Since I have no one and nowhere else to write, I decided to pour my thoughts here.

Once again, it's a quiet night, and sleep is nowhere to be found. My mind is flooded with thoughts of things I want to do, yet I can never muster the courage to do them when the time comes...

This silence is peaceful, but come morning, everything just passes like a nightmare. Don't get me wrong, I'm not dealing with any major hardships in life. The biggest challenge in my life is my own personality.

When I was a kid, I used to dream of what I wanted to become, always imagining myself as the protagonist of this story. And I believe everyone should see themselves that way...

But now, when I look at myself, I can't see myself as anything more than a parasite. I'm about to turn 24, and I've extended my university education to six years. If it were possible, I wouldn't even want to go anymore, because I hate my department and the people around me... Maybe saying I hate people sounds a bit selfish, but at least a little selfishness would make this lonely man feel better.

In these six long years, I haven't made a single friend—how pathetic. From the moment I leave the house until I return, I don't utter a single word, not even open my mouth. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those people who say, 'I choose to be alone, yeah.' I completely lack the courage to talk to people, and unfortunately, the shitty department I'm studying in won't be finished unless I communicate with people.

The worst part is that I'm still living with my parents, and whatever they say, they're right...

I really am a parasite. I wish I had the courage to kill myself.

Ahh... this survival instinct in humans is annoying. Even though my brain knows that dying is the solution, my body won't listen. It wants to stay alive.

It's as if my thoughts, which are desperate to die, are trapped inside a piece of flesh that struggles to live.

Tonight, I'm thinking about drinking alcohol to numb those instincts and end it, but now I'm starting to question if I really want to end it? I really don't know what I'll do. All I've done in life is go to school, and I'm scared to try anything new or talk to people at this point.

When I was a kid, everything was so much easier. I'm not talking about responsibilities. Whenever I wanted to talk to someone, I would just start talking without thinking. When I wanted to play, I would play. I lived as I pleased. But now, every move I make feels like it'll be scorned by someone, so I don't even bother trying.

Don't get me wrong, I'm aware of how small I really am. I know no one actually cares what I'm doing, but I can't help it, I still worry about these things...

After pouring my thoughts onto a piece of paper, I lifted my head and looked around, and at that moment, I realized my eyes were filled with tears. Ah, I really hadn't cried in a long time. That day, at least pouring my heart onto a piece of paper gave me some relief.

Nights like these came and went. Every day passed with the hope that tomorrow would be better, and years slipped away.

**Twenty-five Years Later**

I had nothing left. The last people who loved me, my mom and dad, had long since passed away.

After my mom and dad died, I lived my life doing daily jobs, slowly poisoning myself with cigarettes and alcohol to die sooner, but I'd had enough. Nothing was getting better, nor did it feel like I'd be dying any time soon.

At certain intervals, I had never taken the sleeping pills my psychologist had prescribed, and I had saved them all. I wish I could tell you that I drank wine in a bathtub while taking those pills and ended my life, but I didn't even have that luxury. After drinking enough in the shower cabin, I downed packs of sleeping pills.

I don't remember much after finishing the first pack, to be honest...

"Ahh, it's finally over," I mumbled as I drifted into sleep.

But then...

"Hey Lio, is it cold?" a voice woke me.

Water was poured over my head, and memories flooded my mind. I was a four-year-old boy named Lio. This child was me!

What's happening? Am I dreaming?! Could I be in a coma?! I was supposed to have died... Yes, I should have died. After all, there was no one to come and save me.

As I turned, a naked woman with blue eyes and blonde hair looked at me with concern. Her pointy ears and my memories told me she wasn't human.

She wiped my cheek, and said, "Lio, darling, you're scaring me. Why are you looking at me with such empty eyes?"

I blinked, trying to make sense of what was happening. "I'm just sleepy, mommy."

