As the sun graced her skin, dull eyes that once shone with an iridescent sapphire luster opened. They didn’t resemble anything like those of her parents, nor anyone else's, but perhaps after a decade of combat, the only thing left in them was the icy bitterness of war. These set of scarred eyes, that blankly blinked in subliminal nothingness belonged to a young woman.

She was a person whose indifferent detachment made her seem like a lonely doll. In fact, she was merely a girl that looked like a doll, but for someone of her fledgling age, to bear those abyssal eyes and wicked scars without so much as a flaw in her emotionless expression.

It was nothing but cruel. One would even question if she were truly a doll made by some god for their twisted amusement.

The girl then tried to raise her body, but found herself held back by threads of resistance. Perhaps she didn’t understand, or maybe she did, but the sterile scent of her surroundings coupled with the faint humming of distant machines reminded her of something familiar.

Her eyelids slowly closed over themselves before unveiling away the curtain of darkness. Here, the world she existed in was white with no other color to be seen. She blinked again, and when they opened, the world rotated to reveal a tiled ceiling.

‘Who… am I?’

A breath left her lips and her mind refused to clear. It felt as though there was a dam barricaded in the center of her mind, blocking the stream of her consciousness from flowing smoothly. Her ears started to ring as well, her head reverberating with every thought that slammed into the barrier. It hurt to think and her subconsciousness deemed it not something of worth.

A fervent haziness began to fester around her eyes, the edges of her blurred vision rushing with darkness. Though just before she fell into the endless abyss, a flicker of movement was suddenly seen in the corner of her vision. A figure resembling a human neared her body and the girl couldn’t tell if it was someone old, or young.

All she saw was the syringe in the person’s hand, its tip gleaming with a shimmering liquid before it was jabbed into the side of her neck. The contents of the syringe was slammed into her blood stream, and the feeling of lethargy almost instantly knocked her out. It was all that the girl could do to hold on, hanging on to a thread of consciousness till the very end where the fading echoes of a whisper entered her ears.

“Cecillia, 19. No given surname. Operation survival rate, high.”

The flashing lights in her vision flickered off, and the warmth of the sun was swallowed up by the coldness of the night. The girl felt her head float through the softness beneath her neck and she enjoyed the pure bliss that came with the effects of the drug.

“Cecillia.”

Cecillia was who she was, and who she had always been.

****

[You have Thirty Two Pending Notifications! Would you like to vi—

Cecillia blinked away the boxes of blue light that appeared in her vision. Her sense of time was scattered affray, but she estimated that at least a week had passed, perhaps even more.

However, the fight with the Aberration was still fresh in her mind, but the last little bits felt hazy, like it were nothing but a dream. Thirty two notifications were a ton though, and the rewards for defeating such a foe had ought to be great. Yet, it wasn’t something she wanted to see at the moment. Especially not when her surroundings were filled with unfamiliarity.

Drawing a breath, Cecillia glanced around and found herself in a small room that was relatively towards the side of empty. It was seemingly nighttime, with the only source of lumination being the pale silver glow of the moon streaming through the window. On the far away opposite wall, a small picture of a yellow daisy hung slightly askew. It seemed rather… out of place, especially when all the walls of the room were painted bleach right. Her eyes only lingered on it for a moment longer before shifting to the corner where a lone mirror stood.

In the glass, Cecillia stared at her reflection—her image was seemingly foreign. With her now fragile flesh wrapped in a lengthy set of bandages, she knew… could even feel that whatever was beneath them was frail and thin. The skin on her face no longer held their color as well. The life in her cheeks had seeped away, leaving them sunken and paler than snow. And as for her eyes, they looked the same, yet there was a deferent change that she couldn’t quite place a finger on. Cecillia didn’t bother to pursue the difference; after all, losing her self of mind to her sense of self didn’t sound too enjoyable.

Instead, her gaze drifted over to her dark waves of hair that spilled over her shoulders, pausing on the ends where several inches of black had been scorched to a snowy white. Cecillia recalled how in the fight against the Entropic Aberration, how her body had imploded with mana with an unstoppable torrent of ice rushing out from every part of her core. With magic, she figured that the alteration in color wasn’t out of the norm, but the desire to see how they felt was still there.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Cecillia lifted her arm, simply reaching out with her fingers to run through the strands of hair. Though, she received emptiness and reached out again only to find out that the response could never be felt. She glanced down—breath catching in her tightening throat.

The bandages were still there, tightly wrapped around her shoulders and torso. A thin blanket covered her legs, but with a small wiggle they reassured her with a definite feeling that they still existed. But for her arms, only… there was nothing.

Her arms weren’t there anymore. Cecillia felt the urge to look for them but her mind snapped her neck immobile. There was no question about it.

Her arms were gone.

