Echoes of a Forgotten Bloom

The lantern light… it mimics the bioluminescence we used to cultivate in Xylos, doesn't it? A pale imitation, yet… comforting. I haven’t spoken of Xylos in centuries.
He thinks this is just a simple street festival, a taste of old Kyoto replicated for tourists. He doesn’t see the residue clinging to these stones—the echoes of star-faring vessels, the whispers of beings who walked between dimensions.
I remember a time before language, when thoughts flowed like currents and touch held the weight of galaxies. When a single glance could unravel the mysteries of existence. Then came the Silence, the fracturing of realities, scattering us across these fragmented timelines.
He offered me an apple—a genetically modified imitation of something long lost, yet I took it. The warmth in his eyes is… unfamiliar, and strangely compelling. A flicker in the void. A resonance.
Perhaps oblivion isn't so bad if you have someone to share its twilight with. Perhaps this fractured existence... has a purpose after all.

Editor: Ancient Future