Emily Prime sat beneath an inverted cherry blossom, its withered petals falling upward into a fractured sky, where weeping statues of forgotten poets gaze down with starlit tears. Swords, headbands, and memorabilia are scattered around the white petals that collect underneath the dead tree. Floating rocks, moons, and Victorian-era buildings float like physics does not apply underneath the silhouette of the Engine's gaze. Its Mulberry Eye casts vibrant shadows that danced like Ether lights across the island, flickering in and out of reality, as if the city's memories refused to fade.
Emily Prime's masquerade mask was half broken, clinging to her face. Her mulberry eyes glowed as she scribbled in her notebook. The area around her glitched and hummed with volatile energy. The tattoo on her right hand burned, and her eyes were wet. Her fingers trembled as she struggled to hold her ink pen. She briefly glanced up at the Engine with furrowed eyebrows before returning to her notebook.
"₮Ⱨł₴ ł₴ ₦Ø₮ ₣łӾł₦₲ ₮Ⱨł₦₲₴, Ɇ₥łⱠɎ." The Engine hummed as its mulberry eye glowed.
"I don't care what you think," Emily Prime muttered, refusing to look up at the Engine.
"ⱧØ₩ ₥₳₦Ɏ ₥ØⱤɆ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ₦ɆɆĐ ₮Ø ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ-"
"I don't give a shit!" She screamed as she glared up at the Engine. "They ain't real anyway...just like me."
The Engine's eye glowed slowly, muted as if saddened by Emily's comment. "ɎØɄⱤ ₲ⱤłɆ₣ ₩łⱠⱠ ĐØØ₥ ɆVɆⱤɎØ₦Ɇ."
Emily Prime blinked slowly, staring absent-mindedly at the fractured sky above her. "Is that so?" She asked as she closed her notebook. "Then kill me! Do what I did to Dezerea."
"ĐɆ₴₮ł₦Ɏ ₵₳₦ ₦Ø₮ ฿Ɇ ØVɆⱤ₩Ɽł₮₮Ɇ₦. ₩Ɇ₳Ɽ ₮ⱧɆ ₴₮₳₮ł₵ ₵ⱤØ₩₦."
"Fuck destiny, fuck your Static Crown and fuck you!" Emily shouted as she stood up. "All those people dead, friends, family, and for what, for me to become GOD just to control them like puppets?" Emily replied with wet eyes. "She didn't even give me a choice. I would do anything to die in her place but you wont bring her the fuck back!"
"ł₮ ₩ØɄⱠĐ ₦Ø₮ ฿Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ Ɽ₳₵ⱧɆⱠ ɎØɄ ⱠØVɆĐ, ɎØɄ ₭₦Ø₩ ₮Ⱨł₴, Ɇ₥łⱠɎ. ₴ⱧɆ ₲₳VɆ ⱧɆⱤ Ⱡł₣Ɇ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ₴ⱧɆ ฿ɆⱠłɆVɆĐ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ₩ØɄⱠĐ ฿Ɇ ฿Ɇ₴₮ ₣ØⱤ ₮ⱧɆ JØ฿."
Emily shook her head as she rubbed her hands through her hair. "Look at me! I am a broken mess! " she yelled, and tears dripped down her cheeks. "You could have stopped it, but you didn't."
"ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ Ʉ₦ĐɆⱤ₴₮₳₦Đ ɆVɆ₦₮Ʉ₳ⱠⱠɎ."
"Yeah, when you get your new pet project to come, kill me."
"ł₴ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ₮Ⱨł₦₭? ɎØɄ ₴ɄⱤVłVɆĐ ₮ⱧɆ ₱łⱠ₲Ɽł₥₳₲Ɇ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ɎØɄ Ʉ₦ĐɆⱤ₴₮₳₦Đ ₥ØⱤɆ ₮Ⱨ₳₦ ₳₦ɎØ₦Ɇ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ₮ⱤɄⱠɎ ₥₳₮₮ɆⱤ₴. Ɽ₳₵ⱧɆⱠ ₴₳₩ ł₮, ₳₦Đ ɎØɄ ₳ⱤɆ Đł₴ⱧØ₦ØⱤł₦₲ ⱧɆⱤ ₴₳₵Ɽł₣ł₵Ɇ."
