''What a beautiful day…"
In an age of turbulence, a boy sat motionless on the floor and opened his eyes for what felt like the first time or perhaps not. He found himself adrift in an endless sea of darkness.
His skin was pale, his long black hair hung down to his shoulders, and he wore strange gloves marked with unfamiliar symbols. But what stood out most were his eyes; deep, dark, and filled with an unsettling shadow.
At that moment, both hands clutched his head as strange, guttural noises escaped his mouth. The pain was overwhelming, incomprehensible, as if it had been lying in wait, ready to strike the moment he awakened.
He screamed with everything he had, his voice echoing through the void while his skull vibrated violently. The agony clawed at his sanity like a thousand needles digging into his brain all at once.
How was he still alive?
Was the human mind even meant to endure something like this?
Just as he reached his limit, the pain vanished; suddenly, unnaturally. One moment it was unbearable, the next it was simply… gone. No trace. It left him questioning if it had even been real. Had he imagined it? Had it truly happened?
Those seconds had felt like an eternity.
But finally, his thoughts began to clear. He took slow, uneven breaths, trying to focus on his surroundings.
None of it made sense.
He tried to calm down, to piece together what had just happened, but his mind was still clouded. Nothing came. With a sigh, he scratched his head and muttered under his breath, almost mockingly,
"Who the hell am I supposed to be…?"
The headache hadn't disappeared, and more importantly, he couldn't remember anything. Not a name. Not a face. Not a single memory.
He searched desperately through his mind, hoping to find something, anything that could explain why he was here, who he was, or where he had come from. But it was useless. His earliest memory was this very moment: waking up in a place of total darkness, with pain tearing through his skull.
His mind was a blank slate.
After a while, he forced himself to his feet, realizing that staying still in a place like this might very well mean death.
He scanned his surroundings, hoping for some clue, some landmark, anything that could help him make sense of the situation.
But all he saw was darkness so absolute it was suffocating. There was just enough light to see a few steps ahead, but no more.
No sound, either. Nothing. Except… no during his screaming, he vaguely remembered hearing something. A bell. A strange, distant bell. He hadn't noticed it at the time, but now the memory tugged at the edge of his mind.
Then, he looked up.
Two massive half-moons loomed in the sky, casting a faint, eerie glow.
As for the ground beneath his feet—it was unnaturally flat. Too perfect. As if something or someone had wiped away every imperfection, smoothing it into something alien.
He wasn't sure if he was calm because he didn't know fear—or because he'd already lost all sense of reason.
"Are you all right, sir?"
The voice came suddenly—soft, trembling—and startled him so much he nearly jumped.
His heart pounded as he turned. Just a few steps away stood a young girl with wide, anxious eyes, her body shaking slightly as she approached with caution.
But what caught his attention most… was how much she looked like him.
She was like a younger, more fragile version of himself.
Is she my sister? Someone from my family?
"Who are you, little girl? And how long have you been there?"
He asked with a soft smile, trying to calm her.
"You really don't have the face for smiling, mister," she muttered, still watching him warily.
He blinked, surprised at how quickly her fear had faded.
"I'm… Celestia, I think. I'm not sure. I just remember a blinding light… and a white bird. Then I was here. Every time I come to this place, someone's always screaming. It's too dark to run away. And besides, you're not even that tall—how did you not see me? Oh, and I'm starving and..."
"Okay, okay, I get it," he interrupted, raising a hand. He hadn't expected her to talk so much.
"Seems like you're just as lost as I am," he muttered.
"I'm sorry. Please don't abandon me," she said suddenly, tears running down her cheeks. "I can be useful too…"
She's not as fine as she seems, he thought.
He gave her a gentle smile. "Don't worry. I won't abandon you."
He didn't know why, but he felt a strong urge to protect her. It was more than just the resemblance, something invisible was pulling him toward her.
"For now, I think we should focus on getting out of here while we still can," he said, his tone firm.
Celestia wiped her tears. Her eyes sparkled with a flicker of hope. "Then we can head for that tower. At least it's something," she said, pointing behind him.
"What tower?" he asked, frowning.
He turned and froze.
A colossal tower stood far in the distance, reaching up and piercing the sky. It shimmered faintly, almost like a mirage.
Had he gone blind from the pain earlier?
For the second time that day, he questioned whether he could trust his own vision.
"I'm not even sure we can reach it," Celestia added.
She was right. It looked so far away that even a lifetime might not be enough to reach it.
And yet… something about it called to him.
Ah. So it's not that the moons are huge, it's the sky that's strangely low.
"Are you listening to me?" Celestia asked, frowning.
He turned to her again. "Yeah. I think it's our best option. If we wander around blindly, we'll just get lost."
Celestia smiled. "Let's go then."
He nodded and followed as she stepped closer to him. Together, they started walking toward the light—their first glimpse of direction in this strange, quiet world.
After a moment, Celestia glanced at him and asked, "With all the yelling earlier, I forgot. what's your name, sir?"
He raised an eyebrow, still walking. "Good question."
He hadn't even thought about that. And yet, strangely, the answer came to him easily, like it had been waiting all along.
"Ice."