Death came again.
This time, it was fire. The flames ate her from the inside out, boiling her veins, her lungs, her eyes, until her consciousness cracked and scattered like shards of glass. And then, as always, there was nothing.
The void.
Hine floated in the familiar emptiness, weightless and blind. She hated this place more than the pain. At least pain reminded her that she was still tethered to something real. Here, there was only silence, the kind that scraped against her thoughts and reminded her that she was truly alone.
Except this time, she wasn't.
"Hine."
The voice slipped into her mind like a soft ripple across still water, carrying a familiarity that froze her in place. Her body — if she had one in this in-between — tensed instinctively.
She remembered that voice.
"Silent Soul…" The name was barely a whisper, cracked and small, but it felt alive on her tongue. She hadn't realized until now how much she'd missed it, how much she'd needed to hear it again.
"Yes," the voice replied, quiet as the space surrounding them. "I do not have long. Listen."
Hine blinked into the nothingness, searching for any shape, any sign, but there was nothing. No form, no light, only that steady, calm tone vibrating somewhere within her. "Why… why now? Why are you here?"
There was a pause before Silent Soul answered. "Because you are close. Closer than they realize. Closer than you believe."
Hine's hands clenched in the void, frustration knotting inside her. "Close to what? Finding her? Finding… Aria?" Her sister's name trembled with desperation.
"Yes," Silent Soul murmured. "But your strength is not enough. Not yet. You must endure. No matter what you see. No matter how much it hurts. Endure."
The words hit her like a blade to the chest. She wanted to scream that she was already enduring, that every death hollowed her out more and more, but the stubborn fire that had carried her this far kept her mouth shut.
Silent Soul's voice softened. "They think you are breaking, Hine. But I know better. I have seen the way you look at the stars when you think no one is watching. The way you hold her memory, as though it is the only thing keeping you upright. Do not let that go."
Hine swallowed hard, forcing air into lungs that technically didn't exist here. "It's all I have," she whispered. "If I lose that… then what am I?"
"Then you are nothing," Silent Soul said gently. "And you are not nothing, Hine. You are… inevitable."
The word lingered in the void, heavy with a meaning she could not yet grasp.
Hine tried to steady her breathing, tried to memorize every syllable of that calm, melodic voice. She had questions — too many questions — but before she could speak again, a sharp pull yanked her out of the silence.
Her next death awaited.
She gasped awake, coughing, her body crumpled in some twisted simulation Ronova had conjured. The ground beneath her was sharp and icy, shards of obsidian biting into her skin. Her lungs burned like she'd swallowed knives.
"Hine," Ronova's voice echoed from somewhere above, calm as always, cold as always. "Up."
Hine groaned but pushed herself to her knees. Her muscles screamed, every nerve sparking with pain, but Silent Soul's words still rang in her mind.
Endure.
She bit her lip, blood staining her teeth, and stood.
Ronova tilted her head, eyes glinting like cut glass. "You are lasting longer," she noted, almost as if she were annoyed by the observation. "I wonder… is it instinct or stubbornness that keeps you alive?"
Hine met her gaze without flinching. "Maybe both," she said, voice hoarse but steady.
A faint, amused smirk tugged at the corner of Ronova's mouth. "Good. Then let us see how far both will take you."
The world around them shifted, the ice giving way to blistering heat, the sky cracking open with molten light. Another trial. Another death waiting to happen.
And yet, through the roar of fire and the taste of ash in her throat, Hine clung to the whisper in the void.
You are inevitable.
Hours bled into each other. Maybe days. Maybe years. Hine could no longer tell.
Each loop blurred into the next. A thousand different deaths, each more brutal than the last, until even her fear began to dull. But her purpose — that fragile, stubborn thread — held her together.
She started to move differently. Faster. Sharper. Her body, though broken again and again, began to adapt. She anticipated the angles of Ronova's attacks, her strikes growing more precise.
Sometimes, between one death and the next, she thought she felt it — the faint brush of Silent Soul's presence, like a shadow just out of reach. Not words, not even sound, just a reminder that she was not as alone as she thought.
One night, or what felt like night in this timeless realm, Hine sat on the cold stone after another failed attempt, her chest heaving. She stared at her hands, bruised and bloody, trembling from exhaustion.
"Why me?" she whispered to the empty air. "Why is it always me?"
For a moment, there was nothing. Only the sound of her ragged breathing.
Then, faint but clear, came the whisper. "Because you are the one who never stops walking forward."
Her throat tightened, and her vision blurred with unshed tears. She pressed a shaking hand against her chest, holding onto those words as though they were the only real thing left in this place.
The next loop began.
And this time, when Ronova's attack came — a blade of pure void tearing through the air — Hine met it with her own strike, fluid and instinctive. For the first time, the Ruler of the Void had to take a step back.
The realm trembled.
Ronova's expression sharpened with interest, her lips curling in something that might have been approval, or perhaps hunger. "Finally," she said, voice like ice. "Show me what you are becoming, Hine."
Hine didn't answer. She tightened her grip on the training blade, Silent Soul's voice echoing in the back of her mind like a steady heartbeat.
Endure. Become inevitable.
And she lunged forward.