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Cough.
Cough.
Lorelei woke to a fit of coughing she couldn't control. Her head throbbed, a dull, heavy ache that spread down through her limbs like ice water through cracks in stone. Every small movement sent a new spike of pain through her, and she knew, with a dull certainty, that it wasn't hers. The memories were translating themselves into flesh — the graves, the deaths, the countless faces of the Loreleis, one after another after another. None of them were hers, and yet they were all strangely familiar, as though a part of these memories had always belonged to her, waiting beneath the surface. But it was the petals, growing out of the figure's body like pale wounds, that Lorelei found the most disturbing of all.
Despite the pain, she managed to shift herself against the tree's trunk and take a long, uneven breath. She fought to remain conscious while her mind kept sinking, inch by inch, into that dark current.
"Lorelei. I'm—"
"Rei," she cut in, her voice cracking. "I told you. Call me Rei."
"Rei… I'm sorry." The figure's voice wavered. "I didn't want this to happen. I needed to show It that I wasn't going against its will."
"What do I care about whatever that was?" Lorelei spat, forcing the words out between breaths. "I don't want you to put me through this. Ever again. You hear me?"
"Yes… I'm sorry. It really was the only way."
"Stop apologizing and give me answers, will you?" She pressed a hand to her temple, fingers digging in. "You know exactly what I want to know."
"…"
"Cough—" she bent forward as it hit her, endured the coughing fit until it finally stopped, and then straightened up again. "Answer me. Why is your face like that? Why is your body like that?"
"They are sins I carry," the figure said softly. "People I can't afford to forget. Memories I want to cherish."
"Then tell me. Are these—" Lorelei gestured weakly toward the petals, toward everything. "Are these the Loreleis? Are they the same as us?"
"…"
Cough. Cough.
The pain died down a little, and she managed a full breath of the clear, sharp air. "You don't have to answer me properly. Anything will do."
Lorelei had always thought of the figure as a proud, unshakeable woman — someone whose mental armor nothing could pierce. But seeing her so desperate, so profoundly wounded, Lorelei realized the truth: the figure was exactly like her. That was when she found her answer, the reason why the figure was her, and she was part of the figure. She had built around herself not armor but an impenetrable steel cage — a cage she had locked herself inside. Not to keep the world out, but to keep her own feelings from showing, her sadness from leaking, her grief from spilling. These emotions were hers, and she would not let them go; she did not want to solve what caused them, because solving them would mean letting them end. Through the fractured little pieces of memory, Lorelei saw it: the figure was nothing but a weak, frail version of herself. A Lorelei who had abandoned care and attention in pursuit of a single goal. And for that, she was hollow. That was who the figure was.
The very first Lorelei.
"Don't hate me," the figure whispered. "Please. Even if you come to hate me… then… then I won't blame you."
"I won't hate you." Lorelei's voice was steadier now. "I could never. Even if I wanted to. We are one and the same, remember?"
"Yeah… one and the same…"
A long pause settled between them before the figure spoke again, her voice soft and stained with regret.
"One million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-eight. That's how many times you're allowed to die. Because… that's how many versions of you there are."
"…"
"I made a contract with an Arbiter. The Gate. It was that Arbiter who gave me the power to do it. To restart the world from our birth."
"And was that contract really necessary?" Lorelei asked. "To achieve your goal?"
"I failed while I was still alive. But The Gate gave me one million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-nine chances to redeem myself. And still, I failed. Again and again. Again and again… one million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine-hundred ninety-eight times."
"Failed to do what, exactly?" Lorelei's eyes narrowed. "Even last time you lied. That Lan, or whatever his name is — it's not your real objective, is it?"
A soft, lonely chuckle escaped the figure. "You saw through me, didn't you?"
"Yes… one and the same."
"Really… you…" The figure sighed. "If I tell you, both The Gate and The Tree will face the consequences. So let me prepare you for what's coming instead. I promise. I know my answer was vague, but I need you to stay strong."
"Alright. That's fine. Anything else I need to know?"
"Not really. Everything else will come naturally."
"I see."
Lorelei forced herself upright on the remnants of her strength. She gathered her sword and gun, which had fallen into the snow beside her, and steadied herself before the dried land surrounding the pillar. The air here was thinner, sour, wrong.
"You'll feel a little sick when you get close to it," the figure warned. "But it shouldn't be too bad — you have an Arbiter's favour."
Lorelei paused, one foot hovering in the air, then steeled herself with a breath and stepped forward. The first step across the dry land barely made her flinch. She had braced herself for something enormous, yet it was nothing at all. Perhaps the mental pain she had endured had numbed her to everything else. The earth crackled beneath her boots as she jumped across the visible platforms buried under the snow, and she made each landing deliberate — one wrong step could send her foot down into the cracks, snapping an ankle or worse. Halfway across, a slight shock ran through her body. She paused, crouched down, and pressed both hands to her head.
Turn back.
The voice echoed around her mind, soft and insistent, like a ball bouncing off the walls of her skull.
Turn back.
