Sunumi
A familiar sensation swept over Sunumi, as her lucid dream reeled closer and closer to its inevitable end. It began with a tingle, a persistent numbness, both feeling and not, crawling up her toes and fingers until the parts of her that once were, became whole again. Words circled her cloudy mind, trickling droplets of consciousness until their meanings flooded her once more. The light was last to pierce the veil, merging body and mind together with a snap that brought her back to the world she once loved.
Light, pale and pure, radiated from her silky skin and dripped to the floor. She wiggled her fingers, raising her hand up to glare at them with the same curiosity as she had hundreds of times before. It never mattered how many times she had been brought back, pulled from peaceful slumber in the land beyond both and light dark, Sunumi was always curious about how brightly her soul dripped. "Why," she questioned, still drawn to her own glow. "Why am I the light that never goes out?"
She took a moment to breathe, to take in the air that had touched her lungs from the day she was born, and persisted until she was born again. "Damp," she noted, placing them somewhere temperate. Her suspicion was confirmed when her eyes scoured the walls, moss gripping the cracks of the aging stone, with etched words that were far too faded to read. She wanted to investigate further, to see if the words could be salvaged, but it only took one step, one cool dose of spongy moss against her feet to distract her. "Right," she remembered; her vulnerability exposed to the dark of the chamber. "Cloths," she remarked, grasping her necklace, the only thing that ever survived the journey back. "Cloths would be preferable."
She looked around, finding herself atop a stone alter, a slight draft coming from beyond her light's reach. Her slender legs carefully probed down a set of slick steps, bringing Sunumi to the pathway. "Hmmmm, no traps," she deduced. "I can't remember the last time there were no traps. Oblivy must have been in a rush." She moved closer to the wall, resting her hand on the smooth stone, dragging it across as she advanced to the next chamber. "Now now, where did I leave you?"
The path opened up beyond the long hall, the air flowing more freely in the widened chamber. The floor curved in a semi-circle ahead, with steps that lead down to a lower level where others could have looked upon her in greater number. Pillars with the same strange faded markings, held up an aging ceiling, which lacked any distinctive style. "Cultist? Barbarians? Whoever built this place either lacked a sense of culture, or had no need of such things." She stepped closer to the edge of the steps, peering through the open doors for any hint of her belonging. "Hellllllo?"
No one answered, and the loneliness of the world settled in as she inched back against the wall, sliding down until she could feel the floor below her. The silence had become a companion in the years leading up to her sleep, and stuck with her for the entirety of her existence. She had lived thousands of lives, full of the chaos of that comes with being, but the silence always found her in the end, lulling her back to sleep so she could do the whole cycle again. At least she could feel the air, the eternal promise of life that lingered, and took a deep breath, feeling it seep in, when the memory struck her.
"Tiffany!" yelled, recalling the moments leading up to her last sleep. "Tiffany, I'm back."
"Sorry," a voice answered, distorting the light ahead. "It had been so long, I guess. I guess I just took a nap while waiting."
Sunumi smiled, understanding what it meant to wait, and how time could chip away at a person. "That's okay, dear." She rose to her feet, stretching the rust free from her revitalized form. "You lived more than anyone could ever ask." A gentle touch from Sunumi's radiance game the distortion form, outlining a timid child, a crystal shield weighting down her slender arms, and a white sundress and shoes resting on top. "How can I possibly repay you?"
Tiffany looked up to her, long glimmering hair covering a bashful smile. " I. I just. I'm just happy you’re free." The child's light flickered, her smile leaving as she placed the belongings in Sunumi's hands. "I'm sorry."
Something was wrong, something familiar. "Tiff?" she asked, her hand finding her shoulder. "What is it?"
The girl's eye found the ground, as she fumbled over which words to say. "Be careful," she whispered, almost as if they were not alone. "It's so much worse than it's ever been." Her spirit faded in and out, even under Sunumi's touch. "You have to do it. You have to set them free. Please. There won’t be another chance."
Light faded from the child as Sunumi tried to grab her, to pulse her light into her, but there wasn't enough, not yet. "What do you mean, there won’t be another chance?" she asked, grasping her light with everything she could muster. She wanted answers, to know the truth in her words, but the more she clung to that idea, the more fear she could feel, in the soul that had aided her for over a millennia. "Listen to me," she told her, the child too weak to respond, "This wasn't for nothing, I promise. I am going to end this all, just like I said I would. I am going to end it all, and we all can finally rest."
Slowly her limbs vanished, fading someplace familiar as Sunumi watched, never breaking her gaze. Sunumi smiled, gentle and brave, until long after the child was gone, hoping she could still see her from beyond. She took a moment to mourn, to let the memory of a friend fill her before she dressed and let the reality set in. This wasn't just another time, another place, another struggle. This was the last time, the last place, the last struggle, and it was up to Sunumi to make sure that every life before was not for nothing. She was going to set the world free, and let it finally get the rest that it deserved.
