Shards of Reminisce Ch.55

I'm walking through busy streets, a heavy bag filled with yarn over my shoulder. It's more bulky than heavy, which makes it a little annoying to navigate through the ever crowded streets. People have to circle around me, though they look... strange somehow. Their faces seem to blur when I try to focus on them. 

Must be my imagination.

But that's okay. This city welcomes everyone, as long as they have coin. Ul... something. 

Strange.

The name slips away, even though I know this place. I live here, don't I? I’m even saving up to buy an estate at the next auction.

Doesn't matter. I know where I'm going.

I push through the doors of a large building and immediately I'm hit with familiar sounds—laughter, clinking mugs, the buzz of conversation. Adventurers fill the tables, drinking and sharing stories, creating a lively atmosphere that feels like home. Part of me wants to join them, but I have work to finish, and getting drunk won't help with that.

I navigate past the crowded tables toward a counter where... someone stands. A very well dressed short woman, important somehow. She's my friend, I think. The details keep sliding away, but she is special.

Right?

She hands me a slip of paper with what I assume is a warm smile. I can't quite make out her features, but I know she'd be smiling at me. Although she should look to replace that hat of hers.

"Thanks T..." But the name dies on my tongue. I take the paper and head upstairs to my room.

Inside, I drop the massive bag onto the floor and start pulling out different colored yarns, spreading them across my bed in organized piles. The colors are vibrant, though they seem to shift and blur slightly when I'm not looking directly at them. 

Strange… I don't remember drinking anything earlier.

I sit on the edge of the bed and summon my sewing kit. Time to complete my leves. Something about how adventurers constantly tear through their gear; it's crazy how quickly they go through pants more than armor.

My hands move by instinct, muscle memory guiding each stitch. My usual quality clothing piles up piece by piece, creating a small mountain of finished garments. Each seam is perfect, each stitch precise. 

Then I finish the last piece, and my breath catches in my throat.

The object in my hands isn't another pair of pants. It's a strange black wolf with a skull-like helmet and glowing red eyes. I blink hard, rubbing my eyes with my free hand, but the thing is still there when I look again.

This doesn't make sense. I was crafting pants, not toys. I didn't even take any commissions for stuffed animals.

So why is this thing in my hands?

Did those red eyes just blink at me?

I don't get a chance to process this as the thing suddenly lunges forward, its jaws opening impossibly wide to swallow my head whole—

Only to wake with a sharp gasp, finding myself in a forest clearing. My head pounds with a dull ache that makes me wince as I take in my surroundings. Right, I remember now—I'm on a mission. Had to set up camp to be well-rested and at full strength for hunting those plant monsters. The sun hasn't risen yet, so there's still time.

"Are you okay?"

My ears perk up and I turn to see my…. mission partner sitting by the dying embers of our campfire.

"I could cast a healing spell if you want," they offer, concern evident in their voice.

I wave a hand dismissively. "No, it's fine. Just a weird dream. Happens sometimes."

I shake my head, trying to clear the strange, fragmented images, and focus on getting our campfire going again. Whatever that was about, that wolf with red eyes, it can wait until after the mission. Right now, I need to stay focused on the task at hand.

But something about that felt... off..

Whatever.

My friend places a hand on my shoulder, drawing my attention back to her. When I turn, I see the same young woman with silver hair and sharp blue eyes that seem familiar yet distant, though something feels off about her appearance.

Maybe she used the wrong lipstick?

"You know…" she starts. "maybe we should wait for… to arrive tomorrow. It might be safer with three of us."

I look down, weighing our options. Part of me wants to just finish this mission and get it over with, but another part understands her reasoning. Before I can answer, a long yawn escapes me. Maybe I'm more tired than I thought, but I can still manage.

I look back up at her to give my decision.

And words die in my throat.

My whole body goes still. Every muscle locks up at once.

"What's wrong?" she asks, tilting her head with what should be concern.

But her face... something's wrong with her face. It begins to shift and distort, skin peeling away in strips like old paint before black globs pour down. Her eyes fall as well leaving nothing but a black hole.

My hands start shaking uncontrollably. Cold sweat drenches my back and tail bristles.

"Are you okay? You're worrying me," she somehow says, but the voice comes from that horrific cavity where her mouth used to be, echoing strangely..

Her remaining skin and flesh simply slides off like wet paper, revealing a black hole with no end. An empty leaking socket stares at me and makes my stomach lurch.

I try to scramble backward, but my legs have turned to dead weight. They won't respond no matter how desperately I will them to move.

The thing that was pretending to be my friend extends a hand leaking the same black disgusting liquid.

Finally, strength returns to my legs. I bolt upright and run, crashing through the forest without any thought of direction. Branches tear at my face and arms, but the pain barely registers through my head.

Because nothing will stop me. I can't stop.

Then my foot catches on a root and I'm falling, hitting the ground so hard that stars explode across my vision. I try to push myself up, gasping for air, but something wraps around my ankle before I can get back forcing me to look over my shoulder.

Black tendrils, dozens of them, coiled around my legs like chains. Without a second thought I try to shake them off but it doesn’t work but tightening their grip and pulling.  Realizing what is about to happen, fingernails tear as I claw at the earth.

"Da da da da da..."

"Da-da..."

"Da!"

"Pa!"

"Pa!"

The sounds make every hair on my body stand on end.

Babies?

No, it isn't, it simply cannot be real.

And that is when tiny hands emerge —infant fingers, but wrong, too many joints, nails like claws—grabbing at my arms, my clothes, my hair.

My throat closes up. I can barely breathe.

