"What is your name...?" Iris asked softly, though her heart already knew the answer. Her body recognized the girl's aura—a deep resonance that echoed like a faint drumbeat from the depths of her soul. A trembling stirred in Iris's chest, a fragile dance between bittersweet hope and profound fear, as if the heavy weight of an unseen responsibility pressed upon every breath she took. She loved this girl with the boundless depth of the endless ocean, yet the outside world whispered of a more complicated, painful story—one darkened by uncertain shadows looming in the future.
The girl lowered her gaze, her expression swallowed by a biting silence. For a suspended moment, time itself seemed to waver around her, as if the fragile fabric of reality strained to contain an overwhelming presence arriving too soon—flooding the air with a quiet, indescribable energy. Strands of her hair danced on a wind that did not exist, as invisible particles of existence seemed to shimmer and twirl in her vicinity. Her cloak billowed with an elusive rhythm, stirred not by any earthly breeze,
but by a defiance of the very law of causality itself. In that impossible stillness, Iris found herself caught in silence, overwhelmed by a piercing longing mixed with sorrow—like a shadow blurred and dark, hinting at an unpredictable and haunting future. She wondered, with aching tenderness, if this girl would ever know the happiness she so desperately deserved.
"I can't answer, Mother."
"Why?"
"Because my name... is not yet to be spoken in this world.
If you were to know it,
the world would rush to accelerate my birth,
or... erase it entirely."
Suddenly, Iris felt a sharp, searing pain coil tightly around her chest, as if a knife had been plunged deep within, tearing through her heart with unbearable anguish. How cruel that this child must shoulder a burden no child should bear—a responsibility so vast it dwarfed her tender age and fragile spirit. She longed to scream aloud, to shield her from such torment, but uncertainty held her captive in silence, paralyzed and unsure how to help.
Motionless, Iris remained trapped in a suffocating void, the air thick with unshed grief.
"Is the world truly that afraid of your name?"
The girl closed her eyes, the hidden pain within her soul folding into itself like a shadow stretching across her delicate cheek—not a physical scar, but the invisible imprint of battles fought in a future far too heavy for her young shoulders to bear.
All around them, the night wind whispered softly, weaving through the trees as if nature itself recognized the weight the girl carried. It tried to cradle her with serene murmurs, offering fleeting solace amid the agony. Darkness gathered between them, wrapping around Iris like a shroud of silent sorrow—an invisible fog that hung thick and heavy. A faint, trembling curve lifted at the corner of her lips, but there was no joy there; only the deep, relentless despair that gripped every beat of her heart, holding tight her fragile hope.
"My name is a fork in two destinies:
one to be a savior.
The other… the final ruin of all language."
Within Iris's heart, waves of sorrow battered relentlessly, crashing like ceaseless tides against sharp cliffs of despair. Tears trembled at the edges of her lids, threatening to spill as she struggled under the overwhelming weight of her emotions. Why must the world be so cruel? Why was this innocent child forced to carry such a devastating burden of uncertainty upon her fragile young shoulders? In the depths of her anguish, she sought to conjure a flicker of light, a vision of a hopeful future, but thick shadows gathered, swallowing the promise and enveloping her mind and soul in suffocating darkness. What could she possibly do to shield this girl from the terrifying fate that loomed ever closer, like a storm darkening the horizon? She longed to scream against the injustice but found her voice reduced to a trembling whisper: "I will do it. I will find a way."
"If you know who I am...
then you will begin to see me as hope.
And that will open the path for Azazel."
A tremor wove through Iris's heart at those words, shaking the fragile threads of faith she clung to like a candle flickering amid a violent storm. Hope was elusive—delicate and wavering—but beyond her fear, within that meaningful gaze, she detected a fragile glimmer, a faint spark that might yet save them both from the drowning darkness pressing in from every side. Drawing a trembling breath, cold night air sliced through her like shards of ice, and she tried to steel herself, whispering a small vow to the silent night: "You must believe. You must fight."
Slowly, a new understanding settled into her bones.
That this child's very presence was not merely a miracle, but also the final test between love and truth.
"So what must I do?" whispered Iris, her voice trembling with uncertainty, as if casting her words into the oppressive darkness that wrapped around her like a shroud.
The girl slowly opened her palm, revealing fragments of an ancient glyph—shimmering shards of a spell once wielded by the legendary Voidwrights. Each shard pulsed with a faint, otherworldly glow, radiating a mysterious and potent aura that seemed to hum with forgotten power. Iris stared at the delicate pieces, a swirl of curiosity and dread tightening her chest. "What is this?" she breathed, her voice raw and hoarse, struggling to fathom the daunting significance of this enigmatic relic. A subtle tremor coursed through her fingertips, as if an intangible force tethered her to the unknown depths these fragments embodied.
"Use this when you begin feeling contractions in the eighth month. It's not meant to save you, but to ensure that I am born with my own soul, not with Qayïn's."
Iris searched the girl's face, a shadow of profound despair settling over her heart like an impenetrable fog. The thought of losing her child before they could share the warmth of a first embrace weighed heavily on her soul. Each word uttered felt as burdensome as a heavy stone sinking deep within her. Doubt gnawed relentlessly at her spirit—was she truly strong enough to bear this cruel fate? "But… what if this only brings you pain?" she whispered, feeling the fragile threads of hope unravel as powerlessness wrapped around her like a cage, woven from invisible strands she neither could alter nor escape.