A familiar sensation swept over Sunumi, as her lucid dream reeled closer and closer to its inevitable end. It began with a tingle, a persistent numbness, both feeling and not, crawling up her toes and fingers until the parts of her that once were, became whole again. Words circled her cloudy mind, trickling droplets of consciousness until their meanings flooded her once more. The light was last to pierce the veil, merging body and mind together with a snap that brought her back to the world she once loved.
Light, pale and pure, radiated from her silky skin and dripped to the floor. She wiggled her fingers, raising her hand up to glare at them with the same curiosity as she had hundreds of times before. It never mattered how many times she had been brought back, pulled from peaceful slumber in the land beyond both and light dark, Sunumi was always curious about how brightly her soul dripped. "Why," she questioned, still drawn to her own glow. "Why am I the light that never goes out?"
She took a moment to breathe, to take in the air that had touched her lungs from the day she was born, and persisted until she was born again. "Damp," she noted, placing them somewhere temperate. Her suspicion was confirmed when her eyes scoured the walls, moss gripping the cracks of the aging stone, with etched words that were far too faded to read. She wanted to investigate further, to see if the words could be salvaged, but it only took one step, one cool dose of spongy moss against her feet to distract her. "Right," she remembered; her vulnerability exposed to the dark of the chamber. "Cloths," she remarked, grasping her necklace, the only thing that ever survived the journey back. "Cloths would be preferable."
She looked around, finding herself atop a stone alter, a slight draft coming from beyond her light's reach. Her slender legs carefully probed down a set of slick steps, bringing Sunumi to the pathway. "Hmmmm, no traps," she deduced. "I can't remember the last time there were no traps. Oblivy must have been in a rush." She moved closer to the wall, resting her hand on the smooth stone, dragging it across as she advanced to the next chamber. "Now now, where did I leave you?"
The path opened up beyond the long hall, the air flowing more freely in the widened chamber. The floor curved in a semi-circle ahead, with steps that lead down to a lower level where others could have looked upon her in greater number. Pillars with the same strange faded markings, held up an aging ceiling, which lacked any distinctive style. "Cultist? Barbarians? Whoever built this place either lacked a sense of culture, or had no need of such things." She stepped closer to the edge of the steps, peering through the open doors for any hint of her belonging. "Hellllllo?"
No one answered, and the loneliness of the world settled in as she inched back against the wall, sliding down until she could feel the floor below her. The silence had become a companion in the years leading up to her sleep, and stuck with her for the entirety of her existence. She had lived thousands of lives, full of the chaos of that comes with being, but the silence always found her in the end, lulling her back to sleep so she could do the whole cycle again. At least she could feel the air, the eternal promise of life that lingered, and took a deep breath, feeling it seep in, when the memory struck her.
"Tiffany!" yelled, recalling the moments leading up to her last sleep. "Tiffany, I'm back."
"Sorry," a voice answered, distorting the light ahead. "It had been so long, I guess. I guess I just took a nap while waiting."
Sunumi smiled, understanding what it meant to wait, and how time could chip away at a person. "That's okay, dear." She rose to her feet, stretching the rust free from her revitalized form. "You lived more than anyone could ever ask." A gentle touch from Sunumi's radiance game the distortion form, outlining a timid child, a crystal shield weighting down her slender arms, and a white sundress and shoes resting on top. "How can I possibly repay you?"
Tiffany looked up to her, long glimmering hair covering a bashful smile. " I. I just. I'm just happy you’re free." The child's light flickered, her smile leaving as she placed the belongings in Sunumi's hands. "I'm sorry."
Something was wrong, something familiar. "Tiff?" she asked, her hand finding her shoulder. "What is it?"
The girl's eye found the ground, as she fumbled over which words to say. "Be careful," she whispered, almost as if they were not alone. "It's so much worse than it's ever been." Her spirit faded in and out, even under Sunumi's touch. "You have to do it. You have to set them free. Please. There won’t be another chance."
Light faded from the child as Sunumi tried to grab her, to pulse her light into her, but there wasn't enough, not yet. "What do you mean, there won’t be another chance?" she asked, grasping her light with everything she could muster. She wanted answers, to know the truth in her words, but the more she clung to that idea, the more fear she could feel, in the soul that had aided her for over a millennia. "Listen to me," she told her, the child too weak to respond, "This wasn't for nothing, I promise. I am going to end this all, just like I said I would. I am going to end it all, and we all can finally rest."
Slowly her limbs vanished, fading someplace familiar as Sunumi watched, never breaking her gaze. Sunumi smiled, gentle and brave, until long after the child was gone, hoping she could still see her from beyond. She took a moment to mourn, to let the memory of a friend fill her before she dressed and let the reality set in. This wasn't just another time, another place, another struggle. This was the last time, the last place, the last struggle, and it was up to Sunumi to make sure that every life before was not for nothing. She was going to set the world free, and let it finally get the rest that it deserved.