The shadows closed in, surrounding Nunna like a circle of judges. Each reflection stepped forward, their voices overlapping in a haunting chorus.
"I am you when you loved too easily."
"I am you when you betrayed before being betrayed."
"I am you… when you wished to disappear."
Their words struck deep, each one piercing an old scar. Her breath faltered. Which one was her true self? Which one would the temple accept?
Just as her chest tightened with despair, the liquid floor beneath her rippled again. A figure emerged, cloaked in silver light. Unlike the reflections, this presence carried warmth—familiar yet distant, like a memory she could almost touch.
The figure raised its head.
A pair of eyes—gentle, sorrowful, and impossibly real—met hers.
"Nunna… you've come at last."
Her heart stilled. The voice—she knew it. It belonged to someone she had lost long ago, someone who should not exist in this realm.
"Nunna… you've come at last."
Her breath caught in her throat, lungs refusing to obey as if the world itself demanded silence. The voice was warm, achingly familiar—yet it carried a weight of sorrow that pierced deeper than any blade.
No… it could not be.
Her eyes darted toward the shadows that writhed along the temple walls. They seemed to gather, weaving themselves into the faint outline of a figure she once knew. A memory, a ghost, or perhaps a cruel trick of the darkness.
"Nunna," the voice whispered again, closer now.
Every syllable struck against the cage of her ribs, calling back nights of laughter, promises never fulfilled, and a farewell drenched in blood.
Her knees trembled. She wanted to flee, but her heart—traitorous, longing—pulled her forward. Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered back, her voice shaking.
"…It can't be you. You're gone. You were taken from me."
The shadows flickered, and for a fleeting heartbeat, she saw it clearly: eyes she had once looked into with love, a face she thought the earth had swallowed.
And in that moment, the temple seemed to breathe with her grief.