The words reverberated through me, and instead of answering, I remained still—staring at the creature resting in my palm. It was utterly absurd that something once so vast, so cosmic in scope, could unravel to such a fragile degree.
The bird merely watched me in silence, its dark pupils impossibly deep, rimmed with a faint, living green. When I tried to look away, my muscles refused to obey, and even the simple act of blinking was beyond me.
Something flickered behind that gaze.
That faint shimmer rippled through my skull, a low vibration rolling outward as the world around me began to shift. From the edges of my sight, delicate veins of green light crept inward. They tightened, spiraling toward the center of my vision, and I didn’t resist, trusting that these beings meant me no harm.
A long breath eased from my chest as the same green thread began to rise from my palm, winding upward in rhythm with my pulse. Everything throbbed in a slow, heartbeat-like cadence until the haze deepened, and my surroundings dissolved into a vast iris of emerald light. It was as though I stood within the bird’s own eye.
There was no tearing, only a quiet transition. A seamless slide from one state to another. And within moments, a familiar void I had visited twice before stretched open before me once again.
A single orb floated a few paces away, hovering above the pure black expanse. A subtle pull emanated from it, tugging at something instinctual inside me, beckoning me closer. Within its surface, light churned violently. Green lines twisted and threaded into one another, driven by some internal force that refused to rest.
The motion shifted, compressing inward until the sphere spun like a storm, a miniature tornado forming in its heart before bursting outward. The resulting shockwave was deep and resonant, rattling the container itself. Clouds coalesced from the energy, swirling before collapsing back into those same luminous strands that had birthed them.
“Well…” I muttered, already knowing what awaited.
My first step came easily, and with it, the visions began.
A body of pure Air Force took shape before me, the avatar unmistakably feminine. From her came a low, aching sigh, the kind that carried weight.
“With all that I’ve created, I still can’t do anything,” she murmured, voice fragile. “If I only had more time, they could learn too.” Her gaze drifted upward to the ceiling of a dark chamber. “Why did you have to leave? Without your guidance, I’m—”
Another step forward carried me deeper into the vision.
A door opened behind her, interrupting her lament. A second, similar in form, figure entered, his body composed of gently orbiting nodes of brown light.
“It’s time,” he said, voice worn and heavy. “The others are gathering to begin the ritual.”
She rose slowly from where she had been sitting. “Then our era is truly over? He couldn’t mend the stagnation of the second layer?”
The sight blurred, dissolving like smoke as I took another step forward.
What emerged next was a scene I already knew. Figures in a circle, their energies drawing upon violet and gold radiance from beyond themselves. The powers intertwined and condensed until, one by one, each figure vanished, their energy drifting toward a single remaining presence.
Only the avatar of fire remained in the end. He, too, faded after his final words, leaving nothing behind but the lingering beasts.
When the vision dimmed, I paused, confusion threading through my thoughts.
Second layer? What does that mean?
“Why do the visions feel so different this time?” I murmured to myself, shaking my head as if to clear the haze. “Last step.”
Drawing a deep breath, I stepped forward once more into the fragment of that era before creation.
The chamber that unfolded was barren, empty but for a few barely-formed beasts. Three stood clearer than the fourth, whose presence seemed obscured—blurred from existence itself, as though something prevented my recognition. When I tried to focus, the world recoiled, and pressure gathered behind my eyes, sending faint waves of nausea through me.
The lion stirred first, its outline sharpening as it drew breath, taking on a form both regal and fierce.
I waited, watching, but nothing followed. The three shapes continued to condense, their forms coalescing slowly, yet my patience thinned into confusion.
Why is this taking so long? What’s—
A deep sigh resounded through the void, startling me from my thoughts. “If only I could’ve preserved all of you as well, but my abilities were too lacking.”
The voice belonged unmistakably to the woman of Air Force, echoing through the pitch-black chamber.
I searched the darkness for her figure but saw only emptiness until the bird twitched. Its form solidified completely, feathers gleaming with that same living green I’d seen before. It stepped toward the lion, brushing its wing gently on the creature’s forming blazing mane.
