As I clung to the last ounce of life still left in me, blood dripped from the corners of my lips. My breath trembled as I raised my head to glance one final time at Atom.
The cold wind wrapped itself around my dying body, its embrace neither cruel nor kind—just indifferent, like the hands of fate. My eyelids fluttered open with effort, and as I gazed into the abyss, I expected to be swallowed by darkness. But in that void, there was warmth. A gust, gentle and inexplicably comforting, caressed my skin.
And then—like a miracle carved from memory—I saw them.
My mother. My father. My brother. His wife.
All standing there. Still. Silent. Waiting.
Tears immediately filled my eyes. The realization struck me like lightning to the soul: they had been watching me all this time. Through every battle. Every loss. Every scar. They had been there. Witnessing. Waiting.
My age began to fall away from me like dead leaves in autumn. Slowly... and slowly... I became a child again. Fragile. Small. Innocent. I rushed into their arms, wrapping myself around them, burying my face in their chests. My sobs were unrestrained, my tears endless.
The abyss that once loomed like a void of despair began to change. Light, soft and white, bloomed from within our circle, pushing back the darkness like dawn chasing away night. Petals floated gently down around us, and the ground shifted. What was once empty and silent transformed into a garden—lush, eternal, bursting with color and life. Flowers swayed as if dancing to a song that only the dead could hear.
I turned my gaze back to the physical world. My body lay there—still, intact, untouched by decay. My lips curled into a gentle smile, even in death, as my lifeless eyes stared at Atom below.
I watched as palace guards surrounded him, shackling his wrists and dragging him away through the golden courtyard toward the palace. My heart ached. Regret welled up inside me, and I turned to face my mother and father.
"I never found it... I never found Citra."
My mother cupped my cheek with her warm, soft hand. Her eyes shimmered with a love that transcended existence.
"What do you mean, honey? We're in Citra."
My brows furrowed in confusion, but then I looked around.
Truly looked.
The wind carried no pain. The sky shimmered like polished silver. The air itself was fragrant with peace. Trees bowed with blossoms of violet and ivory. A gentle stream cut through the land, its waters so clear you could see the laughter of stones beneath.
My eyes widened.
"This place... it is indeed beautiful."
Yet, even with the serenity around me, an ache remained in my chest.
Because I knew—Atom would keep searching. Tirelessly. Desperately. For something that does not exist in the waking world. A place only the dead may reach. A place not meant for the living.
After a long silence, I stepped back. One foot, then two. As if to follow Atom. To return.
But my mother reached for my wrist.
"Where are you going, hon? It's time. Let us go."
I paused. My heart battled with itself. And then... I bit down hard on my tongue, spun around, and sprinted toward my lifeless body.
My hand stretched forward. Inches away.
And then—it hit me.
An overwhelming pressure crashed into my soul like the sky itself had fallen. A darkness so complete, it made the abyss feel like daylight. It wasn't death—it was something older. Colder. As if the world had placed its entire weight on my shoulders and told me no.
A gust of wind, barely strong enough to move a feather, surged forward with monstrous force. It hurled me backwards, violently, tossing me away from my body and back into the arms of my family.
That moment—brief as it was—was enough.
I had touched the edge of death. And I understood.
I could not return.
Everything began to dissolve around me. The garden faded. The wind grew still. My form, my very essence, began to dissipate, grain by grain, like sand slipping through time's fingers.
With each fading breath, pieces of my past—my memories, my name, my story—began to vanish.
Until finally, all was silent.
And I was nothing.
No pain. No joy. No thought.
Just an empty vessel, drifting beyond the veil.
Gone.
Forever.