The sun swept past Richter City’s golden terraces for one last time. The harvest will never come―heralded by a struck down sun, and the seven-hued star bursting from its stomach. Meager light could never banish this world’s night. Sneering at the survivors was a ghostly being―it wielded no body; torn black rags or a terrible cloak made up its silhouette, and a jawless skull was its face.

  The Seven-Faced star could only shine one light at the time, and with red―

  “?????”

  ―the being spoke in hushed voices. It must have lacked any sort of identity. It brandished the very end of its sharp nerves jutting out from the tail of its spine, jamming it at the corpse’s throat n?e?x?t? ?t?o? ?h?e?r?.

  “This is all your fault.” It took h???i???s??? voice. “With the everlasting night, no deity will answer your pleas for help.”

  Rot and decay scratched at her throat as the skull-faced t?h?i?n?g? draws closer.

  “The next one will be worse than an earthquake. Pray little Rabbit, pray that this will never happen again. Pray that you won’t hear my whispers one last time.”

  She dropped to the ground, her body shutting down―as if any longer and she’d truly go insane, and there would be no chance left for revenge.

  The next time she’d open her eyes would be the aftermath, and the dead beside her.

  △▼△

  Nothing is waiting for her tomorrow, no home, no family, and being a half-breed Blythe means she never had friends to begin with. Indeed, there’d be nothing wrong with sleeping in this rubble―never to wake up again.

  From the way dad spoke, even if she had plans, they’d mean nothing in a changing of the eras. What even is the point of trudging on? Who does she celebrate with, who does she want to make smile with her accomplishments? There was never anything good left of this world, and now there’s even less.

  Father stayed behind to protect them, but her sister―Vesaila, died shortly after.

  h?o?w? ?m?a?n?y? ?m?o?r?e? ?t?i?m?e?s? ?w?i?l?l? ?I? ?g?e?t? ?h?e?r? ?k?i?l?l?e?d???

  How many more failures does Raseyla ?????? have to endure? Who will be there to share the burden… What's the point of asking these questions?

  None, no one will be there to listen―because everyone else is struggling with their own losses. There’s no point in searching for someone to cry to- there’s . . . if all this world has to offer them is suffering― b?u?r?n? b?u?r?n? ―if this unjust world has finally decided that it doesn’t need any of the people living in it, then w?e? shall raise the first bla―

  “―Raseyla…”

  . . . she spoke in such self-sacrificing kindness, Raseyla had at last opened her eyes, could it really be?

  “Sister…”

  “Yes, I’m right here. I’m with you this time.”

  She couldn’t see her face, nor the colors of her beautiful hair, there was only the vast sunset from earlier in the day, their favorite tree that came with a view of the city. There were hues of orange madder for the twilight sky, its wondrous light casting off the verdant grass―Raseyla could even smell the fragrance of the passing rain, clearing her lungs; she could feel safe with her head atop of sister’s lap.

  But Vesaila―she’s like a cut-out character from a picture-book you’re meant to color-in―blank, colorless, and not from here.

  Raseyla thought it was just her eyes playing with her.

  “Was it… all a dream? It has to be . . . it must be one of those visions the heroes get, some crappy story where I wake up in my bed and try to prevent it all.”

  That kind voice softly laughs, “You always have such an active imagination, little sis.”

  It was a strange way to answer her question, much like avoiding a topic… Raseyla felt her face twist, this was merely a dream.

  “I don’t want to wake up…”

  “Don’t worry, little sis. This time I’ll always be with you, no matter what happens, no matter how bad it might hurt me . . .”

  She brought her lips closer, moments away from kissing her forehead.

  “We’ll get through this tog?e?t?h?e?r?――――――――――――――”

  ―――――――――――――――――something skeletal touches her forehead.

  Raseyla opened her eyes for real―their ruined house, the unusually red night sky―and then there’s the two ghostly flames in-between t?h?a?t? ?t?h?i?n?g?'?s? skull-like face!

  It looked down on her, pulling its nerve-like tendrils away from her head.

  “Ghh!―”

  Was it feeding her good dreams so it could feed on her while she’s in misery?! Whatever the reason, she has to get out of here! Raseyla rolls away―only to feel her stomach wretch and cause her to puke against the ground.

  This was it, she’s done for―show your back to the enemy and it will kill her.

  Yet minutes and minutes passed . . . eventually she picked herself up and stepped back until her back hit the floor―there it was, that ghostly thing that said all this disaster was her fault.