“You need to go first. Come on… wake up,” she coaxed, and in that instant, I understood. The Air avatar had become the beast. Somehow, she had bound her existence into this new vessel, keeping herself alive through it. Yet her tone made it clear that the others had failed to do the same.
She stood there for a moment, her gaze soft and heavy with emotion, watching the motionless lion.
And waited.
And continued waiting.
Until—
“Ugh!” she groaned, feathers bristling with irritation. “You’re just like him! Move!”
Without a hint of grace, her talons extended, and she lifted her leg and delivered a sharp kick to the slumbering beast.
The lion jolted awake with a high-pitched yowl, shockingly catlike for a creature that would eventually radiate energy on the scale of a singularity. Its flaming fur flared upward, scattering sparks that burst in tiny ripples of heat.
“Nope! Drop the attitude. I’m the oldest, so you have to listen!” she scolded, puffing herself up with a strange pride, as though her earlier sorrow had never existed.
The lion merely turned its head, unimpressed, and after a yawn—laid back down, closing its eyes once more.
The bird blinked, emerald eyes wide in disbelief.
“Unbelievable…” she muttered under her breath, then spun abruptly toward the serpent. She hurried over, nudging its coiled form gently.
The serpent’s eyes opened calm and clear. The two regarded each other in silence for a heartbeat before the creature exhaled deeply and began to settle again. But before its eyes closed completely, its long tail unfurled, curling tenderly around the bird, drawing her close in a quiet, protective gesture.
She turned her head then, gazing toward the third indistinct figure. Her voice came again, but this time muffled, words lost.
Then a soft laugh broke through, relieved. “Of course… it’s not so easy to erase your wills. Even if you’re gone, something of you always remains. And I’ll—”
The image fractured, fading away. I found myself once again before the orb, breath unsteady, struggling to process what I’d just witnessed. Yet the pull of the sphere drew me forward before thought could catch up.
I reached out and grasped it.
The final vision bloomed.
The bird—no, the woman within—soared through the cosmos, her eyes steady yet weary as she murmured to herself, voice subdued now, tinged with exhaustion.
“How long has it been? How long must I continue this? The third layer should have been complete ages ago, but…”
Her words drifted into silence as her gaze caught upon something. A young man suspended in the void. Black hair, brown eyes, and a face that could only be described as divine. Beautiful beyond reason.
In every vision before, I had watched from above as an observer, but never as a participant. But this time, the distance shattered. My consciousness was seized, yanked from where it floated as the avatar flew toward the radiant figure, her cry echoing across the stars.
“MASTER!”
And I was no longer watching. I was him… Or me. That regal figure was my own body, hovering in the void, just before she had landed on my palm. But now past turned into present. I looked down at the small bird resting in my palm, brows furrowed, voice uncertain. “I… I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I’m not your master.”
Just as before, our gazes locked and for a suspended moment, neither of us moved. Then, at last, she broke the connection, lowering her head and giving a faint shake, feathers trembling. I understood that quiet ache of loss where family once was. But hers carried a weight far beyond my own comprehension.
A tremor ran through her wings, and light began to seep from her feathers in delicate streams of radiance.
“Even if you’re not,” she whispered, voice gentle and tired, “it’s a nice familiarity.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but the space between us twisted when her beak jerked upward in a sharp motion. A thin hiss tore through the void, like fabric ripping.
I felt her leap from my palm. Then came the suction, dragging everything toward its center.
“Wait—what are you—” I tried to call out, but my words broke apart, swallowed by the pull.
Her reply drifted faintly through the distortion, growing softer with every heartbeat. “You must be the Fourth. It was nice to see you before… I only wish the others had a chance to see.”
The force grew stronger, stealing the sound from my throat. Yet her final words still reached me. “You have only a little time, so ask the Third his plan.”
Then came silence.
The light consumed everything, until all that remained was a vast chasm of white. I stood within it, weightless once more, surrounded by nothing but another familiar stretch of emptiness.
And then, a voice in half shock—half exasperation, echoed out to meet me.
“You died again?!”
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