was deathly silent.
Beyond the walls of a chamber whose boundaries could not be seen, a black sun hung motionless in the darkness.
Before it stood a throne with two faces.
One side was crimson, turned away from the sun, its surface illuminated by the pale light that reached it. The other was black, facing the star, swallowing what little light dared touch it.
Someone sat upon that darker half.
The man seemed almost an extension of the throne itself. Darkness concealed his features, leaving only two deep-crimson eyes suspended in the gloom.
They shone like bloodstained moons.
For a long while, he did not move.
With an indifferent, almost bored gaze, he stared at the sun. A shadow seemed to pass over his crimson eyes, extinguishing their glow. Only when he rose from his throne did their cold light return.
He was fairly tall, yet his presence seemed to weigh upon the stillness of the room.
The man began walking toward the great window, the only thing separating him from the sun.
He looked out the window, past the sun, scanning the sides of the megastructure his predecessors had built with sharp, cold eyes, analyzing it deeply as if searching for flaws in its architecture.
His eyes returned to the sun, lingering for a moment.
Eventually, he returned to his throne, opened a small journal, and began writing.
Though he was writing, no sound could be heard.
Then a low rumble shook the room, which felt devoid of even the concept of sound.
A deep, firm voice stirred the stillness of the chamber, striking against its restraining silence.
"Subject #1073 hasn't moved or shown any signs of life for several hours now. Bring it to me."
"Yes, my lord."
A dark silhouette emerged from the shadows and knelt before the throne.
The servant's face was impossible to distinguish. Even the gray light of the black sun seemed incapable of reaching him.
It was like looking at darkness itself.
He gave a slight nod before immediately vanishing into nothingness.
A moment later, he returned, carrying something in his arms.
It resembled charcoal but had the scent of rotting flesh.
Upon closer inspection, one could see the mangled form of an infant.
The child was burned and deformed beyond recognition. The smooth, beautiful skin had been replaced with blackened flesh. The bones that had been exposed were cracked and brittle.
The infant's shell seemed like it would turn to dust if the wind blew too hard.
The servant born of shadows offered Sophia's body to the man on the throne, then bowed and retreated.
The man on the throne looked at her body listlessly as he held its fragile vessel.
"Hmm…?"
"…Is something wrong, my lord?"
"No. Nothing is wrong."
His voice was stale as he cast his lingering gaze away from the child's small frame.
"Send it to the Junkyard with the other failures."
The man gently tossed Sophia's casing onto the floor in front of his servant.
"Understood. I shall return soon, my lord."
The servant disappeared, taking Sophia with him.
Today, this world built on blood has been stained a deeper shade of red.
His vacant gaze drifted to his hands, where the child's husk had been. Then, through the dark, his hollow voice muttered something only he could hear.
"Was it truly empty?"
⁂
A mesh of unknown memories flooded my brain.
One after another, they crashed into me, each wave carrying more pain than the last.
Emotions swirled through my consciousness, multiplying and separating into countless colors.
Each continuously overlapped and intertwined until I could no longer distinguish one from another.
Then they collided.
The colors converged, consuming one another until only a single color remained.
Black.
Then a white light fractured the world of undefined darkness.
My thoughts became muddled. I tried to separate them, to grasp even one memory, but every attempt only tangled them further.
And still, it felt like there was order in the chaos.
The light spread.
Faster.
It swallowed everything.
When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a white desert stretching endlessly in every direction.
The pain from being overwhelmed dissipated.
A sense of relief washed over me but was interrupted by a solemn thought.
Alone again, huh.
I looked toward the horizon.
There was nothing there.
"Perhaps it's better that way."
My teeth chattered as I spoke to myself.
My loneliness had become accompanied by a bone-chilling cold that started from the soles of my bare feet.
One could only assume it was because of the sand.
They'd be correct.
It was cold.
Not the refreshing sort of cold, either. The grains seemed to draw warmth out of anything they touched.
Trying to cloak my body with energy was useless.
It wouldn't even pretend to appear.
It felt like the desert rejected the idea of warmth.
Wind swept across the desert, throwing pale dust and ash into my face.
I raised an arm to shield my eyes.
A black cloak settled around my shoulders.
Its weight offered nothing but a false sense of warmth.
I stared at it.
That certainly hadn't been there a moment ago.
"Is the world helping? That's a first."
It was not.
