A voice echoed through Absynthe's slumber, ethereal and accompanied by a thousand whispers murmuring her name, "Absynthe..." A single voice softly called her again, "Synthe," followed by a louder, clearer second call, "Absynthe!" Suddenly, a scream—a deafening, piercing cry—shattered the stillness, jolting her awake. She sat up abruptly, gasping for air, her chest tight with the weight of the visions that haunted her mind.
Absynthe's eyes fluttered open, her vision adjusting to the dim glow of the room. An improvised campfire flickered gently in the corner, its warmth a quiet comfort amidst the unsettling scene. The scent of food cooking hung in the air, but her surroundings spoke of ruin—a once-occupied building now ravaged by time and abandonment. Beyond the broken windows lay a desolate world, its streets coated in an eerie red tar, its structures decayed and forlorn.
Resting beneath her was a faintly glowing mattress, crafted from Synthena's blue dust—functional but unassuming. Absynthe's fingers brushed its surface as her mind raced.
"Abby, you're finally awake!" Synthena exclaimed, breaking the silence with relief. She approached with a bowl of food cobbled together from scraps she had scavenged during her hunts. "Apologies about the bed," she added playfully, sitting beside Absynthe. "It's not exactly luxury. Conjuring a mattress was hard enough—imagine trying to whip up a pillowcase!"
"You must be starving after three days of slumber," Synthena continued cheerfully. Absynthe blinked in confusion. "Three days! What do you mean, three days?" she spluttered, her voice rising as she stuffed food into her mouth, only to pause in shock. Synthena sighed, her teasing tone softening. "You don't remember? The day you fought that squirrel—oh, Abby, you were amazing!" Synthena's eyes sparkled as she recounted the moment. "Your eyes were glowing, your voice—otherworldly. And then, a sword—light and energy itself—appeared right in your hands. It was like witnessing magic!"
Absynthe tilted her head, Synthena's excited narration fading into the background as memories flickered through her mind. Shadowed visions surfaced, chaotic images of glowing veins and surging power followed by darkness. Her thoughts spiraled. What's happening to us? Could this be tied to the comet?
Suddenly, a thud split the room's fragile calm. Growls and screams echoed from the lower floors, cutting through the night like jagged blades. Absynthe jumped to her feet, her instinct driving her toward the broken window to investigate. "What was that?" she demanded, rushing ahead.
"Wait! Abby!" Synthena called, leaping forward to stop her, her voice tinged with urgency. But it was too late—Absynthe reached the edge first, looking out into the night.
The world outside was a twisted nightmare—roads slick with red tar, monstrous creatures stalking the ruins, gunfire sparking from a fleet of soldiers battling to contain the chaos. Absynthe's breath hitched as the horrifying scene burned itself into her mind.
Synthena pulled her down abruptly, the two lying flat, pressed to the floorboards as the ground shook from distant explosions. "W-what is wrong with them?" Absynthe whispered, her voice trembling. Synthena answered softly, her gaze heavy with sorrow. "A lot has changed since you were asleep," she murmured. Though Synthena had seen this destruction before, the weight of it pressed anew on her shoulders.
Absynthe's eyes filled with intense desperation, vivid images dancing across her mind. Shadows flickered and twisted through her vision, and the world around her seemed to grow louder—a cacophony of chaos paired with fragments of slumbering dreams.
Synthena's hands glowed faintly, her breath calming as she conjured a blue rose from her dust. The petals shimmered softly, spinning peacefully as Synthena guided it to float in mid-air. "Here," she said gently, her intention clear—to distract Absynthe from the heavy scene outside.
And to her relief, it worked. Absynthe sat up slowly, her eyes fixed on the luminous flower. She reached out, her fingers brushing its petals with wonder. "Wait... how are we here? Weren't we in the forest earlier?"
Synthena's tone shifted playfully, scratching the back of her head with a sheepish grin. "Well, in the three days you were out cold, I... um... left the forest," she admitted with a nervous laugh. "It was way too quiet—and suspense? Not my thing. I thought something was going to jump out at me any second. I mean, now I totally get what moms go through. Talk about stress!" Her laughter filled the room, lifting its intensity for a brief moment.
Absynthe tilted her head, her thoughts snapping back as a sudden realization hit her. "Wait... where did the others go? Weren't they with us in that basement a couple of days ago?"
Synthena's smile faded, replaced by quiet uncertainty. Her hands dropped, the rose flickering slightly before stabilizing in Absynthe's grip. "You're right," Synthena murmured, her voice subdued. She gestured around the room, her movements wide and exaggerated. "I guess I got so caught up in… all of this," she admitted, her tone tinged with regret.
Her words hung in the air like mist, their meaning heavy yet unresolved. And then, Absynthe froze. A figure stood in the dust, barely visible behind the corner of a ruined building—a silhouette faint and blurred. A thousand voices murmured in Absynthe's mind, echoing a cryptic warning: "Over there, she stands…"
Syn, can you—can you create binoculars? Anything to help me see in the distance properly!" Absynthe's voice trembled with urgency, her gaze fixed on the faint silhouette outside the broken window. Synthena sprang to her feet, the pressure of the moment weighing heavily as she summoned her shimmering blue dust. Sparks danced around her hands as she worked hastily to craft the tool.
Her efforts yielded a misshapen, tiny telescope—far from perfect but functional enough. Synthena handed it over quickly, her movements rushed. "Here!" she exclaimed, wiping sweat from her brow as she passed the awkward creation to Absynthe.
Absynthe examined the telescope skeptically, twisting it in her hands before darting a disapproving glance at Synthena. Catching the look, Synthena clutched her chest in mock offense, sputtering, "What?! It's the best I could manage under pressure! It's not—" Her words, meant as a defense, faltered into incoherence. Her eyes glazed over, her head spinning as exhaustion overtook her.
With a soft thud, Synthena crumpled to the floor, landing in an unceremonious position—arms sprawled, legs askew, and bottom slightly in the air. Soft snores began to echo, her peaceful dreams punctuated by occasional giggles. The absurdity of her slumber momentarily lifted the tension in the room, drawing a faint smile from Absynthe despite the gravity of the situation.
Unfazed, Absynthe adjusted the telescope carefully, angling her posture and twisting the misshapen lens to see through it. Her pulse quickened as she glimpsed the blurry figure outside. Could it be… Celestia?