Emily Prime glanced down. "Save your fucking philosophical bullshit! I don't fucking care," she growled as she walked away, tearing a portal in the fabric of reality.
Her footsteps echoed against cobblestone streets as she stepped through the portal. Grand marble and limestone statues chipped and broken, aligned the ghost town that was once her home. She frowned as she stared at the faded paintings, wilted flowers, and empty merchant stands. Her imagination raced as echoes of loved ones and rivals filled the empty streets. She closed her eyes briefly as she breathed deeply, imagining conversations she had during Succession Day.
Emily Prime's hands rubbed against a stringless, broken cello. Blue Ether sparks radiated at her command, the strings materializing with a mournful hum. She sat in a rusty chair, her mulberry eyes wet, as she summoned more instruments from the Ether—a shimmering harp of starlight. Its strings glowed like the dancing lights above, and a violin of fractured glass, its notes echoed the weeping statues' tears. Faint chimes tolled in the air, resonating with the Engine's hum, as she began to play, her trembling fingers pouring her grief into the melody.
I wake up where the shadows hum,
A broken train on bruise-colored drums.
Threads unravel from my fingertips,
They whisper secrets I can't commit.
My reflection splits, a hollow grin,
Eyes like static, skin so thin.
Every mirror shows what I've erased,
But ghosts don't vanish—they just retrace.
Oh, the sirens sing in frequencies low,
Painting tomorrow in static snow.
If you listen close, they'll tell you this:
Sewn from a dead star dress,
Stitched with threads we can't undress.
Humming faces fade away,
In a sky that never sees day.
Sewn from a dead star dress,
Where do we go when we regress?
The needles pierce but leave no scar,
Binding me to who I are.
A paradox wrapped in paradox,
Breathing smoke, tracing clocks.
You called me ghost, called me thread,
Now I'm tangled in the words you said.
Your voice cracks like a dying machine,
Echoing truths I've yet to glean.
Oh, the sirens sing in frequencies low,
Painting tomorrow in static snow.
Sewn from a dead star dress,
Stitched with threads we can't undress.
Sewn from a dead star dress
Emily Prime closed her eyes as she stopped playing. She looked up, half expecting a crowd of citizens to applaud, but she saw nothing but echoes of her imagination. Everyone was dead, faded into nothingness in her fractured world. The glow of the Ether streetlights was the only sign of life to bear witness to her music.
She put the Cello down and stared blankly at a statue of herself. Her face was chipped and broken, just like her mask, which she couldn't remove. Her face formed a permanent frown as she looked at the wilted flowers hanging around her statue's neck.
Her mind raced to the day she first heard the Engine's hum. She remembered calling her fellow citizens fools for celebrating Successor Day. Every one hundred years, the Engine hums, etching its brand and mask upon people it deems worthy of the pilgrimage. It was a death sentence, a pilgrimage of violence, grief, and betrayal just for power. She closed her eyes, recalling what the Engine said to her upon the summit of Godhood.
Threads of fate, woven tight,
A crown of static, endless night.
You've danced in loops,
you've fought the hum,
But the cycle calls—you can't outrun.
Wear the static crown, let it hum,
In this fractured throne, you'll become
The weaver of worlds, the breaker of seams,
Or the ghost in the code, lost in dreams.
"I don't deserve it, I should have died right there on the beach," she muttered to herself as she continued to stare at her statue. "But Rachel saved me, again and again. She saved me many times, yet here I am....alive and alone."
Emily Prime stood up and hung her head. "Being a God is not what it's cracked up to be."
"₳₦Đ ₮Ⱨ₳₮'₴ ₩ⱧɎ ɎØɄ'ⱤɆ ฿Ɇ₴₮ ₴Ʉł₮ɆĐ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ₵Ø₥Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ Ɇ₦₲ł₦Ɇ."
"Shut the fuck up. Nobody asked you."
"₩Ⱨ₳₮ ₩ØɄⱠĐ Ɽ₳₵ⱧɆⱠ ₮Ⱨł₦₭ ł₣ ₴ⱧɆ ₴₳₩ ɎØɄ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩?"
