†Noca's POV†
I keep seeing the same thing.
I am walking in the thick forests that have been forbidden, moving slowly as though I were one of the souls cursed to wander the earth aimlessly. My robes are old, dirtied with mud and clay, water from the streams I have passed through clinging to my skin and making me reek. My face is ghostly pale, blood always trickling down my lips. My hair, though black, always turns white in this vision.
My mouth remains closed and locked. I am unable to speak. Only able to stare. Stare at the people who pass me, people whose states mirror mine, whose clothes smell just the same, who wander without purpose around trees or into dead ends.
Once, I had fallen off a cliff, yet I rose, unbroken and untouched.
Once, I had been swallowed by a river, believing the mighty waves would drag me far away or drown me, but still nothing happened. I rose from it, unhurt, as if the waters themselves refused to claim me.
