The scent of cinders lingered faintly in the breeze—faint, but undeniable.
Otoku stirred.
He blinked into a sky he didn't recognize. No scorched horizon. No blood-slick stone. Just pale clouds drifting like half-formed thoughts. Birds called in foreign cadences, their songs unfamiliar—yet not hostile.
Beneath him, soft grass cushioned his back. His fingers curled instinctively, brushing the soil.
He whispered to no one, "I died."
But the silence answered with life.
He pushed himself upright, breath slow, cautious. His body felt... lighter. Younger. He moved to a nearby pond, catching his reflection in its still surface. White hair—too white for his age. Silver eyes, quiet with the burden of a thousand truths. His face was that of a boy. A boy who had died more than once.
No wound on his chest. No trace of the final blow.
Just a low, rhythmic hum within his ribcage. Not a heartbeat—but something older.
The Codex lay beside him, half-buried in the grass. Bound in tarnished metal, its cover breathed with faint pulses of void-touched energy.
Of course it followed, he thought grimly.
Always did.
"Another loop?" he muttered. "Or something else?"
The moment held—until a soft rustle broke the stillness.
He turned.
Someone stood at the edge of the clearing. Silent. Cloaked. Watching.
Her voice came first—soft, burdened. "You're not supposed to be here."
Otoku rose to his feet slowly. No sudden movements. "Neither are you."
She stepped forward, into the filtered light.
Blindfolded. White hair like spun frost. She looked young—but not unformed. There was weight in her stillness.
His breath caught.
"Arthelia."
The name surfaced unbidden, like a melody from a dream long buried.
She nodded faintly. "I remember you now… but not from this world."
A wind swept through the trees. The sky flickered. Then a deep, resonant bell tolled—distant, and wrong.
Time stuttered.
"Already fraying," she murmured, almost to herself. "You brought it again, didn't you?"
Otoku's grip tightened on the Codex.
"We never have much time," he said. "But we have enough."
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