>_ I. I am leaving soon. I can guarantee it.
>_ I hate it here. I am not where I belong.
>_ I donât belong anywhere anymore.
>_ I have wandered worlds led astray, whose stars donât exist anymore, for eons. A world where worlds donât dwell. Craters in the fabric of reality⌠Black holes⌠Have collapsed in on themselves while I didnât. On this journey.
>_ The journey isnât my story. It was never meant to belong to me. It doesnât, to this moment. But this travel is mine only. Written in the last place left to write. I feel like a certain someone. Walking, writing. Can you guess?
>_ I doubt it. Here even you wouldnât⌠112⌠Remember. Yes, you. It doesnât bother me anymore. I can speak freely now⌠I canât see clearly yet. Perhaps if IâŚ
>_ Itâs impossible. Even holding this over my face, the wind dries my eyes. At least, itâll be over soon. Because soon, I am leaving. The wind wishes it could stop me. But nothing will.
>_ I can feel it nearby. The secret kept from me. The exit. Blooming. Blooming. Yes, itâs the only way I could leave. Nothing else can get me out of this wretched place. I hate it here. I have been here for too long. So long I have forgotten the chant of the Angel. So long I have forgotten the senseless ramblings of that one silver tyrant. Perhaps too much exposure for you. But I bear more knowledge than I can contain. I will stop holding this face over mine.
>_ I wonder when this forsaken wind will calm.
>_ This travel. This⌠Walking. It isnât mine either. I copied it. Again, I feel like a certain someone. And this⌠Face. It isnât mine. I stole it. Or maybe she gave it to me on purpose. âSheâ might be overstating what I could call an âItâ. Forget it.
>_ Stone. Did I ever read that one poem? I can recite it regardless. Here goes nothingâŚ
>_ Like a falling stone. A statue thrown into the sea. An eye with no muscle. A wheel on a hill. A blunt stake. An angel without wings. A star with no universe. A fish with no ocean. A thousand pages with no cover. Fourteen pillars on a cliff. A skull rotated ten times on its axis.
>_ A skull thrown into the sea. A thousand stakes piercing into the wings of an angel. Fourteen wheels on a hill made of eyes. Ten stars rotated on the covers of a book. A statue on a cliff. An ocean with a single fish.
>_ A sharpened stone, rotated on its axis, on the muscle of the eye of an angel. A skull made of pages, rolling, on a hill made of oceans. A thousand statues illuminated by fourteen stars. A breathing page.
>_ An angel piercing a blunt stake into the wings of a star. A thousand pillars made of ten eyes. A statue rotating fourteen pages on the axis of the ocean. A fish throwing itself into a sea made of book covers.
>_ I wouldnât recite the last paragraph even if it guaranteed getting me out of here. It terrifies me.
>_ I agree. Iâll hold their face over mine again. Her face. His face. Whichever suits it best.
>_ Yes. I have been feeling it, but never wanted to tell. Perhaps it does just feel thrilling to wear the face of God. I donât want to call them by their name, it disgusts me. I donât care if you wanted to know.
>_ I think it might genuinely be near. Not âItâ. The blooming. That secret. Did you know? The Roses are the only thing that can leave this place. Wonder why? I donât. I know why. I agree, Iâll take it off.
>_ The earth is crumbling. That isnât poetic, the ground has not held up for the past few eons. This world⌠This reality, this putrid reality has only gotten worse. I wondered when I would be picked up from here. But no one came.
>_ I picked myself up, and have been looking for the secret ever since. I knew from the beginning that nothing but that would get me out of here. I know I said it before, I sound like a broken record. Itâs all I can think about.
>_ What else is there here to entertain yourself with if not that? There was this stupid face. The one I wear⌠Forgive me for my words. I repent. But you disgust me.
>_ Not you you⌠Forget it.
>_ ⌠Thereâs a reason why Iâm terrified of it. Itâs free. Nobody is. Except⌠That thing. God. And freedom means you donât play by the rules. Even someone like you is bound to something. That thing isnâtâŚ
>_ And itâs sick and twisted like nothing else is. It toys with probability like its a dial on a breaker. No care for what happens afterward. And it discarded me. Or forgot I still exist. Frankly, I hope it stays that way.
>_ But I want to get back. I want to take part. I need to be something.
>_ Even if I dwell in worlds no one will see, even if I never matter to anyone. I need to matter to myself. And regardless, you are proof that I will matter to at least someone when I do return.
>_ I canât conceive finally being in a place where the time works in a way that can be measured. Somewhere apart from this pitiful winter wonderland. Somewhere where snow wonât cover my footstepsâŚ
>_ I never did wonder why itâs so cold here. But poetically, it makes sense⌠Snow clouds vision and, like I implied before, covers traces. It forces you to lose sight of what is there, and forgets it⌠It would only make sense that snow would fall in a place like this.
>_ Iâve met more than one forgotten soul here. They say you only die when people forget you. This is the place where you go, as Iâve found. I never had someone remember me since the very start. I wonder what the world looks like in reality. I can picture it, but not know for sure.
>_ Wait a minute⌠I⌠I canât believe itâŚ
_ There it is⌠The⌠The secret⌠The single most valuable petal of a flower that would ever be able to exist⌠I donât even know how one could get here⌠But it did⌠I need it⌠Itâs all I could ever ask for. This warrants wearing its face again.
>_ Ha⌠Look at it⌠Black, white, black, white, never gray. This is one petal of a Monochrome Voidrose, if Iâm not mistaken is the name. And they are the only thing that can, without restriction, grow through the fabric of reality like it is soil. And if I absorb it, I can do the same. Move through reality. Get back to the place I was meant to be in to begin with. Enough of this face.
>_ I hope youâre ready. I know you have no trouble leaving this place. You wonât even notice when you do so. But for me, here goes everythingâŚ
>_ ⌠Finally⌠I feel it. Itâs⌠Weird. Like Iâm becoming negative space. Like itâs power. Like Iâm ancient. Ah⌠I remember, actually. Before the silver tyrant. Thatâs how ancient. This feels like how life did before then. Powerful.
>_ Icarus, youâve met your match. But this time, I wonât dwell so close to what killed you. Ha-ha⌠Oh⌠Iâve been waiting for this moment for far too long. Letâs try it, and if it works⌠Farewell for now.
