*
Walls stand tall against the very sun, strands of light seep through like supple fibres. Transparent sheets of cloth sway ever so slightly, darkening those strands of light. There are only these minute holes in the walls, the air remains pallid and cool, almost stale.
Marble floors display their ostentatious eminence as far as the eye could see, blending colours in a far too intricate manner such that visitors might find their gaze lost in its world. The ceiling stretches tall, absorbed into the pitch black darkness at the top like the insides of a cone. There's no need to hide it, this was a glamorous castle. One that seemed out of a fairy tale.
The intense light of the setting sun escapes through those minute holes, there is minimal lighting in these ghastly empty halls. A sense of desolation persists in the heart of those that witness this indoor scenery. Tables and soft oil lamps line the wall, correction, these are mana powered lamps made to resemble the oil lamps of yore, there is clear intent to go for a medieval feel here. If pushed to say, the owner of the castle wanted this image, while yielding the convenience of mana lamps.
Mana, magical energy, there are various kinds. A myriad of compositions, properties, reactions, such as the eldritch energy of The observatory, the endless efficiency of The Super Satellite. The most common type consists of the unpossessed magical energy of the atmosphere, it's possible to use a jammer or emp of sorts to block people's access to magical energy, it has its own principles in that matter... But essentially, magic is infinite in its rawest form.
It does not occupy space, it does not obey time, it records and destroys information, it embodies or mimics concepts as well as eliminates them. There are as many types of magical energy and it's applications, as there are stars throughout the existence of time. Solving the physical law of energy conservation becomes trivial, energy generation and efficiency becomes a given fundamental. These mana lamps can stay lit without a drain on any material energy, such as electricity. They also require no maintenance as long as the medium that serves as their shell does not get damaged.
Yet, these halls will remain empty forever more. A lone girl runs through these very halls, countless images run through her mind. What are these images? I don't know, but this was what I saw. Right... Of course, because this is a dream. Where is she running? Why is she desperate? When her legs are already on the verge of breaking, she strides forward beyond her very limits.
There is no stopping her. Eventually, she reaches a large door. I can't see what's on the other side... Rather I don't want to see. A foreign emotion pervades my mind, forcing my neck from turning. It hurts, like two wills in conflict, crushing the flesh of my neck. At the same time there is no flesh. I'm a spectre of the dream, there couldn't have been flesh. So why does it hurt?
***
The soft velvety sheets wrapped around my body, my awareness returns like a computer booting up. I spontaneously absorb information all at once. Touch, scent, temperature, smell, sound... Everything but the sight that would open up from my groggy squinting eyes. My body feels heavy, was it always heavy in the morning? I can't remember something that trivial, after all I have to think about how to revive Lastia. I need to return this body, this love that I am receiving.
Arin is aware of who I am, but she can't help see her in me. I am pretending to be her, I have to, so it's not helping... I don't wish to forget like she did. I... Fear it. I don't want to disappear, I don't want to forget myself... No, these fears are unfounded. I am not feeling my fear, I am feeling fear for her. That's right... After some repeated iterations, language will inevitably become more precise, crash, burn, reform, and repeat.
So then, these feelings of mine... I can't let anybody find out. I can't let anyone forget Lastia. The real her, and not this fake. The contents of the dream has mostly faded when I regained recognition of my surroundings, as Yggdrasil, my senses are more attuned to the ambient mana in the air. It's akin to have a third eye, only that there is no physical eye to open to speak of. It simply accepts the information stored in the magic of my surroundings, automatically, so when I woke up I was overwhelmed with information instantly.
A normal person would say it's like cold water. It served its purpose of jolting my systems up. Actually, could I even call them systems anymore? I have assimilated with this body, practically completely. I, Yggdrasil, am partially a spiritual entity, and partially a living being. First formed to store magic externally, then used as a yardstick for magic quantity as well as to automatically use that measurement to form a barrier and protect my master.
Lastly, I was made to overload master's body with magic, and to counter the arcane erosion that comes with overloading. Every magical girl has natural physical enhancements, it isn't anything special. Overloading would drive the output of these enhancements or augmentations beyond natural limits, she was fighting the strongest opponent it was only natural. But this feeling of emptyness and weight would never go away.
Like my central organs are gone, and weights continue to sink the depth of this void. That's how it feels when I think of my master. I miss her, I think that's what this feeling is. When Arin used the curse to stimulate my ego's development, I didn't think I would learn emotions this fast. I didn't particularly lack them in the first place, I followed master's mannerisms and she showed minimal reactions in the first place. Just put on a smile and 90% of people would be fooled, that's how isolated she was.
Though 90% of people aren't my obstacles here. It's only Sariel. That's why the lies only feel more pronounced, the guilt weighs more. I've become too feeling. A high spec AI like me could never fail the mission of blending in and replacing Lastia. Arin was a different situation she placed the curse so she could sense how our soul was different from the start. Right, it's easier to think of my situation like this. Lastia died and her soul has passed on, now Yggdrasil fulfills the body as the next inhabitant soul. Yggdrasil was always here, always close to her master.
I've had enough of gazing at the ceiling. So I tore the sheets off and sat up, I find myself smiling sweetly at Arin's sleeping face. Her cheeks look squishy.