Anomaly

In a matter of seconds, the completely dark world Emily had been in dissolved like smoke in the wind, and in the blink of an eye, she found herself back in the containment cell of the [Angel of Death]. The oppressive weight of that shadowy place still throbbed in her mind—but what exactly was that space? Emily had no clue.
Still, one thing became undeniably clear to her: the shadowy anomaly—rarely involved with humans and scarcely exchanging words—had somehow decided to help them. The reason? Emily had a hunch, since the anomaly itself had let slip its motive just moments ago.
For the moment, everyone seemed visibly okay—Emily, Laura, Rupert, and the visitors alike. The heavy silence hanging in the air made it clear that no one knew what to say. Finally, practically voicing everyone’s thoughts, Rupert broke the silence, furrowing his brow and glancing around with a confused expression: “What the hell just happened? There was a flash, and then... everything went completely dark”
Rupert’s gaze wandered through the room, eyes scanning faces as if trying to confirm something his mind refused to accept. The furrow in his brow and the tension in his expression left no doubt about his confusion. Then, in a low, almost hesitant tone, he murmured: “We... we’re alive?”
Emily, upon hearing Rupert’s questions, took a deep breath and calmly assessed the situation before her. In the end, after weighing every detail, she reached a single plausible conclusion: “It’s likely that the
didn’t manage to stop the accumulated energy from reaching a critical point in time” she said, her voice echoing through the space and instantly drawing everyone’s attention.
Resting one hand against her chin and staring ahead with a distant look, she continued in a thoughtful tone: “But, considering this place is still standing, I’d imagine that somehow the
managed to contain the explosion at the very last moment”
The moment Emily’s words echoed through the room, Rupert and Laura immediately understood what that critical point meant. Understanding it didn’t make the situation any less desperate, of course. From Emily’s perspective, however, the mere fact that the facility was still standing spoke volumes.
She had no idea how, but the [Angel of Death]—in some inexplicable way—seemed to have contained the explosion, as if bottling up a force that should have reduced everything to ashes.
Shaking off the strangeness of the moment, Emily’s gaze shifted to a more distant corner of the room. There, two beings of distinct appearances, yet with presences so commanding they seemed to shape the air itself, stood silently.
Their eyes were also fixed on the humans, though with different intentions: one wore a cold, indifferent expression, while the other radiated a subtle, almost hesitant curiosity, as if afraid to be noticed.
Emily, honestly, hadn’t interacted much with either of them. One, nearly impenetrable in posture, showed complete indifference and refused any form of cooperation, erecting an invisible wall around itself.
The other, recently arrived, radiated evident shyness, avoiding direct eye contact and choosing every word cautiously. Still, Emily felt it might be easier to establish dialogue with him, provided certain conditions—perhaps a bit of trust or a less oppressive environment—were met.
About three days had passed since the exhibition, and for such a short time, the events had been surprisingly significant. Thanks to the footage released—not only the standard shots but also those captured during the most critical moments—the number of people aware of the anomalies had grown considerably.
Even the most dangerous scenes from the exhibition’s closing were made public, with Emily’s own authorization. Why? Simple: she wanted to make it clear that the anomalies weren’t mere exotic curiosities, but real threats, capable of serious damage, especially when third parties interfere and compromise containment protocols.
Incidentally, our prime suspect from the attack that day had finally been apprehended and jailed. From what I could tell, he seemed genuinely remorseful for his actions—even though, in his own words, his hatred for anomalies hadn’t lessened at all, and honestly, I doubt it ever will.
Still, he admitted he understood that the people working with anomalies bore no blame for what happened; most of them had also lost family members to anomalies. The problem was that some anomalies simply cannot be destroyed. And for that reason, instead of letting them wander free, the best—and often only—course of action was containment.
The man seemed to grasp my meaning and, curiously, claimed he would study enough to find a way to eliminate all anomalies once he served his sentence. I’m not sure what to make of that... after all, I am an anomaly too—and frankly, I’m not sure if I should feel included or threatened by that promise.
Finally—but by no means least—I also said goodbye to the little girl. She was the same one I’d met at the diner during the Nyara incident. She promised she’d visit as soon as possible, but honestly, I doubt it’ll happen anytime soon. Emily would hardly approve another “exhibition” anytime soon... and it’s not like I could just wander around freely.
Returning to the exact moment of that anomaly’s detonation, Althea had never told me much about what happened. Honestly, the moment my vision was consumed by absolute white, I lost consciousness—just for a second—but something happened in that brief instant.
I can’t say what, but whatever it was, it allowed me to absorb that anomaly. What exactly occurred in that instant? I have no idea. And Althea... refuses to talk about it. Or rather, it wasn’t that she was refusing—my impression was that there wasn’t much to say. Still, something she revealed then left me confused... no, extremely confused.
When I asked what happened the exact moment I blacked out, her reply was as unexpected as it was unsettling: “Fufufu... I glimpsed, once again, the true essence of my dear sister. And it was... utterly dazzling!”
Putting aside the image of Althea saying this while her cheeks flushed and her gaze drifted into the void, as if reliving sacred memories from a distant past, what did she mean by “true essence”? Honestly, I had no clue.
