A cosmic sleep. A slumber measured not in moments but in epochs so vast that human comprehension would falter.

I had become it—a being of boundless power, capable of ultimate destruction. And yet, in equal measure, I was lesser than the humblest statue: an existence that teetered on the edge of awareness and brokenness, embraced by a paradoxical absence of purpose. Everything drowned in it—the nothingness, the sea of endless void.

Nothing and no one.

Nothing and nowhere.

Nothing and never.

...Until it happened.

At first, it was faint. A sound, unlike my voice, unlike the echo of my thoughts that had served as my only companions in this endless blank canvas. The mere notion of something else existing struck a chord in me that I had thought lost to time.

It was real.

Desperation and curiosity clawed at my shattered mind. Wrapping my focus tightly around this anomaly, I willed myself to sharpen. To listen. To grasp.

And then it hit me—a revelation like a tidal wave crashing against a brittle cliff. I had regained control over my body. For the first time in eons. Could I muster the strength to open my eyes? To truly see and hear?

“WOAAH!”

The voice, high-pitched and sweet, filled an unfamiliar atmosphere. Atmosphere? Could such a thing exist in this void?

“What are you doing here, mister?” the voice asked, a curious tone laced within its melody.

Companionship. The thought of it slipping away because of my silence terrified me. It was a sharper fear than the day I saw my home swallowed by my uncontrollable self. I couldn’t lose this chance—not now. I had to act, had to respond. My determination surged, and with it, I burst out of my mental paralysis. I forced open my eyes and ears, awakening to a world that I’d long forgotten.

THE FIRST SIGHT

Light. Blinding, yet soft. My eyes stung, unfamiliar liquid pooling around them. Blurred shapes began to take form, and for the first time in countless ages, I saw.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

A washed yellow-gray surrounded me, familiar yet alien. It took a moment to remember. Colors. Yes, I had seen these before. My mind fought to grasp the words—to name these sensations that felt so distant.

Rocks.

Yes, rocks. I was lying on something rough and solid. The tough feeling beneath my hands and body confirmed it. My breath hitched as I tried to take in more. My gaze shifted upward to a ceiling, not of open sky but of crumbling, jagged stone.

Ruins.

That was the word. Ruins. My memory stuttered to life, naming the fractured architecture surrounding me.

And then my eyes lowered to her.

A young girl. A real, living person stood before me. My mind faltered, caught between disbelief and awe. She had two normal ears and two cat-like perched atop her head. Her hair, scarlet all around had a strand of blonde that covered her right eye. The name for when the eyes are coloured differently—I forgot it, but she had it. The eye behind the hair was blue, and the other was green. As I study her a little more I witness a long, swishing tail behind her and a glint of sharp black nails, claw-like on her frail, small hands. Her bright, curious eyes fixed on me with a mixture of concern and excitement.

“What are you?”

The words spilled from me, raw and desperate, my voice unpracticed but clear. It felt foreign, speaking to another after so long. But it felt... right.

“Hm? Are you asking for Ryna’s name, mister?” she replied between sharp teeth, tilting her head.

“Ryna?”

“Yes! Ryna’s name is Ryna!” she chirped, her tail wagging with enthusiasm.

Her name echoed in my mind. The first name I had spoken to in eons. I latched onto it like a lifeline.

“Ryna... what is this place? Where am I? And—if you don’t mind—what are you? Your tail, your ears... I’ve never seen anyone like you before.” My voice quivered, the flood of questions barely restrained by my longing to prolong this dialogue.

Ryna blinked, her expression turning puzzled. “Mister doesn’t know about Ryna’s world?”

I chuckled softly in my mind. Wasn’t I the one asking the questions here? I pushed forward, my honesty bared. “No, Ryna, I don’t know much of anything, actually.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up with understanding. “Ryna is a girl!”

“Yes, Ryna, I can see that,” I replied, a wry amusement rising within me. “But what kind? I’ve heard in tales, something like your kind... cat-people, I think?”

Her tail swished again, this time with pride. “Ah! Ryna and her friends are nekojin, mister!”

Nekojin. The word felt strange on my tongue, yet it carried a certain rhythm. I nodded slowly, as if repeating it to myself would engrave it deeper in my memory.

She continued, her ears twitching as she observed me curiously. “Mister is strange. Where did you come from?”

The question struck a chord, and I hesitated. Where had I come from? How could I possibly explain the endless void, the eons of nothingness, the unbearable weight of being?

Ryna waited patiently, her curious eyes unwavering. She didn’t look away, didn’t retreat from the strange entity before her. For the first time in ages, I felt a glimmer of something I thought I’d lost forever.

Hope.