(POV – Protagonist)
Inside my room, I wasn’t doing anything special. I was just leaning back, calmly enjoying a spoonful of ice cream while my eyes followed Nekra, Althea, and Nyara. It might sound odd, but seeing the three of them together was, in itself, already a rare sight. Normally, they avoided interacting with each other — and not simply by choice.
From what they told me, spending too much time side by side caused them an almost unbearable discomfort, as if every gesture, every breath clashed with the very essence of what they were. After all, their “Existences” were opposites, forces that naturally repelled each other.
And yet, there was something peculiar: whenever I was present, that tension seemed to vanish, as though my very presence acted as a point of balance among them. It was almost as if the world allowed that contradiction to exist only because I was there to hold it together.
At least, as far as I could remember, my sisters rarely crossed paths or even exchanged words. Their domains were so distant from each other that, to many, it felt as if they didn’t even belong to the same world.
In truth, one could even say each of their territories existed in separate planes — planes that coexisted simultaneously but remained their own isolated, impenetrable realities.
For as long as my memory goes back, I’ve always been some kind of bridge between us sisters. Not that it means they hate each other or live in constant conflict, but the truth is their natures are so different that friction is unavoidable.
Take Althea and Nekra, for instance: two “Existences” with purposes that couldn’t be more opposite. Nekra embodies death itself, silent and relentless, while Althea represents life in all its vibrant intensity. It’s only natural for them to clash.
Althea often complains that Nekra’s chill is so suffocating it makes her skin crawl, like a cutting wind in the dead of winter. In return, Nekra always retorts that Althea’s warmth is so overwhelming it bothers her, like being surrounded by a fire that never burns out.
Honestly, I don’t think I can change much about their tension — at least not for now, while my memories are still fragmented. Even so… every stray thought seems to drag another along, as if something dormant within me is on the verge of awakening.
The feeling of nostalgia grows heavier with each passing moment, thick and almost suffocating, as though old memories were trying to break through the wall of forgetfulness. I want to believe it’s just my imagination, but I can’t shake the sense that something immense — is about to happen.
While my thoughts drifted, a soft and familiar voice broke the silence beside me, pulling me back to reality. The tone was warm, carrying an unmistakable closeness, and just by hearing it I knew, without the slightest doubt, who it belonged to: “What’s wrong, dear sister? Did something happen?”
When I turned toward the voice, I found Althea watching me with that characteristic crooked smile of hers, the kind that always carried a trace of teasing. As usual, she was floating upside down, her loose hair falling like a dark veil toward the floor.
Her wings beat in a slow yet steady rhythm, keeping her suspended in the air with an almost hypnotic grace. There was something ethereal about her presence, as though gravity itself bent just to follow her.
Either way, upon hearing her question, I shook my head lightly. It wasn’t exactly a problem weighing on me, but rather an unsettling doubt that refused to leave.
Sensing my reaction, Althea just tilted her head slightly, like someone trying to decipher a silent riddle. Still, I decided not to dwell on it for the time being; when something truly happened, then I would worry.
***
(POV – Emily Parker)
Amid that illogical situation, everyone exchanged confused glances, unable to comprehend what was happening, while their bodies moved against their own wills. The sensation was disturbing, almost paradoxical: though each movement was clearly forced, there was still a strange impression that it was their own decision to act that way.
It was as if some invisible part of their consciousness was being dragged along, merging with the movement and making it impossible to tell what was external imposition and what was genuine intent.
One member of the anomaly response team was the first to break the silence. His voice, laced with confusion and anxiety, echoed through the room like a desperate whisper that grew into a cry: “Wh-what is this? I... I can’t move my body!”
Everyone inside was experiencing the same unsettling phenomenon: their bodies moved in a stiff, almost mechanical way, like puppets tied to invisible strings. Worse still, it wasn’t a conscious choice — their muscles responded against their very will.
Before they could even grasp what was happening, they were already being led toward the elevator, ascending to the surface. Emily, bewildered, struggled to resist, but every fiber of her body moved on its own, ignoring her effort.
Who was the anomaly responsible for this? And more importantly, why was her body reacting so suddenly and violently? Nothing made sense, and the feeling of helplessness only grew stronger. A chill ran down her spine as beads of sweat trickled down her neck, betraying the fear spreading within her in the face of that impossible strangeness.
Emily’s involuntary actions, combined with everyone else’s, eventually led to the opening of the warehouse gate — the direct entrance to the vast underground facility where anomalies were contained. The metallic sound of gears echoed through the space, carrying a tension impossible to ignore.
Beside Emily stood Laura, Victor, Rupert, and the other members of the response team, each gripped by a mix of anxiety and confusion, as if the mere act of crossing that threshold would seal the course of their fates. None of them truly knew what kind of future awaited them.
As the gate creaked open at a painfully slow pace, a deep groan echoed through the air, making the silence weigh even heavier on everyone present. Cold sweat trickled down their skin, as if their bodies themselves sensed what was about to unfold.
