Day by day

The air buzzed with unfulfilled potential as Dr. Ravenwood slumped in his chair, ruffling his feathered hair in frustration. Rows of lifeless pods loomed around him like silent judges. "Well, this calls for a celebration," he muttered dryly.

Dr. Isolde, perched nearby, smirked with all six eyes narrowed in amusement. “You signed up for this circus, featherbrain. Don’t act surprised now. You knew the Doll Soul Incarnate project was a lost cause.”

“It’s only a lost cause if you don’t care,” Ravenwood shot back, his wings twitching in irritation. “Unlike some people here.”

"Now, now, Isolde," Dr. Verdi interjected, his green ponytail bobbing as he stepped between them. "No need to tear into Ravenwood. He’s invested in this, unlike some people."

Isolde’s sneer deepened. "The spider takes the crown, not the crow."

“For the last time,” Ravenwood said through gritted teeth, “I’m a raven. Raven. Our feathers are not the same.” He gestured toward her "So are you a scorpion, because you also have eight legs."

Isolde leaned in, her voice dripping with venom. “Careful, birdbrain—”

“Enough!”

The voice cut through their bickering like a blade. Dr. Elwes stood at the edge of the room, her presence as commanding as the centuries she’d lived. Her piercing gaze silenced them instantly.

“Three hundred years,” she said, her voice heavy with the weight of failure. “Still no progress.”

Isolde snorted. “A new record, indeed.” 

The tension was thick, broken only by the soft hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of busy colleagues. Around the lab, scientists bustled, their movements efficient but hollow. 

Five generations have passed since the last major breakthrough. For most, this facility was nothing more than a gilded cage—a cushy retirement funded by the Kadohara legacy.

The project’s name—Doll Soul Incarnate—had become a mockery of itself. The last success, Subject 216, was centuries past, now the stuff of legend.

"Enough," Elwes said, her voice brooking no argument. "We persist, no matter how long it takes."

---------

The lab was silent when it happened. A loud, resonant thud shook the air.

Elwes’ head shot up, her usually stoic face tight with shock. "What… was that?"

The monitor flickered. Numbers surged, lighting up the screen. "Soul count… one hundred?!" Her voice cracked with bewilderment.

Ravenwood’s wings flared as he rushed to the soul collection chamber. His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him: porcelain shells, once lifeless, now glowing faintly. Cracks webbed across the smooth surfaces of the pods.

"Impossible," Isolde breathed, but her voice betrayed awe.

One by one, the dolls began to emerge. Delicate hands pushed against their shells, shattering them in bursts of light. Their movements were unsteady, like hatchlings breaking free from their shells for the first time.

The first to step forward was a tall doll with sleek white hair and mismatched eyes. She looked around, her voice trembling. “I… I remember being pushed onto a train. Am I in a hospital?”

Others followed, murmuring fragments of their last moments.

As the porcelain forms stirred, confusion gave way to grief and wonder. “I couldn’t breathe underwater…” one murmured. Another whispered, “Am I dead?” A third simply stared at their reflection in horror.

Lucy, a taller doll with short hair approached a seemingly unresponsive companion. "Ceci, right? I'm sorry I couldn't protect you." Ceci's hollow obsidian eyes remained unfazed.

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"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have explained it better", murmured Pomona, her disheveled form betraying her distress.

"There's nothing connected to my body anymore?" Sage asked, hope shimmering in his eyes as he observed his porcelain skin.

They examined their new forms—porcelain skin, fragile yet unyielding, and hollow, onyx pupils that reflected the sterile light of the lab.

Panic rippled through the room as reality sank in.

Echoes mashed together in the usual empty facility made the scientists caught off guard by the unusually large number of candidates.

Dr. Verdi leaned against the wall, his usual composure slipping. "A hundred souls? This isn’t just a breakthrough; this is a miracle."

 Ravenwood’s voice cut through the chaos, calm but firm. "Congratulations. You’ve been given a second chance. Welcome to Enlierau, your new home."

Verdi smirked, recovering his composure. "And as with all new homes, you’ll have to work to earn your place here. Trials will determine your survival. Your heart will determine your fate."

A hand shot up from the crowd of dolls. "How did we get here?" Another added, "What's going on?" A similar question, " Where did you take us?"

The crowd's confusion rose even more but Dr. Isolde replied, "Chance, mostly." eager to leave the room. Dismissing any more questions as the rest of the team leaves to find the appropriate steps when the research they painstakingly work for finally bore fruition.

Leaving the restless souls gather their own thoughts.

-------

Behind the scenes, the four researchers gathered in their office, poring over old manuals and protocols.

Isolde's lower eyes squint in disappointment "This is unprecedented, I didn't think I would actually start to work here!", her white coat now seemed to serve its purpose.

Ravenwood, by contrast, couldn’t contain his excitement. “Fifty years of stagnation,” he said, pacing the room. “And now this. It’s finally happening.”

Elwes, the oldest among them at 367, allowed herself a rare smile. She had been a student when the Doll Soul Incarnate project was in its prime, and now, centuries later, she was witnessing the birth of a new era.