  It sat where it was, if you can even call it that, and just looked at her.

  “Why… why didn’t you kill me?”

  That thing smelled of death, it smelled like sister and it smelled like father after being processed, ground, and mixed with all that gastric sickness. She stepped further away, pinching on her own nose.

  “No… maybe you couldn’t, a dream eater?”

  Dream eaters don’t have a predetermined appearance, only a quality and behavior unique to them, so despite how horrifying that thing looked, it’s harmless as long as she stays awake.

  Raseyla wanted to curse her luck, be angry and throw stones at it―but it’s pointless, throwing stones at g?h?o?s?t?s will do nothing.

  “. . . Doesn’t matter if all this is my fault, I’ll make it right by killing you.”

  The closest thing it had for a face would be its jawless skull, despite the lack of flesh or muscles, even the teeth to clank against the rest of the rotting set―it was smiling, cackling even―limited only by its poor choice for a body.

  “Laugh all you want, I won’t wait until the next time your jaw utters a whisper. You will die before the next one breaks this world. Follow me all you want, I’ll make you regret every single moment at the very end.”

  Having resolved herself, she leaves―the wraith-like figure slowly follows ten paces behind. Raseyla hated her Blythe heritage, that wheat-blonde hair, the only thing she liked about her self-image is the faded green of her eyes―much resembling her dad’s―everything else was supposedly of her mom’s.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  A mom Raseyla’s never seen . . . she didn’t answer dad’s letters all the way until the end, but she’s still a Blythe―heroic much like their forefathers―she has to answer this time.

  It was a new place, and a new world, with so few signs of the one she saw from yesterday. Atner’s March, the once pride of our city―is a bridge usable only by royalty or high-nobility, connecting the central castle to the southern walls where further south leads to the nation’s capital―

  ―Now leads to nowhere, its last destination being the murky waters filled with much of the bridge’s debris. Up until this point, the nation of Reigns didn’t have to worry about earthquakes.

  “. . .”

  She loved this place, loved watching the adorned carriages and flags come and go.

  Now she only sees vestiges of them, she sees them everywhere. Every picnic they’d have at this spot―every cracked brick in the road she’d skip over.

  Papa… Sis…

  Everywhere she looks, everywhere she’s been . . . Raseyla only snapped out when she felt a small pebble click at the back of her shoes―and she turned―the wraith-like figure holding two of its slimy nerves towards her―

  “Back off!”

  ―Raseyla pushes it away, and it stumbles to the ground . . . huh?

  “. . . Did you just–”

  There it was on the ground, but looking back at her, there wasn’t the faintest mark of shame in its face―only that same evil grin. Yeah, what’s the point? So what if she can touch it? What will she do―grab a big rock and cave its head in?

  Not that it even needs a head to begin with . . . but this was a start, when she finds the means to kill it―at the very least she’s sure a weapon can make contact.

  “Excuse me―” Raseyla sat on the curb, “―do you have some spare food?”

  “Some spare food– okay…”

  “Uhm, hello… I’m hungry–”

  “. . .”

  Yeah, of course they’d ignore her. It’s not like she’s the only one who lost someone, it just so happened she’s the one who didn’t have food… some of them even shouted at her, saying that she should be the one giving them food . . . yeah, she’s a Blythe alright―the same blonde as the once hero… well she’s never been a hero.

  Raseyla reached for her cheek―

  “―Tsst” Clicking her tongue, as if it will lessen the sting.

  All while glancing to the alley beside her at the corner of her eye―there it was again, that wraith-like figure―peeking its head from the alley. Keeping an eye on her. That thing would just scare everyone who sees it―

  ―Better if it stays hidden so she could ask for food, not like it made a difference anyway. The city’s Blythe Knights failed them, thus they are hated.

  “. . .” Her palms rubbed along the swelling bruise on her cheek, “Mmm… nothing’s really waiting for me.”

  It was a conclusion she already knew, this was just how people are, if someone failed then the blame will either go to that person―or someone who looks just like them. Even if she’s a half-blythe at most. But it’s somebody else’s problem, somebody else failed so . . . she really can’t handle someone else’s fault right now…

  “. . .”

  Say I get rid of this thing after all, let’s say I meet the mom who’s rejected me all this time, what then? Raseyla thought as she looked over the ruined buildings, watching as a pillar of smoke rose to the skies above. In the end… I’ll still have no one left.