It wasn’t the first time they had faced life-or-death situations—many there had already seen horrors enough to harden the heart. And yet, this time felt different. The atmosphere was heavier, almost suffocating, and the way everything was happening completely defied any expectation.
Emily and Laura, most of all, kept their eyes fixed on the surroundings, as though every shadow might hold an exit, a chance to escape. Still, their bodies refused to respond, weighed down, as if their very will had been drained away.
Even if they did find a way out, what good would it do? The suffocating sense of helplessness stripped every thought of hope bare. In the end, all they could do was wait—trapped in a silent anticipation that seemed to stretch into eternity.
And then, when the door finally opened, a figure emerged. At first glance, its height resembled that of a child, but that was the only remotely ordinary trait about it. The moment everyone’s eyes fell upon the being, the atmosphere seemed to freeze for a brief instant.
Expressions shifted almost immediately, replaced by a mixture of shock and unease. It was impossible to mask the impact of that presence—so alien it seemed to bend the very air around it.
The entity bore long, silver hair that fell in rigid, straight lines, like strands of liquid crystal glimmering under the light, shimmering with ethereal hues at every faint movement.
Its eyes were golden, but not in any ordinary sense; within them, the irises spun in constant geometric rotations, hypnotically precise, like celestial gears in motion. Each turn carried the impression that its gaze wasn’t merely seeing, but unraveling the deepest secrets of the cosmos.
At the center of its forehead pulsed an ethereal symbol, a living mark that glimmered with hypnotic intensity. Its shapes never ceased to shift—perfect circles, sharp triangles, intricate hexagons—all rearranging with flawless, almost supernatural symmetry, as though following a logic no human mind could ever grasp.
Its body was cloaked in a pure white mantle, edged with subtle golden threads that caught the faintest change of light. With every movement, the garment rippled as if made of something beyond fabric, radiating an aura that blended sacred purity with an implacable authority, heavy as fate itself.
Before the entity, none could move. Every gaze remained locked on the being ahead, as though looking away was impossible—an impulse that gripped every fiber of their beings. Yet, at the same time, their minds clawed desperately to make sense of what they faced. No matter the angle, no matter the perspective, the entity was so perfectly ordered, so flawless, that it was unsettling.
At first glance, it might have seemed artificial, yet there was such overwhelming naturalness to it that they began to doubt reality itself. Without realizing, each of them was silently asking: What if the world they lived in was the real fabrication, and not this impossible presence?
Completely disregarding the storm of thoughts surrounding it, the entity, barefoot, began to walk slowly around Emily, Laura, Victor, Rupert, and the anomaly response team, observing them with a cold, meticulous curiosity.
Its steps made no sound at all—an absolute silence so sharp it felt forced, unnatural—while its movements flowed with flawless grace, without a hint of hesitation or error.
The scene carried an uncanny sense of artificiality, as if it were a simulation too perfect to be real; and yet, when it was the entity itself moving, the gestures became paradoxically natural, as though that was the only correct way to exist in the world.
“Hmmmm...” the entity murmured, raising its hand slowly to rest under its chin, as if contemplating something. Its golden eyes swept across the room with a calm that was quietly unsettling, until its voice echoed softly—yet laced with veiled authority: “Are you the ones who govern this place? I didn’t summon anyone in particular, but since you’re the ones who’ve come before me, I assume you hold the highest authority here”
Emily blinked several times, overtaken by growing confusion. The others weren’t much different; every face mirrored the same bafflement, their minds simply unable to process what they were seeing.
Emily couldn’t even form a coherent explanation for what stood before her. Yet one thing no one could deny: the instant their eyes met the anomaly, an overwhelming certainty sank into them all. The entity before them wasn’t just strange—it was powerful, so absolutely powerful that words became useless to describe it.
Emily could barely even fathom the scope of that force, as though she were trying to measure an endless ocean with her bare hands. Victor, Laura, and Rupert shared the same suffocating realization, each trapped by the same haunting thought: they were facing something that utterly transcended their understanding.
Completely detached from their reactions, the entity continued, its voice carrying an eerie casualness: “Well, whatever, I suppose” it muttered, shrugging, as if none of it mattered. Then it tilted its head slightly, and a composed, almost elegant smile curved its lips—contrasting with the crushing weight of its presence: “Either way, I can feel her energy coming from here. Take me to her”
The group exchanged bewildered glances, unable to make sense of the being’s words. What exactly was it trying to convey? What was the meaning behind its fragmented speech? The phrases sounded disjointed, devoid of logic—yet still, there was something irresistibly commanding in them.
Before they realized it, their bodies were already moving on their own, compelled by an invisible call. One by one, they began walking toward the elevator. Under any normal circumstances, it would have been impossible for the entire crowd to fit inside the small metal box—and yet, against all reason, that was exactly what was happening.