The cinder scent remained in the breeze—unmistakable, though weak.
Otoku woke.
He opened his eyes into a sky that was unfamiliar. No burning horizon. No stone slicked red with blood. Only white clouds drifting like unfocused ideas. Birds sang in alien rhythms, their song foreign—yet not unfriendly.
Soft grass padded beneath him, his back sinking into its cushioning. His fingers folded involuntarily, touching dirt.
He muttered to no one, "I died."
And silence replied in living.
He hauled himself upright, breath slow, wary. His body felt. lighter. Younger. He walked over to a pond nearby, catching sight of himself in its quiet surface. White hair—too white for him. Silver eyes, silent with the weight of a thousand secrets. His face that of a boy. A boy who had died more times than he could count.
No wound on his chest. No sign of the last blow.
Just a low, rhythmic throb inside his ribcage. Not a heartbeat—but something older.
The Codex sat next to him, half-covered in the grass. Bound in dulled metal, its cover puffed with weak pulses of void-touched power.
Of course it did, he grumbled.
Always did.
"Another loop?" he growled. "Or something else?"
The instant was suspended—until a quiet rustle shattered the silence.
He turned.
Someone stood at the edge of the clearing. Quiet. Cloaked. Watching.
Her voice preceded her—soft, weighted. "You're not supposed to be here."
Slowly, Otoku stood. No jerking movements. "Neither are you."
She walked forward, into the filtered glow.
Blindfolded. White hair such as spun ice. She appeared young—but unformed not. There was depth in her standing still.
His breath halted.
"Arthelia."
The name rose unplanned, such as a memory of music far beneath his recalling.
She nodded weakly. "I recall you now… but not out of this world."
There came a sweep of wind through the branches. The sky flashed. Then a sound like a great, heavy bell tolled—far away, and out of tune.
Time faltered.
"Already unraveling," she whispered, half to herself. "You brought it again, didn't you?"
Otoku's fingers clamped hard on the Codex.
"We never have much time," he replied. "But we have enough."
---