Chapter 7 - Chapter 1.7: Corridor Of Memories

𝟏.𝟕: Corridor of memories

Cassie's perspective

𝐈 didn't hesitate to take Nylos' hand this time.

The transition that followed was unlike anything I'd ever felt.

One moment, I was bracing for another magic show, gripping his hand for dear life—and the next, the world around us dissolved like ink in water.

When I opened my eyes again, the air felt cold and shallow.

We were standing in a vast, pitch-black corridor, quiet as a graveyard. The space stretched on endlessly, and far ahead, a single door stood lonesome in the distance.

There were no walls in the traditional sense—just a dense, infinite void, much like the one I'd passed through before entering Laos' door.

But unlike that place, this darkness wasn't entirely devoid of light. Here, it shimmered faintly with scattered beams of color. I couldn't name them at first, but then realization struck.

These were… memories.

Glowing, holographic echoes hovered like stardust in motion, illuminating the otherwise dim corridor.

Scenes flickered to life around me: a grand ballroom lit in gold, a woman with tear-streaked cheeks staring into a towering mirror, a sword clutched in a trembling, bloodstained hand.

As I walked forward, each memory played out in haunting detail before dissolving back into the dark, only to be replaced by the next.

The woman in those scenes… she felt strangely familiar.

Her face, those moments—they stirred something in me, like half-remembered dreams slipping through my fingers.

I could hear the cogs turning in my mind, louder with every step, until everything clicked at once.

Holy shit. It was her.

Elysia de Valmont.

My breath caught as another scene bloomed before me: a younger Elysia, maybe sixteen, standing barefoot on a balcony, her silvery-white hair tossed by the wind. She looked so real, I could almost reach out and touch her.

Nylos, I whispered, not taking my eyes off her. What's she doing here? She's from a novel I used to obsess over. These are her memories. I remember these scenes.

I turned to him, disbelief rising in my chest. What are a fictional character's memories doing in here? Is this some kind of joke?

And then the worst thought struck me.

My voice cracked. Wait… don't tell me I'm getting reborn as her?

Nylos' expression softened, but the weight behind his nod was unmistakable. "She's your new vessel. Yes."

I froze. No way. No way in hell. What are you talking about? She's not even real!

Panic lodged itself in my throat. Nylos, I thought you were giving me a chance to be reborn in my world—not as some made-up character from an unknown author!

I took a step back, heart thudding. This makes zero sense. I demand an explanation.

Nylos didn't answer right away.

For a long moment, the corridor felt still—eerily still. The memories shimmered and shifted around us, but he remained silent, his scarlet eyes fixed on them. Gold flickered at their center like drifting fairy dust.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

"You're right," he said. "Elysia was created by an author in your world. But once her story was imagined… once her world took root in your heart and in the hearts of others—it gained substance beyond fiction."

He raised a hand, and one of the holograms—Elysia dancing beneath a rainy sky—floated toward him. He smiled gently at it.

"I don't choose just any stories, Cassandra. I choose the ones that left an imprint on the soul I'm guiding. Stories that meant something to them." He turned to me. "Because those worlds, those characters… they don't just disappear when the book closes."

"They exist, independent of your realm. You think they're fictional because you saw them on a page. But to me—and to gods who see beyond your world's boundaries—those stories are entire dimensions."

My lips parted, but I couldn't find words.

"Why do you think I chose this story?" he continued, stepping toward another memory—Elysia, older now, cradling a small bundle, kissing the tiny face nestled within. "Because you already know parts of it. You've lived in that world through its pages. You understand its rules, its people… and most importantly, its tragedies."

He looked at me again, eyes steady and grave.

"And that means you have a chance to change it."

But how? I whispered, incredulous. How are you able to turn stories into reality?

There was a pause—then a quiet, powerful answer.

"Because I'm the son of the Sun god," he said. "The god of creation."

"I inherited a fraction of his power—the ability to breathe life into things once imagined. Not vast realms like Helion, but smaller, isolated, self-contained worlds. The kind authors create. I can make them real."

He walked past another echo—Elysia collapsing in a garden of wilting roses, clutching a bloodstained letter—and exhaled softly.

"These stories become sanctuaries for the souls I guide. With them in their hearts… they're given a second chance. A chance to rewrite a fate they already know."

He turned to face me fully, his expression unreadable.

"Cassandra, you know how Elysia's story ends. You remember what she lost. Why she fell."

I swallowed hard. That's the thing. I didn't know. I didn't know why she had to die—why her own son murdered her.

