#ah................

The thought is pushed to the back of her mind and she pictures herself alone in a dark space. She wields a one-handed scythe and swings it at a projected target, the bone weapon ringing on impact. Fissures form on its surface. Momori hops back with a huff and gives the imperfect weapon an wary stare.

“Until we make the oath, I’m afraid that weapon is useless,” a low voice rumbles from the dark. Momori tips her head up.

“Come, now. I’ve killed with far worse,” she cooly replies, tossing the broken scythe away. “With a pencil, once.”

From the darkness, a small voidsent materializes. It’s a faceless, fleshy lump that’s more tail than body, suspended in the air on impossibly small wings. It floats to Momori’s shoulder.

“I-Isn’t that a bit excessive? I don’t remember training the scholars to kill with makeshift weapons,” the voidsent murmurs.

“I’m just joking. Of course I didn’t,” Momori says. After a pause, she continues. “A pencil is very brittle and thin. That simply adds to the challenge.”

If the voidsent had a face, it would frown at that. It’s hard to differentiate between when Momori is joking or simply recounting the truth in a grimly humorous manner. It’s tasteless either way.

“...Ahem. To speak on more pressing matters, dragging out our oath to the last minute is risky. If our transformation isn’t done by execution time, then we really could die,” the voidsent warns. “This is unlike you, Momori. You’ve never been the sentimental type, especially when this kind of risk is involved.”

“I think anyone would be hesitant. After the oath, you and I won’t exist in the same capacity that we do right now,” Momori says while taking a seat on the ground. “You told me it’s like blending colors. If I were red and you blue, then...the soul that results would be like violet. An expression of its parts but something wholly new.”

“Yes. That, but...not quite that.” The voidsent similarly drops to the ground, curled up on the floor like a cat. “We’ll form the inner voices of the new entity, so in a way, we’ll still exist. It’s just that we would no longer be able to directly influence the world.”

Momori snorts. “That’s even worse. I’ll have no one but you to keep me company while we drive blind.”

“Feh. The feeling is mutual,” the voidsent replies.

Awkwardly, they’re aware of how their goals are misaligned, meaning that both are prepared to fight for influence over their combined self. Momori is confident that she’ll win, and the voidsent begrudgingly thinks so too...but that doesn’t mean it won’t do its best to prevent disaster. This wordlessly hangs over their heads, anticipation manifesting as invisible pressure.

“Well. Enjoy these precious last moments, Momori,” the voidsent eventually says. “You can’t go back after the oath. Or, rather, this...instance of you can’t go back.”

The silence stretches, as boundless as the darkness that surrounds them. Momori hugs her knees to her chest.

“It was a good life,” Momori says.

“Do you mean that?”

Momori reconsiders the question carefully, and then laughs.

“No, but I would not change a moment of it,” she finally answers. The voidsent bumps against her thigh with its horn.

“Oftentimes, parents face extreme adversity in the hopes that their child will have a brighter future. In a way, what we’re about to do is the same. Our hopes and dreams will live on, and then, the best we can do is guide them.” The voidsent sounds a little sad. “...I know you love the Ashwoken, but I hope we don’t turn out that way.”

“His will, my hands,” Momori responds on instinct. “I’ll bring him back. And afterwards, you can...we bring back your version, too.”

The voidsent lets out a sigh. No matter how much it tries to convince Momori that she’s asking for the impossible, she won’t have it. That powerful will is going to be even more of a nightmare to deal with after the oath, but perhaps in time, she’ll come around. 

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there...together,” the voidsent finally says.

She rests a hand on top of the voidsent’s head and they sit there until the two of them blur into the darkness. The end of one cycle comes the start of another, but maybe this time, it won’t end in tragedy? All one can do is hope.

“Together?” Momori quietly echoes with a slight smile.