The flickering lights slowly scattered across the sky, distancing themselves from the ground. Siff, finally having time to process things, stood up and looked around.
Fields of pale green grass stretched endlessly along the horizon. Pale trees with hints of golden cracks running through their bark stood still like ancient guardians under the light yellowish sky. A soft breeze brushed past him, carrying a faint scent of something sweet and metallic, a smell that felt strangely nostalgic, though Siff couldn't place why.
He had never seen anything like this before, yet deep down, he somehow understood what these things were. It was as if, in the far past—or perhaps in a forgotten life—this landscape had been known to him. These thoughts lingered quietly at the edges of his mind, creeping closer with every step he took and every new detail his eyes uncovered.
In the distance, the sky shimmered faintly, like a fragile veil barely holding reality together. It made him wonder if this world was already crumbling or if it had been left behind by something much older than time itself.
The grassy fields were occasionally decorated with strange statues. They were white, adorned with beautiful gold stripes running along their surfaces, carved into shapes Siff couldn't quite describe. Some were tall and slender, bent as if forever frozen in mid-conversation. Others were hunched and broken, staring into the horizon as if they were waiting for something—or someone—that never came.
"Why would this world be destroyed? It seems so peaceful here," Siff thought to himself, continuing to walk in a random direction, though the pull in his chest subtly guided him forward.
One thing Siff realized was that this world seemed even quieter than the underground. There were no humans, no Hollows. Nothing stirred except the grass and trees swaying with the wind. Even the lost souls drifting lazily through the air didn't seem to acknowledge him, as if he were little more than another part of the scenery.
And yet, there it was—that sensation in his chest. Faint but persistent. A subtle desperation. A weak pull toward what appeared to be nothing at all. His chest buzzed as his gaze fixed in a specific direction, as if some invisible thread were tugging him along.
So Siff followed.
After what felt like miles of aimless wandering, Siff spotted a ruin on the horizon. It looked like an old shed, something that might have once belonged to someone long ago. Faint trails of dark smoke curled up from behind it, vanishing into the pale sky.
"Could that actually be someone?" Siff wondered aloud, his steps quickening as he hurried toward the shed.
When he arrived, he saw that the structure had no windows, just a broken corner in the back that exposed the interior to the outside world. It was quiet. Too quiet. Inside, the remnants of a campfire sat cold in the middle of the floor, and a leather bag was tucked into a corner behind a few collapsed wooden boards.
Siff stepped cautiously inside and glanced around the small ruin. It felt abandoned. But curiosity tugged at him, so he checked the leather bag. Inside were a bloody knife, some dried herbs, and a small notebook.
As he held the notebook in his hand, unsure whether he should open it, a sharp, yet soft voice sliced through the silence.
"Open it and you're dead!"
Siff nearly dropped the notebook, his eyes snapping toward the broken corner of the shed where the voice had come from.
"Don't touch that stuff!"
A girl stepped into view. She looked about his age, with long crimson hair that fell like a waterfall down her back, contrasting sharply with her white robe.
"You're a Cyclebreaker too, aren't you?" she asked, her face filled with curious excitement.
"I... I guess I am? The small flickering lights said the same thing. Then these weird thoughts about saving them, the world, and reclaiming myself just popped into my head."
"Ooh—so you are one as well! That's nice. I've been alone here for so long without making any progress. These floating souls are kind of useless. They only talk to you if they feel like it, which is basically never. How long have you been here?"
Siff frowned, his thoughts muddled. "Eh... I don't know? Not that long, I think. I showed up here, the little blue guy told me some stuff, everything eradicated, and then I woke up and ended up wandering over here."
The girl let out a deep sigh. "So you've already experienced a cycle. The world gets destroyed by a massive yellow beam from the sky, and after that... well, everything resets."
"So... do you know how to stop it? I think that's what we need to do if we want to save those guys and reclaim our souls," Siff said, scratching his chin.
"This is my third cycle now. I've figured out a few things. I think I know what's causing the explosion." She pointed toward a massive rocky mountain in the distance. "Inside that mountain are these red-hooded creatures. They stand in a circle of blood, chanting these creepy words I can't understand."
"So... you think we have to stop them from finishing some ritual?" Siff asked.
"I've seen it happen with my own eyes. A fire rises from the blood circle, shoots into the sky, and turns it red. After that... well, you know the rest." Her voice trembled slightly, but she held it back.
"How long do we have before it happens again?"
"About five days, I think. Time works strangely here... not that it was much better in the Underground. If we don't stop them, everything starts over. And I really, really don't want that."
Siff stared at the ground, turning ideas over in his head but finding no clear solution.
"Oh! I almost forgot. I'm Ryn. Nice to meet you!"
"My name's Siff."
"So what do we do now?" Siff asked.
"We need to stop those robed creatures from completing the ritual. I've tried before—more than once. They're too strong for me alone.
Oh, and one other thing I forgot to mention. Try not to die here.
The normal souls floating around. They can't die because they don't have physical forms. But we... we're different. If you die before the cycle ends, your body dies, but your soul stays trapped inside it. And since we only have small fragments of our souls, there isn't enough power for them to escape.
So if you die now, your soul gets stuck in your corpse until the cycle resets. And staying trapped like that puts strain on your soul fragment. Too much strain, and it could break... and then you're gone. Forever.
I've already been killed by them once. Believe me... being awake but unable to hear, see, or move? It's not something you want to experience."
Siff gulped hard. His throat tightened.
"There's a small fortress west of here. I saw it while scouting earlier but didn't dare go in. Who knows what might be lurking inside. Buuuut... maybe with your help, we could take a look? Might even find something useful to fight those cultists!"
Siff gave Ryn a nervous smirk. "I keep feeling this pull in my chest toward the mountain... I guess we don't have much of a choice."
Ryn smiled and handed him a clean black robe. "Here, take this. Your clothes look like they survived the apocalypse... which they did, but that's beside the point!"
Siff swapped his tattered Underground robe for the finer black one.
Even though they didn't need the warmth, Siff and Ryn sat together by the campfire, sharing quiet thoughts. In their state, they could still feel temperature, but it never became truly cold or hot. Still, the fire gave them a sense of comfort—a small fragment of familiarity long lost from their memories.
Some time later, they packed up their things in a rush, preparing to head to the fortress to the west, hoping to find something—anything—that could help them put an end to the robed cultists' ritual once and for all...