  △▼△

  i???t??? followed Raseyla, changing and distorting according to the girl’s perception. She towards the pillar of smoke, faster than any child should have been, but she can keep up. I???t??? will never fall behind, for i???t??? is simply it’s nature.

  The girl came upon a burning building, tried to grab the door but burned her hand.

  “Shit… come on, come on!”

  The girl only had her blood’s heroic legacy to cling on, and she does, burning her hand even if it means opening the door.

  “Ghh…”

  She’ll die quicker if she goes there, it’s what she wants.

  “. . .”

  I???t??? reaches towards the door and opens it for her, and i???t??? ignores the sudden smell of something charred.

  “...I’m pathetic,” Raseyla’s head pulls down. “In the end, the only one I helped was a monster.”

  “. . .”

  “Oh Moon-Sentry… please forgive me, I’ll never cause a night like this again.”

  The little girl walked forward, and i???t??? followed closely behind her.

  △▼△

  Raseyla rushes in, feeling the heat attempting to claw away at her skin.

  “Hello!” She called, “Anyone there?!”

  “--Ghh…” A tired voice from upstairs.

  It was a small enough house so she clearly heard. She charged through the billowing flames, patting away at the slight embers caught at the edges of her clothes and kicked open an already burning door.

  “Help…”

  Before her was the figure of a True Blythe, bearing their Blonde distinctive features, and their increased strength allowing him to lift up the small part of the collapsed roof. She couldn’t imagine doing that, it was much harder than just turning the knob of a hot door, this needed strength and an extreme enough willpower to ignore the pain.

  “Hurry, my wife she’s…”

  “Oh!―”

  How long has he been holding it up for… not wanting to delay any further, Raseyla rushed ahead―there was rubble underneath, she can vaguely see the figure of a blue-haired woman. She walked closer–

  “Hurry,” The man was about to say, but then his knees gave out―

  “―Ghh… shit . . .” Raseyla’s forced to hold up the roof as well. She might be young, but she’s still half-blythe, her strength isn’t entirely for nothing. But now she’s seeing his dilemma.

  Neither of them can go down to get his wife out of there, or else the roof will collapse on them both. At this rate it’ll be all for nothing, in the end she still dies for nothing other than becoming a quicker meal for that beast. She’s out of options, there’s nothing left for her to do. At the very least she’ll die–

  “I’m- sorry… child.” The man’s eyes slowly began to close, “Back away, leave me with my wife.”

  . . . . . . . . . Raseyla hasn’t considered that option―

  She doesn’t need to, in no situation would she ever let that person die. In no way can she keep on living with another pair of the dead on her shoulders. Pragmatically speaking, that man will live longer because he has a reason to keep on living.

  Raseyla, however, does not.

  “Ghh― Whisper–!” Raseyla shouts, “My life is yours, as long as you save his wife from the rubble, then you can do whatever you want with it!”

  “. . .”

  The wraith-like creature doesn’t make a move.

  “Y- You…” The man mustered all his strength just to look back and turn, “You don’t have to… take ???? ?????? away from here.”

  “Don’t listen to him, do this and you can kill me however you want!”

  At last it draws closer, pulling under the roof, and dragged the man’s wife from under the rubble―with relative ease too.

  When she’s out, the two Blythes let go and the roof drops, fortunately the floor holds up . . . and before anything else, the man picks up his wife and immediately rushes her outside the room, not looking back.

  Raseyla’s truly done it now, consorting with evil spirits, selling away her soul for who knows whatever it will use upon it. There was a law she was taught, as Blythes they are creatures with strong connections to the world, and they of all people should never fall into contracts with evil ghosts.

  Lest they possess their bodies and manifest ghostly abilities in a truly human form, they’d be unstoppable.

  Looking back . . . what a bloody mistake, maybe this is what causes the ‘next one’ that this . . . whispering ghost, mentioned. In the end she’ll make things worse, all because she selfishly wanted to save someone and be able to say that she at least did something good.

  She turned to the raging flame.

  Raseyla might as well be the worst thing to ever happen in this glorious lineage.

  How it dances and sways.

  A Blythe founded this nation, who knew that a Blythe would then end the world.

  It’s inviting her, drawing her closer.

  But she can stop it, she can prevent things from getting worse. She can stop the ‘next one’ from happening.

  The i?n?c?i?n?e?r?a?t?i?o?n? seduces her: she can still be a hero.

  △▼△

  “―She cannot die like this!”

  “???????”

  “I’ll pin her down, one of you knock her out col――――――――”

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