And as if to prove my earlier point, when I attempted to heat my body by walking, I found that nothing had changed. If anything, it made things worse.
The rags that once reached my feet tore and tore as I walked.
What remained of them now barely reached past my knees.
Though I couldn't see myself, I could feel no other change in my appearance.
It was strange; even such rough winds didn't make a dent in my hair.
The sand also grew more unkind with every step.
I felt the cold slowly infect my body with each step, creeping through every cell at a snail's pace.
The first step, my pulse slowed.
The second step, my body grew colder.
The third step, I couldn't remember. I haven't stopped walking since then.
I had a gut feeling something irreversible would happen.
Something bad.
Something worse than the progressive feeling of dying inside.
It's always dark here, so I can't tell how long it's been; it's not exactly night, it's simply dark.
It certainly feels like it's been a few days now.
It's been the same repeating motion.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
By now, I'm sure my heart has stopped beating, as I feel hollow.
I don't even feel the cold.
Well, I don't feel any warmth either.
The only hope I have is that distant hum that's been in the air since I started walking.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
It's definitely been weeks, if not months, since I started walking.
I'm still following the mysterious hum.
I have no idea where I'm going.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Time has become meaningless.
I'm more dead than alive, like a machine that can't stop moving forward no matter what.
Like a walking corpse roaming aimlessly.
Though I'm actually following something.
Or am I?
As the hum rang in this hollow shell of mine, where no pulse hid behind my eyes, the questions in my head kept repeating and filling me with doubt.
I've been walking for years now with no major changes. Even the wind appears periodically.
Everything seemed to have a schedule. It was all extremely suspicious.
Was this another experiment?
I couldn't be sure.
Even the cloak had begun to shorten, its edges gradually wearing away. Yet despite how little remained, I found myself unwilling to part with it.
I used to only use it for protection from the grains of sand blowing in my face, causing it to be riddled with holes.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
I'm still following the hum, and the cloak has given me a greater sense of comfort than expected.
Now it's more like a small friend whose hugs are light but still bring relief during hard times.
My thoughts have grown louder over the years.
My doubts, too.
Eventually, I began arguing with myself.
However, this is my hope.
You choose to believe in a random sound?
I must believe in something.
Why?
Because I could lose what little of me I have left.
Foolish.
My own thoughts would clash to the point where I could swear someone was actually speaking to me.
Some might say the hum is just the wind in my ears.
I refuse to believe that.
It was distant at first, almost too faint to hear. Yet something about it felt familiar.
Like a remnant of a forgotten time, struggling to make itself known.
The sound grew louder.
Soon, it drowned out my thoughts.
I followed the hum mindlessly through this desert that offered no landmarks.
No footprints, as nothing remained behind me for long; the wind erased them almost as soon as I moved.
I couldn't tell if I was going forward or in a circle.
It didn't matter. I had to continue.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Right foot. Left foot.
Darkness clouded life with the grace of the reaper's scythe.
A sharp pain clutched the bottom of my feet.
It's warm.
At first, I thought it was my blood. However, the wind had hurled grains of sand at me before, sometimes drawing blood, and not once did I feel warmth.
A shadow crawled out from the bottom of my calloused feet.
"Thank you for the meal!"
She appeared as a dark flame. She was small and flickering violently, as if she would die at any moment.
Her voice was a cheerful contrast to this gloomy, harsh desert.
Her flames had burned my left foot; they had been the source of heat.
However, that wasn't my concern.
Not the shadow, not the heat.
I was allowed to stop.
After countless years of walking through this unchanging desert.
The flame bore no features that differed from other flames.
Except her color.
"Who are you?"
No fear.
No hesitation.
Just a question to quell a curious mind.
"I'm you—ehh, sort of."
That thing is me?
"I'm the shadow that was resurrected on your third step."
The dark flame proclaimed herself to be similar to me.
Me?
There was an odd feeling from the word "me."
Like a distant feeling I had forgotten was awoken when that word came from the flame.
The flame...
How is she speaking to me?
I focused my mental energy on my eyes, allowing me to see a thin thread of ki connecting to my head.
...I see. She's using her energy to communicate with me.
I learned to focus mental energy in order to see the several paths of wind, to negate them or avoid them entirely.
It used to cause strain, but over time, it's become almost as easy as walking.
Unfortunately, I can't see the paths until after the wind forms.
And though I was originally skeptical, I continued to listen to the flame. After all, what more do I have to lose?