Emily paused as she breathed deeply. "It doesn't matter she is dead."
"₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₥₳Ɏ ฿Ɇ ₮ⱤɄɆ, ฿Ʉ₮ ₮Ⱨł₴ Ø₮ⱧɆⱤ Ɽ₳₵ⱧɆⱠ ł₴ ₴Ʉ₣₣ɆⱤł₦₲ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ Ø₣ ɎØɄ. ɎØɄ Ⱨ₳VɆ ₥₳₦ł₱ɄⱠ₳₮ɆĐ ⱧɆⱤ, ₭Ɇ₱₮ ⱧɆⱤ ł₦ ₳ ₵₳₲Ɇ Ø₣ ₣Ɇ₳Ɽ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ɎØɄ ₣Ɇ₳Ɽ ฿Ɇ₵Ø₥ł₦₲ ₩Ⱨ₳₮ ɎØɄ ₳ⱤɆ ĐɆ₴₮ł₦ɆĐ ₮Ø ฿Ɇ."
"Shut up! Shut the fuck up!" Emily screamed as she tried to rip her mask off. "Nobody deserves to go through what I did!"
"₳₦Đ ĐØ ₳ⱠⱠ ₮ⱧØ₴Ɇ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ł₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ Ʉ₦łVɆⱤ₴Ɇ ĐɆ₴ɆⱤVɆ ₮Ø ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ Ø₣ ɎØɄⱤ ₳₵₮łØ₦₴?"
"Just rewrite the fucking script! You can do that but you fucking wont because you don't want to get involved...giving them the illusion of free will when you can just simply stop it!?"
"ⱧɄ₥₳₦₴ ₥Ʉ₴₮ ₥₳₭Ɇ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Ø₩₦ ₵ⱧØł₵Ɇ₴, ⱠɆ₳Ɽ₦ ₳₦Đ ₲ⱤØ₩ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ ₥ł₴₮₳₭Ɇ₴. ₮ⱧɆɎ ₩łⱠⱠ ₦ɆVɆⱤ ⱠɆ₳Ɽ₦ ₮ⱧⱤØɄ₲Ⱨ ĐłVł₦Ɇ ł₦₮ɆⱤVɆ₦₮łØ₦."
Emily Prime balled her fist. "You could make a utopia where everyone is happy, yet you just watch and observe. You let us die, suffer, and let injustice spread because you want us to learn from our own choices?"
"₳ Ʉ₮Ø₱ł₳ Ø₣ ₥Ɏ ₵ⱤɆ₳₮łØ₦ ₩ØɄⱠĐ ₦Ø₮ ฿Ɇ ₳ Ʉ₮Ø₱ł₳ ฿Ʉ₮ ₳ ₵₳₲Ɇ ₣ɄⱠⱠ Ø₣ ₮ØɎ₴. ₳ Ʉ₮Ø₱ł₳ ₮ⱧɆɎ ฿ɄłⱠ₮ ₮ⱧⱤØɄ₲Ⱨ ₥Ʉ₮Ʉ₳Ⱡ Ʉ₦ĐɆⱤ₴₮₳₦Đł₦₲ Ø₣ ₮ⱧɆłⱤ Đł₣₣ɆⱤɆ₦₵Ɇ₴, ₵ɄⱠ₮ɄⱤɆ₴, ₳₦Đ ฿ɆⱠłɆ₣₴ ₩ØɄⱠĐ ฿Ɇ ₳₦ Ɇ₳Ɽ₦ɆĐ ₳₦Đ ₮ⱤɄɆ Ʉ₮Ø₱ł₳."
"You let false idols run rampant, how many people died underneath a false idol of GOD?"