But Lorelei was used to this. Compared to a horde of souls screaming their pain into her head, a single voice was nothing at all. She barreled through the ache and marched on. The closer she came to the pillar, the louder its wailing became, a low grief-song that rattled her ribs. Unconsciously, a single tear ran down her cheek. Lorelei wiped it away and kept walking. A few steps more brought her to the soil at the pillar's base — and at once, the voice stopped. The blue particles streaming from the pillar swelled in number and size, then split apart to reveal a dark alley, swallowed in shadow.
"Once you go in, I won't be able to talk to you." The figure's voice was small, far away. "Are you ready, Rei?"
"I… I think so."
"Don't worry. I'm sure you'll resonate with… it," a slight pause came from the figure, as if she was going to speak further, but remained silent.
"…"
Lorelei stepped into the dark hallway, and the particles closed up behind her, sealing her in. Darkness wrapped around her body, then unfolded outward to reveal a new world. A long corridor stretched before her, lit only by statues perched atop rows of columns, each cradling a bowl of flame in both arms. The faint crackle of the fires was the only sound. Here, the voice telling her to leave had died to nothing. She gripped her sword tightly, tucked her gun into her waistband, and walked into the great hall.
The gray bricks beneath her made every footstep resonate through what seemed an endless tunnel. As she walked, staring at the imposing rows of columns, she began to lose her sense of direction — was she going forward, or had she silently turned around? A step left, and her right foot drifted forward. A step forward, and her left slid right. Even standing upright became exhausting. At last Lorelei stumbled, dropped to her knees, and crawled to the nearest column before dragging herself upright. She tapped along the stone to keep herself on course, using the tip of her blade as a cane, shuffling slowly forward between the never-ending rows.
The statues above were carved to resemble children with wings — what humans might call an angel. The flames balanced in their hands shifted to a bright, shadowy purple. Then, one by one, their closed eyes slid open and fixed on Lorelei. Her trembling stilled into something colder — a pure, overwhelming fear.
A life for a life.
They spoke in unison, mouths spreading open to reveal a second pair of teeth behind them, glinting in the firelight.
Blood for us. And death for you.
Their mouths spread wider, and another pair of teeth appeared beneath the last, grinning, hungry.
Show us thrill.
Their eyes rolled back, revealing thin, predator-like pupils dyed blood-crimson.
Fill our stone hearts with excitement.
Bloodied tears ran down their stone cheeks. Lorelei shoved herself away from the column before she could touch it again.
Master Lan.
The blood from their eyes seeped into the gaps between the bricks, tracing a pattern across the floor. It spread fast, faster than she could run, racing past her feet until the whole corridor before her was stained scarlet.
Give us a purpose, Master Lan.
The blood within the cracks began to glow a bright ruby — the same ruby as their pupils.
Feed us blood, Master Lan.
They sang the same words over and over, in choral unison, their voices rising louder and louder as their blood pulsed brighter. Lorelei ran with all her might, but wherever she fled, the angels were there, following her every motion, tearing her apart with their gaze.
Feed us blood!
Their mouths split open — another pair, another, another — and the blood that had stayed in the cracks began to rise. It lapped at her ankles, then her knees, flooding the corridor. Within seconds it reached her neck. She was forced to swim, but blood was far thicker than water — especially the blood of these statues. The purple flames flickered, broke loose, and dissipated into strands of smoke that curled across the surface as the blood climbed higher, toward the ceiling. Lorelei clung to her sword as she sank toward the bottom, drowning slowly, gradually losing consciousness in that sea of red.
* * *
Her body was carried through the corridor by the reverberating currents, pulled this way and that by an unknown force. She jolted awake — still alive, still breathing. The waves of blood crashing against the walls crumbled several pillars under their indomitable weight. Lorelei, still at the mercy of the current and fighting not to sink again, grabbed hold of one of the angel's statues despite her terror. As it gazed into her eyes, its pupil went horizontal, then widened, reflecting the fading brown of her own.
You've found me, Master.
Its endless rings of mouths peeled open, revealing a cycling esophagus beneath, contracting and expanding as if it were drinking the blood. The crimson sea rushed in, swirling like a cyclone. Lorelei clung to the angel's eroded stone wings, but the current was unrelenting — and at last she was swallowed whole. The cavity barely made room for her body to slide through, and she felt the flesh wrap around every inch of her, squeezing like a snake swallowing its prey, rendering her limbs useless. The pressure on her ribs forced the air from her lungs, driving out bubbles she watched float slowly upward. The angel's teeth snapped shut around her with a terrible clicking sound.
Hopeless. She had already accepted that was the situation she was in. She gripped her sword and gun with the little movement the flesh allowed, doing nothing but waiting for her brain to realize it was running out of the air it needed, to shut itself down on its own — suffocated by wet scarlet flesh.
* * *
The soft, reverberating drip of falling water woke her. Her mind was still fuzzy from nearly drowning in blood, but she felt well enough to stand. Her sword was in her arms exactly where she had held it when she passed out. Before her, imposing and silent, stood a huge double door, its surface the color of deepened scarlet, nearly blending into the surrounding wall. Lorelei walked closer and stopped an arm's length away. The rest of the hall was empty. Behind her stretched a corridor of brick identical to the one she'd come from — but this one had no angels above it, and no source of light at all. It was an unsettling atmosphere, and one Lorelei was used to.
As always, to summon her courage, she closed her fist, then quickly opened it. With all her might, she pushed open one side of the gigantic door.
This must be it.