"How rude of me. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm the first of the Ten."
"The Ten?"
I wasn't quite sure what this shadow me was speaking of.
I was simply glad to speak to someone with a separate consciousness from mine.
The heat from the flame is nice.
Giving in to temptation, I sat beside her, basking in her warmth.
The action of sitting after so long was refreshing, to say the least.
Though moving along for long stretches of time isn't exactly alien to me.
Something about this place eats at me more than the first layer of Hell did.
"The Ten are you. You'll meet them... eventually."
"But tha—"
"I'm sure you remember the tenth."
"Her overbearing sense of superiority, along with her unyielding determination. Also known as the Queen of Hell."
And you're Chatty Cathy.
That doll is a plague toward all souls in Hell.
I thought, slightly annoyed at being cut off.
I found the difference between my past selves to be almost humorous.
I, however, did remember the version of me who had practically degraded me while wearing a beautiful black houmongi with a gold pattern.
"I remember her. She said I was far too pure and naive."
I couldn't quite tell, but it seemed the black flame was nodding in understanding.
Her flame body flickered up and down rhythmically.
Flickering in agreement, perhaps?
"Don't take it too hard. She's like that with all of us."
"Especially with how she tries to hog Sen Kuro."
There was a bittersweet tone in my alter ego's voice as she brought up Sen Kuro.
"I met his soul clone before. Who is he?"
"I have no intention of telling you. He'll probably get to you soon enough anyway."
"He always does."
There was a long silence after that, making things slightly uncomfortable and more awkward than one would think possible when having a conversation with oneself.
"So, you said you were born on my third step. What did you mean by that? And have the other shadows of the Ten been resurrected already?"
It was a desperate attempt to change the subject.
"You assume they're all shadows."
"Are they not?"
I was slightly confused.
I assumed they were shadows because they were versions of me from my past.
I stared quietly and patiently waited for an explanation.
"..."
"Alright! I get it already. There's no need to stare like that."
The flame started moving up and down in an excited motion.
"I was just teasing you a little, okay!"
"Your assumption is correct. However, making assumptions like that can be dangerous, so be cautious in the future."
Her teasing has become more annoying.
"As I said before, I was resurrected on your third step."
"By that point, you probably noticed the hole in your vessel—well, probably not."
"Either way, I don't have enough time to answer all your questions. I'm going to disappear very soon. I can only answer one more."
You wasted most of our time with your teasing!
Instead of wasting more time scolding the flame, I asked her the question that mattered to me the most.
"Then could you tell me—is the hum... real?"
There was a pause before she spoke again.
"Do you believe it to be?"
I stared at her silently, trying to see any hidden meaning behind her words.
It felt like she was staring back.
Nothing.
It's kind of hard to read the body language of a flame.
Even if she's a different color.
"Yes."
"Then there's no need to ask."
For the first time, she moved from her spot beside me. She started floating away.
"See you later... little me."
I hurriedly took the cloak off my back and glanced at it once more.
Remembering everything we had gone through.
Then I threw what little piece of the cloak I had left and watched it burn.
While I would miss my friend dearly, it had been with me since the beginning.
Which is exactly why we must depart. It was time to move on.
I couldn't truly move forward while wearing my past.
"Oh! What's this?"
The flame widened slightly, giving her a more lively look.
"Didn't you need that cloak to stay warm?"
She slowed her ascension.
"The warmth you've given me is enough for me, and besides, the cloak offered me nothing but peace of mind."
"I no longer need it."
"But it offers you much more."
"Extended life."
The flame seemed to blush at my words, her flames spiking for a moment.
"Y-you, you knew!?" she yelled in surprise.
"I'm not blind to a dying flame. It's not much, but I figured it was better than nothing."
It felt like an insult that she thought I wouldn't notice such a weak flame.
Plus, I didn't want to leave my cloak on the ground alone or have the wind bring it back to me.
The flame me calmed herself down and began ascending once again.
"Your mind seems to be made up. Are you truly prepared to face it?"
Her voice seemed stronger than before; not that it was weak to begin with, but her voice carried more weight.
Her energy must've grown when consuming the cloak.
Not bothering to check using my energy, I decided to trust
my intuition.
"I am."
"I'm ready to leave this place."
I spoke more to myself than the flame, as if trying to steel my resolve to leave this place.
"I see, then I wish you good luck on your journey!"
"See ya!"
And with that, she rose a little higher before flickering out.