**Mommy?** The word slipped from my mouth before I realized it. I guess this child's habits past down on me.

Child... I had never believed in any religion throughout my life. I thought that when I died, I would merge into nothingness, like not even darkness just nothing, how peaceful to think that... But what happened now? Did I get reincarnated? Or did I take over the body of a poor child? I hope it's not the second, because even in my previous life, I would feel sorry when young, hopeful people died while I lived on...

As I was thinking these thoughts, 'my mom' had already dried me off, brought me to my room, put me in bed, and lay down next to me herself.

Anyway, if the situation is as my first thought, I wish I didn't remember my past life at all.

I soon fell asleep to my mom's lullaby.

**2 Hours Later**

As I slowly opened my eyes, there were two breasts in front of me; my mother was sleeping half-naked. Given how hot the forest we were staying in was, it made sense. And, despite regaining the memories of my past life, I genuinely wasn't having any impure thoughts about her.

I wonder, if it was because she was biologically my mother, or maybe it was because I hadn't yet hit puberty in this body.

On the other hand, I really do feel like a child. Memories really are what make us who we are, right? So, why did I have to remember my past? I was happy!! Or, if this body belongs to someone else, why am I back here?! I lived my life, and it was over—so why am I here again?! Damn it, I had wished I could go back to my childhood in my twenties and fix everything, but I wasn't given that chance. So why now?! This is unfair—I had finally given up on everything and managed to end that life! Why is someone doing this to me?! Someone, please answer!

'If you want answers, you must seek them, my child,' a voice echoed in my mind.

The voice… didn't scare me. It was a woman's voice, and it was quite soothing. Strangely, it felt like a part of me.

'Who are you?' I thought, but there was no answer.

**11 Years Later**

Even though I had turned 15, I looked like a child of only 6 or 7 years when compared to a human child.

Elves continued to grow until the age of 50, which, when compared to humans, would roughly correspond to the appearance of someone around 20 years old. After that, appearances remained the same for maybe thousands of years.

I had walked farther than I ever had before. Each step deeper into the jungle felt like entering an entirely different world. Trees grew thicker, taller, the air heavier with some force I couldn't explain. Then I saw it—the barrier. It shimmered in the daylight, a wall that seemed made of light itself, humming like it was alive.

And beyond it— them.

---

At first, I didn't understand what I was looking at. There were wings—many wings—too many to count, spiraling in impossible patterns. Eyes. Hundreds of eyes staring back at me, unblinking, burning with an intensity that made my skin crawl. But it wasn't fear. I didn't flinch. My body… it didn't react, didn't shudder. But my mind… my mind was screaming.

'What... what are those things?!'

They were terrifying. Twisting forms of light and shadow, with bodies that defied logic, their shapes constantly shifting—limbs where there shouldn't be limbs, mouths where there should be eyes. And the sound… oh gods, the sound. A constant low hum, like the drone of bees, but deeper, vibrating in my chest, gnawing at my bones.

I stood there, staring at them, not daring to move. Not because I was frozen in fear. No. Ever since I know myself, my body always stayed calm, still, but inside my mind, I could hear the echoes of a thousand panicked thoughts. But I didn't retreat. I touched the barrier and looked at them closely.

After a while, I made my way back to the village, my mind still buzzing from what I'd seen. I needed answers.

I found the old tree—the Elderheart. That's what we called it. Its roots were deep, older than anything else, its branches reaching the skies. The village elders told stories about it, how it protected us. How it was the reason we were safe. But now... I didn't feel safe. Not after what I saw.

I knelt before it, placing my hand on the rough bark. "What are those creatures behind the barrier?" I asked, my voice steady, though my mind still raced with the images I had just seen.

The tree, as it always did, responded in a voice like the wind through its leaves—gentle, ancient, and full of wisdom. 'Those are angels, Lio. Creatures of the heavens, though not as you imagine them. They are the divine wrath, the punishment of the gods.'

I clenched my fists, gritting my teeth. "And why are they here? What do they want?"

