(Damien)
I could feel the roots of the tree, their ancient pull anchoring me to this place, but the image of Vishnu in that haunting conversation remained clear in my mind.
Vishnu. My father.
The war… What war?
His words were still in my thoughts. We won. But that couldn't be right. I couldn't even remember the war. My memories were a mess, with scattered thoughts and feelings like leaves in the wind.
"Amelia." The name whispered through my mind, familiar, but distant, like an old melody I couldn't quite place.
I couldn't ignore it any longer. The fog in my mind moved as I searched for something solid to grasp onto. Images flashed. Her face, her voice, the warmth of her touch.
Amelia.
But was it real? Or just another trick of the mind, another figment conjured by the tree to keep me bound to this place?