To be frank, “essence” could mean so many things... But if I captured anything from her words, it was that in that single second I lost consciousness, something—a spark, an echo of who I was in the past—awakened within me.
Ironically, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened—but without a doubt, it was the first time with such magnitude. I mean... an explosion capable of wiping all life from the face of the Earth. Just imagining it sends a chill crawling down my spine—if my current body even still has one.
Gelatinous, fragile, only slightly tougher than a regular human... I can’t fathom how I’d survive something like that. Seriously... how strong was I before I lost my memories? The more questions arise, the more every part of me becomes an even greater mystery.
And it was precisely when my thoughts were in total chaos that something shifted. Not in the room, nor in the air—but within me. A faint, nearly forgotten vibration, like a whisper from the depths of my being, resonated silently.
It lacked the overwhelming force Nyara usually carried, like a storm delighting in destruction and creation simultaneously. No... this was different—serene, precise, as if every particle of this echo knew exactly where it should be.
It was deliberate. Intentional. As if every particle of existence rested exactly where it should, following an invisible, immutable order. Yet something was off—an alignment so absolute it felt unnatural, as if any slight rupture would be not just impossible, but intolerable.
My chest tightened—not from fear, but from... recognition. A memory that wasn’t image, nor sound, nor word—just a silent weight, a barely perceptible pressure deep in consciousness, like the instinctive certainty of standing before something that had always been there, even before I could name it.
For a moment, the weight on my body felt like standing before an invisible tribunal, surrounded by eyes that didn’t need to judge me... because they already knew the verdict. It was a silent, inevitable condemnation. I didn’t know who it was.
I didn’t know where it came from. But something deep, hidden in the cracks of my memory, whispered that I knew it—and that silent recognition was more unsettling than any memory.
Yet there was no face. No voice. Only that presence—cold, yet strangely familiar—with a subtle, ancient scent, as if it belonged to a memory I couldn’t reach.
It didn’t approach, nor retreat, it simply let itself be felt, enveloping me in dense silence. And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished. No sound, no trace... only the uncomfortable certainty that wherever it was, it also knew exactly where to find me.
Nekra’s eyes blinked slowly, almost deliberately, as her gaze shifted toward a specific direction. Moments before, she had sensed a presence—far too familiar to be mistaken. No matter the place or distance, Nekra would recognize it instantly.
That was precisely why her expression, already shadowed, tightened further, gaining a silent weight. Deep in her mind, a subtle, bitter thought surfaced, almost like a whisper: (A problematic someone... has arrived)
Nekra’s thought was answered almost instinctively, as if the reply had been waiting, lurking just beneath the surface, ready to reveal itself with a single breath. For a fleeting second, she felt as though the very weight of the air around her had reorganized into invisible lines, drawn with almost unnatural precision.
Every sound—the faint rustle of fabric, the distant drip of water, even the steady cadence of her own heartbeat—seemed to follow an exact, unchanging rhythm, as if the world were bound to a silent score. There was no chaos, no hesitation, only a harmony so precise it was unsettling, as if something beyond her were dictating the pace.
Then, in the next instant, a single thought was enough to dissipate that invisible “energy” surrounding Nekra, as though it had never existed. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though the tension in her expression remained.
With a narrowed, irritated gaze, she fixed her eyes in the direction of the presence, letting her thoughts—like a poisoned whisper—echo silently in her mind: (I really... hate you)
As she kept her eyes fixed on her dear sister, Althea blinked slowly, as if waking from a brief daydream, before letting her gaze drift to another corner of the room.
Then, tilting her head gently to the side, a mischievous smile began to form on her lips—a smile carrying an almost teasing tone, accompanied by a soft thought: (Fufufu... I was starting to wonder when you’d show up)
Floating gracefully on the soft flutter of delicate wings attached to her coccyx, Althea slowly spun until she was upside down. Her hair drifted in the air like a delicate veil, and her gaze, serene and full of affection, returned to her dear sister, Zentharys. Meanwhile, the playful smile on her lips remained, firm and unwavering, as if it had no intention of fading.
At the same time, another subtle thought crossed her mind: (Even if her sister hasn’t fully recovered all her memories yet, she’ll probably be fine. Even with “Her” acting the way she does, she wouldn’t seriously hurt her beloved sister...) As this idea took shape in her mind, Althea brought a finger to her lips, pressing them lightly in a thoughtful gesture: (probably)
For a moment, Nyara had the strange sensation that all the noise around her had receded, as if pulled away by invisible hands... or perhaps it was simply her, withdrawing into herself.
The air around her felt thicker, charged—not suffocatingly, but with an almost artificial precision. It was as if every particle had found its exact place, remaining still, obeying a silent order.
Like Nyara, her “Children” also shrank before the newly arrived presence. She interlaced her fingers in front of her body, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, yet enough to betray the discomfort she tried to suppress. Her gaze, slightly lowered, revealed her caution. Deep down, Nyara simply wished her presence would dissolve into the surroundings, like forgotten dust drifting in the wind.