'They are here because the balance of this world is crumbling,' the tree whispered. 'That barrier you touched is my doing. It holds them at bay, but it will not last forever. One day, it will fall, and when it does, the angels will descend upon us. They will slaughter the men and children. They will ravage the women, and when they are done, they will kill them too.'

The words sank into me like a knife. The images flashed in my mind—I dreamed—or maybe it wasn't a dream.

It felt too real.

Suddenly, I stood in a place I didn't recognize. The air was thick and suffocating, like breathing in smoke. Shadows flickered all around, curling and shifting like living creatures. I took a step forward, my feet crunching against something soft.

Bodies.

The bodies of children, broken and bloodied, scattered across the ground. Their lifeless eyes stared up at me, wide open, frozen in horror. Blood soaked the earth beneath them, pooling like dark, sickening rivers. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't. I was trapped, frozen in place.

My stomach churned, and I felt bile rise in my throat.

A figure caught my eye—a man standing in the center of the carnage. His chest was ripped open, his ribcage exposed, and his heart still beat weakly within. His eyes were wild, full of terror, and his mouth moved in silent screams. The skin around his wounds was torn apart, as if something had ripped it off with its bare hands.

Then I saw it.

A creature loomed over him, its form barely human. It moved unnaturally, its limbs too long, its body twisting like a shadow made flesh. In its clawed hands, it held strips of the man's skin, blood dripping from its grotesque mouth. The sight of it made my skin crawl, my mind scream in protest.

I couldn't move. I couldn't help him.

A low laugh echoed through the darkness. My heart pounded in my chest, and I turned, slowly, to see what else this nightmare held.

And there she was.

My mother.

She lay on the ground, her body torn and broken, her clothes soaked in blood. Her breaths were shallow, labored, as though each one cost her everything she had left. Around her, the creatures—those same twisted beings—laughed, their bodies distorting and shifting in unnatural ways. Eyes where there should be mouths, wings where there should be hands. They were mocking her, tormenting her.

My legs felt like lead, my throat tightening as I tried to scream her name, but no sound came. I couldn't move. I couldn't save her.

Then, my eyes shifted, and I saw something even worse.

I saw myself.

Huddled in the corner of a dark cupboard, I was no more than a boy—maybe eight, maybe nine years old. My face was pale, streaked with tears, my small body trembling in fear. I stared out from the shadows, helpless, hiding.

Coward.

I wanted to scream at him—at me—to move. To help. To do anything. But the boy just stared, terrified, too afraid to even breathe.

"Move, you coward!" I shouted, my voice echoing in the emptiness.

But nothing changed. He didn't move. I didn't move.

And then, darkness swallowed everything.

I woke with a start, my heart hammering in my chest, my breath coming in shallow gasps. Sweat drenched my body, and I struggled to calm the panic that gripped me. The nightmare still clung to me, its images burned into my mind.

No... not just a nightmare. ''What was that?!" I asked to tree. It answered me with only one word, 'Foresight'

Foresight? Does that mean everything I see will come true?! No no no I didn't want anything like that. Why did I get reborn in the first place? To taste a different hell?

"Why did you bring me here?" I yelled, my voice cracking. "I didn't ask for this! I already died! I *ended* it all, and now I'm here again?! Just to die once more? Is this my punishment? Is this hell? It's been 11 years, just answer me! please..."

The tree's voice remained calm, unmoved by my outburst. 'I did not bring you back, Lio. You were reborn by the natural cycle of life. What I did was return your memories. They are yours, and always have been.'

"Then why?!" I shouted, tears stinging my eyes. "Why bring back those memories? Why not let me forget? Why do I have to remember all those years? All that pain? I could've lived without it! like a normal kid..."

The tree was silent for a long moment, the wind rustling through its leaves. Finally, it spoke, 'There is a reason, Lio. But that reason is not for me to reveal.'

I stared up at the tree, chest heaving, my mind racing. "A reason…" I muttered. "A reason for all this…"

But the answers were nowhere to be found. Not yet.