Verdi, leaning casually against the wall, shrugged. “Let’s not pop the champagne yet. One hundred souls in dolls doesn’t mean they’ll survive the trials.” He couldn't care less, focused with his paycheck. But that doesn't mean he's not as talented as the three, he's just less passionate.

Elwes nodded. “Survival isn’t guaranteed. But this… this is the start we’ve been waiting for.”

After consulting the manual, they returned to the pods to find the dolls interacting with one another.

----

When the scientists left the room, an uneasy silence settled over the dolls. They exchanged glances, trying to piece together their situation.

“I…” Pomona’s voice broke the quiet first, though it trembled with uncertainty. “I think this is purgatory.” She looked down at her porcelain hands, the weight of her theory sinking in.

The dolls murmured amongst themselves, the word rippling through the group.

Blake stepped forward, his expression grim. “I agree.” He gestured toward the others, his onyx eyes scanning their faces. “But why do we all look so… similar?”

"Maybe,” Mimi piped up, her voice small but firm, “because appearances don’t matter here.” The short, stout doll crossed her arms, as if defying anyone to challenge her. “Our old lives in Aureline are gone. It’s our souls that count now.”

A ripple of unease spread through the crowd.

“Are those… Kadoharas?” Lucy’s voice cut through the murmur, sharp and commanding. She clutched Ceci tightly in her arms, her gaze fixed on the chamber’s mechanical design.

“Kadoharas?” Sage repeated, the name hanging on his tongue like a bitter aftertaste. He stiffened, memories of his demise flashing behind his hollow eyes. “So… they’ve finally come for us after everything.”

The mention of the Kadoharas—the gods of Aureline—sent a shiver through the group. They are worshipped and praised but also feared.

Before more questions could erupt, the chamber doors hissed open. Dr. Verdi returned, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he regarded the uneasy dolls.

“We’re not Kadoharas,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “But you could say we’re their messengers… of sorts.”

The room fell silent, his cryptic words leaving the dolls to wonder if salvation or suffering awaited them.

-----

The dolls were escorted to the synchronization chambers: sterile, glowing pods arranged in neat rows. The faint, pulsating hum of Gwydion—the substance said to contain the essence of life itself—filled the air.  

Dr. Elwes stepped forward, her tone calm but unyielding. “These chambers will determine your compatibility with this world. The stronger your will to live, the better your synchronization.”  

Dr. Isolde, perched behind her, leaned casually against a console, flipping through the project manual. “To clarify,” she said, her voice laced with mockery, “you’ll experience nightmares while fully awake. Enlierau is harsher than your old world, Aureline. But if you endure it, you’ll become stronger.”  

Ravenwood added, “The process takes three days. Each morning, you’ll enter the chambers. Each evening, you’ll return to your cells to reflect… and socialize.” His wings twitched with nervous anticipation as he watched the line of dolls.  

The group stood in uneasy silence, their minds racing.  

'Compatibility with this world?’

'Stronger? Survive?’

'Will to live?’

Sage’s voice broke the tension, loud and sharp. “What do you mean we’ll be in these chambers? Where exactly are we surviving? And what kind of place is this?”  

Mimi stepped forward, her porcelain features contorted with frustration. “You dragged us from one world to another, but all you’ve done is confuse us. What are you even trying to tell us?”  

Dr. Verdi’s smirk widened. “It’s to determine if you’re fit to live here,” he said, his tone scathing. “Were you not listening earlier? You’re Ethnolunarians from Aureline—deaf and incompetent, clearly.”  

Elwes shot Verdi a cold glare. “Enough,” she snapped before addressing the dolls again. “All of you died. Your lives ended abruptly, unfairly. This is your second chance. But to earn it, you must adapt to our world. The chambers will push your limits. You’ll suffer, yes—but if you endure, you’ll be reborn in Enlierau.”  

Her words were clear, but they did little to ease the fear spreading among the dolls. The weight of survival bore down on them, their shared suffering and confusion heavy in the air.  

Pomona stepped forward, trembling but resolute. “If this is my second chance,” she said quietly, “I won’t waste it.”  

The room watched in silence as she climbed into the pod. The chamber hissed shut, and a burst of energy surged through her. Her scream echoed through the sterile halls, a sound both haunting and defiant.  

Blake was next. His breath came in short gasps as he lay inside the pod, a chilling frost creeping through his body like an unforgiving tundra.  

Mimi followed, tears welling in her hollow eyes as her skin burned with unbearable heat. She clenched her fists, biting down on her lip to stop herself from crying out.  

Sage felt his heart constrict as if invisible chains wrapped around it, yet he welcomed the pain. “This,” he thought bitterly, “is still better than my death.”  

One by one, the dolls entered, each enduring their private agony.  

Lucy lingered at the edge of the chamber, holding Ceci’s limp form. She stroked Ceci’s hair gently, her voice breaking. “You still can’t hear me, even in this life, huh?” With great care, she guided Ceci into the pod before climbing into her own.  

As the synchronization chambers activated, the room was filled with a cacophony or muffled screams, echoing pain, and the hum of Gwydion. The scientists watched from the observation deck, their faces

betraying a mixture of anticipation and unease.

“Will they make it?” Ravenwood asked softly.

Elwes clasped her hands, her gaze steady. “They must.”