For just a moment, Avarka saw her own face. It was not entirely her, yet it was as if a twisted, perfected version of herself had emerged. A part had been taken from her—another part had been added. It was as though a mirror had been placed before her, one that reflected not only her present self but also an imprint of another life.
Through the winding streets, she followed the unfamiliar figure until she finally stood before a vast garden.
In the silver glow of the night, white daffodils swayed in the wind. As she ran her fingers over the velvety petals, a strange, inexplicable peace embraced her.
And that was when she saw the woman.
She ran toward a man, her movements light yet weighted, as if she had waited a thousand years for this moment. As she touched him, her words fell into the air like a whisper:
"You're here, my love."
The man slowly turned around. His brown eyes were familiar—yet impossible to truly know.
His features were granted just enough time to be recognized before they dissolved into the fog of her consciousness.
Every movement between them was so intimate, it felt almost sinful to witness.
Above the daffodil fields, the air swirled with happiness, love, and the scent of a time long lost.
The fracture of memories.
In a single moment, I found myself in a completely different place. I couldn't decide whether my mind was playing tricks on me or if the woman intended to show me this. There's always that lingering doubt—just like in a dream. One moment, we're somewhere, and the next, we're somewhere else, with everything filling up with indescribable nonsense and incomprehensible events.
Now, too, everything shifted as if a dream were continuing, but in that moment, I couldn't tell: Is this really happening, or has it already happened? Or perhaps it is yet to happen? Or is my mind merely processing the events of the day, mixing them up entirely?
Ever since I learned about angels, I've come to believe many things. I believe in past lives, in the idea that the world is more than what one first perceives. But a person's reality is what they see. If I told an outsider that angels live among us, they would find it unbelievable. But if someone has been taught this since childhood, if it becomes part of their everyday life, it no longer seems like madness. However, something else—something we have yet to hear of—might seem just as absurd to them. And that's how it is for me. I have accepted this world, but if someone were to tell me now that I could personally shake hands with Lucifer, perhaps even I would hesitate.
And yet… I stood there, in a completely different place.
The space was vast, but the walls were high and unyielding, as if they wouldn't allow sounds to escape. The people watched in silence, as though they all felt the same weight pressing against their chests.
The woman stood on the platform, her figure perfectly outlined in the cold light. There was no doubt in me—she was the leader. The kind of person whose presence commands attention, whose words don't just reach people but burn into their consciousness.
"We have remained silent for too long," she began, her voice slicing through the silence with sharp clarity. "For too long, we have looked the other way. For too long, we have believed that others could rule over us, and that all we could do was accept the world as it is."
She slowly scanned the faces of the people, as if reminding them of something they had perhaps long forgotten.
"But the time has come not only to guard the sins of the past but to atone for them. Those who have sinned will close their eyes forever today. This is the price of a guilty act. If we do not act, too many will believe they can steal, lie, or deceive us without consequence."
A man stepped beside her. Charismatic, exuding strength, and as he stood next to the woman, his touch on her arm was firm yet intimate. They were together—not just physically, but on a deeper, unspoken level.
"Hear her words," the man spoke, his voice resonating deep and clear. "The tide of consequences is inevitable."
The crowd stirred as if an invisible force pulled them together as one. The guards lined up behind the woman and the man, then disappeared with them through the door behind the platform. There was tension in the air, their movements sharp, filled with emotion.
And then it hit me.
Like a deep, forgotten truth striking me in the gut.
As if some part of me already knew this had happened before. As if I had been part of it. As if my soul had already lived through something I was now forced to remember, whether I wanted to or not.