Li Hua drifted in silver mist, her consciousness scattered like petals on water. Time had no meaning here—she could have been floating for moments or millennia. Occasionally, obsidian threads would pulse through the haze, each one carrying echoes of her recent dissolution.
"Don't leave..."
The voice reached her as if from underwater, familiar yet strange. In her mind's eye, she saw fragments of herself being pulled back together by threads of darkness. But something else lingered in those spaces between realities—memories that didn't belong to her, couldn't belong to her.