"And when the time comes… don't call me by name," the girl murmured, her eyes shimmering with fragile hope. "Call me by… feeling."
Iris wept silently.
No tears fell; the sorrow was too profound, too pure to be borne into liquid form. Instead, her soul splintered into innumerable shards, each one a piercing reminder of her own delicate vulnerability. She carried the weight of dreams meant only for mothers to hold—dreams heavy as stones pressed against a fragile heart. Yet, under the cloak of night, she found herself growing more isolated, swallowed by shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly around her.
"What can I do if I have to let you go?" The question echoed through the hollow chambers of her mind, a haunting refrain that wrapped itself around every flicker of hope and despair. Outside, the night remained a silent witness to their shared grief, the faint glow of the moon weaving shifting patterns of light and shadow that deepened the ache between them.
"One more thing, Mother…"
"Please… tell Father," the girl whispered, her voice trembling with fragile hope.
"Please... tell Father that I do not hate him for not coming."
"I understand... he is saving the world in a way even the world does not want to be saved."
Time began to fracture the girl.
Her form flickered like a fading flame, growing hazy and dissolving into a swirling, nameless void. Iris felt a crushing tightness squeeze her chest, as if a heavy stone pressed upon her rapidly beating heart. Each heartbeat echoed with unbearable pain, a relentless drum that marked how deeply loss had rooted itself in her soul. She longed to scream, to pull her daughter close one last time, but the harsh reality shattered every hope and dream they had ever shared.
"I have to go back.
The Kronofracture Guardians have tracked me.
If I stay here too long, they will erase this place... and you..."
"Wait—"
Iris reached desperately toward her daughter's hand, but the air between them stiffened, an invisible barrier freezing her movements. The distant barking of dogs pierced the night—sounds that should have brought comfort now twisted into echoes of sorrow, leaving a choking silence in their wake.
"I love you, Mother."
"Even if I cannot say my name..."
"You will always recognize me in the beating of your own heart."
In that fleeting moment, she vanished like mist at dawn, leaving behind only a faint whisper of a memory that seeped gently into Iris's mind. The woman stood shaken, submerged in an ocean of sorrow that churned her emotions with relentless force. The tender memories—their intertwined hands, the girl's laughter dancing like sunlight through leaves—now felt like a delicate poem, abruptly silenced before its final verse. Only fragmented glyphs remained,
an unspoken name echoing softly, suspended within the hollow womb of space,
like a poem forever unfinished, yearning to be fulfilled.
All around her, the morning dew shimmered like scattered gems, catching the pale light and trembling on blades of grass, yet to Iris, each sparkle seemed muted, as if a heavy shadow draped over her heart. She longed to hold on to that radiant smile, but it slipped behind a thick, impenetrable curtain of gray sorrow. Every breeze carried a faint, familiar scent—whispers from the past that made her chest tighten—but beneath the shroud of melancholy, those cherished memories now felt like chains, binding her tightly and denying her the freedom to move forward.
"What am I to do without you?" Iris whispered into the emptiness, her tears caught somewhere inside, refusing to fall despite the weight of grief crushing her spirit. She clung to herself, trapped within an endless, spiraling inner dialogue. Each thought deepened the heavy burden of helplessness in her soul, igniting a fierce anger at the cruel fate that had so mercilessly torn the girl from her embrace.
As the atmosphere shifted, the air around Iris thickened with a palpable energy, wrapping her in a mystical and awe-inspiring embrace. She felt a profound power coursing through the space, invisible yet undeniable, though the girl remained just beyond her reach. The very ground beneath her seemed to quiver with sorrow and uncertainty, as if the world itself shared the crushing weight of loss. Despite the haunting memories etched into this place, Iris sensed it lived on as an eternal testament to a love that time could never diminish.
"When you left, I lost a part of myself," she murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, fading like the soft rush of wind through autumn leaves. "But I will carry your memory in my heart and keep searching for you. Perhaps one day, if fate allows, we will meet again in a space beyond this world."
Before the vision of the girl dissolved completely, it left Iris with a hollow ache—a sharp emptiness slicing through her soul like a blade cleaving the quiet of night. She knew with a piercing clarity that no guide or map existed to lead her daughter back; they were ensnared in a merciless destiny, trapped in a web that swallowed hope and shattered dreams. "It's time to save myself, even if it means living without you," Iris whispered into the cold air, her voice trembling like a fragile sigh sent across the chasm that now separated them.
Deep within her heart, Iris felt a quiet stirring—a gentle, persistent whisper from the very depths of her soul. Though her child was no longer alive, this soft voice reminded her that true love transcends all boundaries, reaching beyond unseen and boundless spaces. "I will love you in memories, in sorrow, and in ways that will never fade," she vowed, her words carried on the breeze as if the wind itself bore her message across the vastness between them. This fragile thread of devotion wove through the turbulent waves of grief, binding them together across invisible realms—a bridge unseen by the eyes yet powerfully felt within the depths of her aching heart.