With so many hands, I’m forced to look back and see a massive hole in the ground, a perfect circle where all of this nightmare is coming from. But the baby cries grow louder, more desperate, as they drag me closer to the edge.

And that’s the last place I want to be.

I fight with everything I have, my remaining fingernails breaking and bleeding as I keep clawing at the earth but it does nothing to stop me from being taken away.

Inch by inch

Second by second

Until my ruined hand finally finds the edge of solid ground. I grip it with both hands, knuckles white while dozens of tendrils and grasping distorted hands try to pull me down.

The baby cries become deafening as the point causes my ears to go flat against my scalp trying to not bleed from pain.

Then I feel them—a pair of gentle, familiar hands covering mine. Human hands, warm and reassuring. The same warmth where I rested for so long.

"Help…e!" I scream, my voice cracking. "N… Help me! Please!"

But instead of pulling me up, the voice that responds is soft. Almost motherly tone.

"Let the new cycle start anew…."

Those gentle hands carefully, deliberately, pry my fingers loose from the edge one by one. Each finger that lets go sends a fresh wave of terror through me.

My scream tears through me as I fall into the endless pit below. 

Watching a smile disappear forever

------------------------------------------

I jolt awake.

I'm on a hard floor, something wrapped tightly around my entire body. The bindings are especially constricting around my head and neck, making it difficult to breathe properly. My vision is blurry, and I have to blink several times to fight off the drowsiness that still clings to me like a heavy fog.

As my eyes adjust, I see that I'm tangled badly; really fucking badly, in what looks like towels, sheets, and various pieces of old clothing. They're wrapped around me so tightly it's like someone tried to turn me into a whole. Or maybe I did this to myself while thrashing around in whatever nightmare I just escaped.

I take a deep, shaky breath and exhale slowly, trying to calm my heart that has been pounding against my chest before I start the tedious process of undoing this mess. My fingers fumble with the knots and twisted fabric, each layer revealing more of the chaos I somehow created. When I finally free my head completely, I cradle it in my hands for a moment, feeling the dull ache that's settled behind my eyes like a persistent headache.

Slowly, I get back to my feet, my legs unsteady as I look around. Same warehouse as before, but I'm not in the center where Neo and I were training earlier. Instead, I'm somewhere in the back, near a pile of broken crates and what looks like a makeshift cardboard bed. 

Did I crawl back here while unconscious? No, more likely Neo dragged me here.

But I remember being awake… at least until I tried to cross the door where everything went black.

I quickly pull out my scroll and check the time.

4:17 AM. 

Shit. I was out for hours.

Looking around the dimly lit space, I realize something that makes my stomach drop.

Neo is nowhere to be seen.

"Neo?" I call out, my voice echoing off the empty walls that make me feel alone. "Neo, where are you?"

And to my surprise, somebody calls back.

"About time you woke up."

Miltia emerges from behind a stack of crates, still wearing that same red sports bra and black pants from earlier. She looks tired—dark circles under her eyes, hair slightly disheveled. 

Has she been keeping watch this whole time?

"Miltia?" I blink in confusion, my brain still trying to catch up. "What happened? And why the hell are you still here? I thought you left to start your shift or something."

She crosses her arms and gives me a look. "Your girlfriend had to leave about an hour ago. Something very ‘important’ to deal with." She makes air quotes with obvious skepticism. "She offered to pay me to stay to watch over you, so here I am."

"I was unconscious for hours?"

"More like having some kind of seizure," Miltia says bluntly. "You were thrashing around, making weird noises, wrapped yourself up in everything you could grab. We had to wrap your head with towels otherwise you would have split your skull open."

"Seizure?" My ears perk up.

"That's what it looked like, happens occasionally at the club. Neo tried to wake you up at first, then held you in place until I arrived but you just kept getting more violent, so we figured it was safer to let it run its course. But I have never seen one that badly." 

I run a hand through my hair, feeling how damp it still is with sweat. "I don't know. Everything's been... weird lately."

"I can tell." Miltia lets out a long yawn and rubs her eyes, clearly exhausted. "At least your psycho girlfriend is paying me for this babysitting gig, otherwise I'd be seriously pissed about losing sleep over your mental breakdown."

I roll my neck, working out the kinks from sleeping on a hard floor. "Thanks for staying around, I guess. You didn't have to do that."

"Yeah, no kidding." She stretches her arms above her head, then fixes me with another pointed look. "Which is why I will be crashing with you."

"What?"

"Look, I'm exhausted, and there's no way in hell I'm going all the way back to the commercial district to find somewhere to crash at this hour." She crosses her arms with a scoff. "That's the least you owe me for not abandoning your unconscious ass to the rats."

I stare at her for a moment, processing the demand. Part of me wants to argue, but she's got a point. Even if she was being paid she didn’t have to stay to watch.

I let out a sigh, running both hands through my hair. "Fine. I can do that much, I guess."

"Good." Miltia grabs her jacket from where she'd left it draped over a crate. "Because I was going to follow you anyway if you said no. At least this way, you can pretend you had a choice."

I can't help but snort at that. "How generous of you."

"I know, right? I'm practically a saint."

We gather what little we have and head toward the exit. As we walk through the empty warehouse, I can't shake the feeling that something's watching us. But every time I glance back, there's nothing there except darkness and broken crates.

Just my nerves, probably. After those nightmares, I'd be paranoid.

"By the way," Miltia says as we step out into the cool night air, "your girlfriend left you a message before she took off. You should check it."

I pull out my scroll and check in case I've missed when I checked the time. Sure enough, there's a text from Neo with way too many heart emojis and a promise to make pancakes and eggs in the morning.

At least some things are still normal.