"₳₦Đ ɎØɄ ⱠɆ₮ ₳ⱠⱠ ₮ⱧɆ₴Ɇ ₱ɆØ₱ⱠɆ ĐłɆ ฿Ɇ₵₳Ʉ₴Ɇ ɎØɄ ⱤɆJɆ₵₮ɆĐ ɎØɄⱤ ⱤØⱠɆ. ₲ØĐⱧØØĐ ĐɆ₥₳₦Đ₴ ₴₳₵Ɽł₣ł₵Ɇ ₳₦Đ ₳₦ Ʉ₦ĐɆⱤ₴₮₳₦Đł₦₲ Ø₣ Ø₦Ɇ'₴ ⱤɆ₴₱Ø₦₴ł฿łⱠł₮łɆ₴. ɎØɄ ĐØ₦'₮ ₲Ɇ₮ ₮Ø ₱ł₵₭ ₩ⱧØ ⱠłVɆ₴ ØⱤ ĐłɆ₴, ɎØɄ ₵ⱤɆ₳₮Ɇ ₮ⱧɆ ₣ØɄ₦Đ₳₮łØ₦ ₮Ⱨ₳₮ ₮ⱧɆɎ ₵₳₦ ⱠɆ₳Ɽ₦, ₲ⱤØ₩, ₳₦Đ ĐɆVɆⱠØ₱ ฿Ø₦Đ₴."
Emily's nostrils flared, and her eyes narrowed as she stared at her statue. "Maybe you're right, but what good is it when I write the script?" She asked as she glanced towards the empty streets.
"They all mocked me, every last one, when you burned this tattoo and mask on my face. "They all said I would be the first to die. I am a musician not a fucking fighter and yet here I am and they are all dead," She muttered with wet eyes. "Because of me."
"₳₦Đ ɎɆ₮ ɎØɄ'ⱤɆ ₴₮łⱠⱠ ฿Ⱡł₦Đ ₮Ø ₩ⱧɎ ɎØɄ ₴ɄⱤVłVɆĐ ₮ⱧɆ ₱łⱠ₲Ɽł₥₳₲Ɇ."
Emily's eyes teared up as she scowled at her statue.
"₮ⱧɆɎ ₥Ø₵₭ɆĐ ɎØɄ, ɎɆ₮ ₮Ⱨł₴ ₴₮₳₮ɄɆ ₩₳₴ ₳₦ ₳₵₮ Ø₣ ⱤɆVɆⱤɆ₦₵Ɇ ₳₦Đ ⱠØVɆ, ₳₦Đ ɎØɄ ₭łⱠⱠɆĐ ₮ⱧɆ₥."
Emily's eyes widened as her heart dropped. The Engine's words pierced through her mind like hot coal. Her mind raced back to a memory she buried deep within her soul.
"I-" she muttered.
She shook her head, refusing to confront the demons stirring in her subconscious. She wiped the tears from her face as she returned to the Cello. She rubbed her hands across the instrument as she manifested an orchestra behind her. Her emotions hummed and swirled as she stared at her statue once more. Her fingers trembled as she closed her eyes. She sat there in silence for what seemed like hours before she forced a thin lip smile across her face as she sat down again and began playing.
On Succession Day, the streets did glow,
Ether lights in a masquerade's flow.
Petals fell to a sky so wide,
Before the Eye cast its mulberry tide.
A tattoo burned, a mask was sown,
A pilgrimage I'd face alone.
I'll tear your threads, let the sky break apart,
No crown of yours will chain my heart.
Echoes of that day, they haunt my strings,
A requiem for all the broken things.
They danced and laughed, their voices bright,
Under statues bathed in starlit light.
But I survived where they did fall,
My hands unmade them, one and all.
The blossoms fade, the sky's undone,
I play for ghosts beneath a fractured sun.
I'll tear your threads, let the sky break apart,
No crown of yours will chain my heart.
Echoes of that day, they haunt my strings,
A requiem for all the broken things.
She put the instrument down, her eyes wet as she blinked heavily. "What are your plans with Rachel?" She asked flatly.
"₳ ₣ⱤⱠɆ₦Đ ₮Ø ₴₳VɆ ɎØɄ ₣ⱤØ₥ ɎØɄⱤ₴ɆⱠ₣ ₳₦Đ ₣ⱤØ₥ ₮ⱧɆ Ⱨ₳VØ₵ ɎØɄ ₳ⱤɆ ₵ⱤɆ₳₮ł₦₲."