Strangely, while looking around the dark place, Shawn felt a sense of familiarity.
The feeling appeared for several reasons, the first being obvious: he could see.
It wasn't perfect, but it was enough. After spending weeks trapped in endless darkness, simply distinguishing shapes and movement felt unreal. He stood there, staring at his own hands.
He lifted them closer to his face. They looked translucent and ghost-like, showing faint outlines rather than flesh and blood. Still, he could see them.
A laugh nearly escaped him.
If someone had told him a month ago that seeing his own fingers would become one of the happiest moments of his life, he would have questioned their sanity.
The second reason was harder to explain.
His body felt comfortable and safe here. There was no pressure weighing on his shoulders, no constant tension lurking at the back of his mind, and even the exhaustion that had followed him ever since Morgan kidnapped him was gone. It was peaceful. Suspiciously peaceful.
Shawn frowned.
Nothing about his current life justified peace, yet standing here felt natural, almost as if he belonged.
His thoughts drifted back to what had happened moments ago. The voice had claimed it was inside him, then he entered meditation, and then he arrived here.
The conclusion practically presented itself.
"This is my mind, isn't it?"
The darkness offered no answer.
Still, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he became. A mindscape. The term sounded ridiculous, but this was a world where people controlled water, ice, lightning, and other strange powers. Compared to that, having a mindscape wasn't particularly absurd.
Shawn looked around.
The darkness stretched endlessly in every direction, and only one area contained light: the spot where the violet figure remained trapped.
His attention shifted toward it, and the tiny figure immediately perked up.
"Please help me!" the childish voice echoed through the darkness.
Shawn didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he began testing his surroundings. He walked away from the figure, but the darkness remained unchanged. He walked further, yet still found nothing. No walls. No ending to the floor.
Eventually, he stopped.
The place seemed to respond to his awareness rather than physical distance. The moment he thought about the violet figure again, it seemed closer, almost as if distance didn't matter here.
"Definitely my mind," he muttered.
The figure tilted its head.
"Your mind?"
"Never mind."
Satisfied that he wasn't standing inside some hidden chamber beneath Morgan's manor, Shawn finally approached.
The closer he got, the clearer he could see it.
The creature resembled a tiny fairy with small arms, small legs, and a humanoid shape. The only strange part was its face. Light obscured most of its features, making it difficult to distinguish anything clearly.
Golden chains wrapped around its body, emerging from the surrounding darkness and anchoring themselves into nothingness.
The sight alone made Shawn uncomfortable.
The figure tugged at them weakly.
"Please help me."
Shawn crouched in front of it.
Instead of answering, he studied the chains.
"What are these?"
"I don't know," the answer came immediately.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"I woke up like this."
Shawn rubbed his chin. The response sounded genuine, which only created more questions.
"What are you?"
"I don't know."
"How did you get here?"
"I don't know."
"Who put the chains on you?"
"I don't know."
Shawn stared, and the figure stared back.
Neither spoke.
Finally, Shawn sighed.
"You are remarkably unhelpful."
The figure lowered its head.
"I really don't know."
Looking at its miserable expression, Shawn couldn't help feeling a hint of guilt. Just enough to stop interrogating it like a criminal, but not enough to trust it.
His attention returned to the chains.
If this truly was his mindscape, then theoretically, he should possess some degree of control here.
He focused on one of the chains.
Move.
Nothing happened.
He frowned and repeated the command, but the chain remained completely still.
Shawn narrowed his eyes.
Then he imagined it tightening.
The reaction was immediate.
The golden chain suddenly constricted.
"Ah!" the figure cried out.
The sound startled him, and the chain loosened almost immediately.
"Sorry."
The apology escaped before he could stop it.
The fairy-like creature rubbed its arm miserably.
"That hurt."
Shawn stared at the chains.
This was interesting.
He couldn't move them or remove them, yet somehow, he could influence them. It felt as if the chains were connected to the creature rather than the surrounding space.
He spent several minutes experimenting, but every attempt produced similar results. The chains ignored commands involving movement or removal, yet whenever his focus shifted toward the creature itself, they responded.
Eventually, he gave up.
The fairy watched him hopefully.
"Can you free me?"
"No."
Its shoulders drooped.
"Can you try harder?"
"No."
The shoulders drooped even further.
For some reason, Shawn found the reaction amusing.
"Look on the bright side. At least you have some company."
The figure blinked.
"There is no bright side. It's dark in here."
" You can't be helped." He muttered.
Despite his words, Shawn focused on the chains once more.
This time, instead of trying to remove them, he imagined them relaxing.
The golden links slowly loosened. Not enough to disappear, but enough to reduce the tension.
The fairy froze, its eyes widening as relief washed over its face.
"It doesn't hurt anymore."
Shawn nodded.
"That's the best I can do."
The figure looked genuinely grateful.
Moments later, it floated closer, the chains following behind like invisible threads.
Then, without asking permission, it landed on his shoulder.
Shawn blinked.
"What are you doing?"
The fairy simply sat there, its tiny legs dangling over his shoulder. It seemed perfectly comfortable.
The scene looked so ridiculous that Shawn couldn't help laughing, a sound that surprised even him.
He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed.
The fairy smiled.
"You seem happier."
"I can see again," the answer came naturally.
The fairy tilted its head.
"Seeing is that important?"
Shawn stared at the darkness around them.
"I would trade almost anything to get my sight back."
A comfortable silence followed before Shawn asked another question.
"Do you have a name?"
The fairy shook its head.
"No."
"You've never had one?"
"No."
The answer created another problem.
Naming things.
Shawn hated naming things.
Jean always handled that. Every pet, invention, and ridiculous project. Meanwhile, Shawn usually settled for names like Project One, Project Two, and Project Three. Were it not for him having a name already, Three would have been his current name.
After several moments of thought, a name finally surfaced.
"What about Eva?"
The fairy froze.
Then suddenly jumped into the air.
"I love it!"
The words left its mouth so quickly that Shawn almost missed them.
Then his entire body stiffened, and his smile disappeared.
The fairy noticed immediately.
"What?"
Shawn slowly turned toward it, his expression serious.
"Say that again."
"I love it?"
The words sounded identical.
Shawn's heart skipped a beat.
The language wasn't the one spoken in this world.
It was Nevrian.
The language of his previous world.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
The fairy shifted nervously.
"Did I say something wrong?"
"Where did you learn that language?" The question came out sharper than intended.
The fairy looked confused.
"I don't know."
"Think."
"I am thinking."
"Then think harder."
The fairy frowned.
Several moments passed.
Finally, it shook its head.
"I really don't know."
Shawn's thoughts raced.
No one here should know Nevrian. Not Morgan, not Vexer, and not even his parents.
Nobody.
Yet this creature spoke it naturally and instinctively, as if she had known it from birth.
The word triggered another question.
"When were you born?"
Eva looked thoughtful, taking longer to answer this time.
Eventually, she raised three fingers.
"Three weeks ago."
Shawn froze.
Three weeks.
The destruction of his clan, being kidnapped by Morgan, and the return of his memories,
Everything had happened exactly three weeks ago.
The timing could not be a coincidence.
It was impossible.
Eva looked at him curiously.
"Is that important?"
Shawn didn't answer.
His mind was already racing through the possibilities.
Exactly three weeks ago.
He looked at Eva again, and for the first time since arriving in this place, he felt like he was staring at a piece of a puzzle.
It was a vital piece.
And it was somehow connected to him.
The question was how.