The book stopped updating after chapter 150. That was shortly after Elysia was sentenced to death in front of the whole empire. It wasn't like I had access to the author's drafts. I couldn't predict what came after that point.

I was as clueless as every other reader.

And Cassian was an unpredictable psychopath. Just the thought of being related to him chilled me to the bone.

I forced my voice to stay firm. You're right about one thing. I do know how her story ends. She dies. Miserably.

But that was just her story. In case you don't know, Elysia wasn't even the protagonist. Cassian and his female lead were. The story continued without her.

"I know," Nylos said softly. His crimson eyes dimmed with sympathy. "But you have the power to change all of it. That's why you were chosen."

What do you even mean by that, Nylos? It felt like he was trying to tell me something he couldn't say aloud.

Another memory lit up beside me: Elysia, kneeling in a cathedral, her face hollow with grief, sobbing quietly into her hands.

I felt my heart sink.

I couldn't do this. She… she was just like me. She lived a life full of pain. And I wasn't trying to step back into misery—I was trying to escape it.

I can't be her, I whispered, Elysia lived a life full of misery. She was neglected, used, and eventually murdered by her own child. I don't want that for me. I'm trying to avoid that.

Nylos didn't speak right away.

He just stood there, letting my words hang in the silence, like he respected the weight they carried.

"It's not Elysia's pain you fear," he said gently. "It's the unknown. You've lived your whole life watching stories unfold from a distance, knowing how they'd end. But now… you're the one in the pages. And that terrifies you."

I looked away. He was right, but it didn't make it any better. Being alone in that dog-eat-dog world with nothing in my arsenal… I couldn't do it.

I would be killed off before I could even find my bearings. My wits could only get me so far.

"You won't be alone, Cassandra," he continued, as if reading my thoughts. "Every soul I guide is given a companion—a system. Think of it as your anchor, your helper, your… cosmic assistant."

I blinked at him. A system? Like in those level-up cultivation novels?

He chuckled, nodding. "Good thing you already have an idea of what they are. Rest assured, your system will guide you through your days, give you access to necessary items, even reward you for key accomplishments. Most importantly, it will help you understand the world you're entering and how your choices shape it."

I hesitated. So, like… a cheat code?

"Precisely," he grinned, eyes twinkling. "But sassy. A sassy cheat code."

Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me. The tension in my chest loosened.

You're giving me a real chance, huh? I said, quietly. A chance to do more than just survive her life.

"I'm giving you the reins," he said. "You can mourn the woman who came before you, but don't let her past dictate your future. You've got power now—knowledge, instinct, and the right to choose."

I drew a deep breath, feeling that spark of resolve take root. You're right… I'll try. No, I'll do my best—with the system and with whatever strength I have.

Fortunately, I wasn't waltzing in alone. Having a companion through it all didn't sound so bad.

Nylos' expression warmed. "That's all I ask."

Then he gestured down the remaining stretch of the corridor. "There's just one thing left. You need to walk the rest of this path on your own. As you do, you'll absorb all of Elysia's memories—even the ones you never read about. Her private fears. Her silent hopes. Her truth."

I nodded slowly. So when I reach the door…

"You'll be ready," he said. "Ready to live her life—your new life."

A pause lingered, quiet and full.

Then, softly, he added, "Even though you've read the story before, don't forget… this world breathes. It changes. The people aren't lines in a book any more. They're alive. And they will change because of you. Every action you take, every bond you forge—it matters."

His voice turned softer still, laced with something tender.

"We may not meet again, at least not face to face," he said. "But I'll be watching, always. My eyes are on the stars… and you'll be one of the brightest."

Before I could say anything, something shimmered between us—a single white feather, glowing faintly like moonlight.

He held it out, letting it drift gently into my hand.

What's this for? I asked, the feather warm against my skin.

"You'll understand when the time is right," he murmured. "Don't let go of it until you pass through the door, no matter what."

The corridor began to hum faintly, the door at the far end pulsing with gentle light.

I looked up at him, heart aching in the strangest way. Even without meaning to, my eyes began to water.

Thank you, Nylos. For everything. I'll… I'll never forget your kindness. Thank you for choosing me. And for giving me a fighting chance.

The entire profile of the god before me lit up with a smile. His response was short. "Go rewrite your fate, genius psychologist, Cassandra Arlette."

Before I could let a tear slip, I quickly turned toward the door, clutching the feather close.

And I began to walk.

Step by step, the memories folded into me like a thousand voices.

And when I reached the door, I didn't hesitate.

I stepped through.