Cecillia swallowed down the bile in her throat and forced herself to remain calm. She had lost multiple limbs before, back on Earth, and she wasn’t a stranger to how it felt, it just… it really wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Life was difficult enough just waiting a month for something like a leg to regrow in a lab, attaching it on was even worse. But for a lifetime without access to her hands…

It certainly wasn’t impossible to continue living like this, but it was as if her fate had already been signed away.

Her quickening pulse started to slow and she released a hollow sigh. At least she had the time to catch her breath, let alone process the shock of it all. But just thinking proved to be a mistake, as losing her arms meant losing her hands. And if Cecillia had lost her hands, then she had lost her fingers.

Without any fingers—her shimmering eyes widened in panicked fear.

‘The ring…’

A silent, dreadful horror rippled through her mind. Her blood ran cold, frost forming on the edges of her skin while the air itself shivered. Cecillia tried to sit up, but without her arms she had no strength. Her eyes flailed about rapidly, straining to find the piece of jewelry.

‘No… please… no.’

Cecillia scanned the ground desperately, her gaze threatening to pierce through the ground to search in a hopeless attempt, all the while fully knowing that nothing could ever be hidden there. Her mind started to collapse, she had just accepted that her sister was gone for good, but at least there was something to remember her by. A ring that could travel beyond dimensions and worlds, it couldn’t be gone. It couldn’t…

Cecillia wanted to hide beneath the covers of the blanket, to wallow away from everything that could ever exist. But without her arms, it was a cruel fact that a simple task such as that was a solace that she would never be able to receive without the assistance of another.

‘Why… me?’

If it could be anyone else, then perhaps things could turn out alright. Cecillia pressed her chin into her chest, and the feeling of tears falling ebbed from her eyes. Though no liquid had escaped, and the hollow aching emptiness that had nearly ended her all those years ago pierced into her s—

[One soul point has been consumed.]

Then, the moon shifted, dipping behind the solitude of a single cumulus cloud. And in that moment of scattered light, a glint of a silvering shimmer flashed across her vision. The instincts of her war torn body overpowered her pitiful emotions and her head jolted to the side.

“Oh.”

Right next to the bed she lay in was a sturdy chair, and beside it a small wooden table. Doran’s blade, the same sword she used and shattered, was leaning on the edge of the table. Its soul, or whatever it was that had fueled her with strength had long disappeared and wherever it had gone, hopefully it had heard her thanks. But her eyes didn’t stay on the weapon much longer for besides the blade’s pommel, and next to the lamp light on the table was something she recognized immediately.

It was the necklace that Doran had offered her much earlier in the cave, which also doubled as a dimensional storage item, but Cecillia could care less about the valuable aspect that so many people desired. Her eyes filled with relief and a breath that she had not realized that she had been holding escaped out her lips.

Nestled within the silver curve of the necklace, was the ring she so sought. The same one that her sister had given to her all those years ago, and the one that she had lost.

“Doran…” Cecillia’s voice trembled weakly.

After she had fallen unconscious the man must’ve brought her here, and despite his own injuries he even went so far as to keep the ring safe for her. She didn’t know what to say. She wanted to thank him, but even that wouldn’t be enough. The words that derived from her feelings just couldn’t come up in her mind, and as she tried to think, she couldn’t stop her gaze from drifting about lazily in search of the words I never said.

“...Thank you, for everything.”

As the insufficient words of gratitude were whispered out, she caught sight of a folded letter lying on top of the table. It was unopened, waiting for a specific reader while it stared vacantly out the window for who knows how long. The paper was slightly wrinkled, but appeared untouched by anyone other than the gentle winds of Windhaven. And if anyone had already read the contents hidden within, they must’ve been incredibly skilled that they had not even so left a single print of a finger.

Yet the first line creaked out into her vision as if to say hello, and as Cecillia’s eyes glimpsed over the words, her heart froze.

Dear Cecillia,

Looking at it closer, she knew instinctively that it was definitely the same paper that the man had tried to give her during the horrid moments deep within the Tunnels of Kaust. Which only meant that the wrinkles were from her own fingers that she used to have.

Cecillia silently stared at the paper, not knowing whether to try and maneuver the letter towards her as best as she could, or wait for someone to help her. In the end, a quick minute passed before she glanced towards the door, assuring herself that she was indeed alone.

She scooted to the edge of the bed with her body, her unused muscles tingling with a pins and needle like pain. Cecillia ignored the discomforting feeling and clenched her teeth. She leaned forward, dipping her head down towards the table. And once she was close enough, she pinched the paper up with her lips and allowed it to carefully flutter down within her lap.

As she shifted her hips to straighten out the paper, several more untouched sheets slipped out from beyond the first. It seemed that Doran had left her with more words to say past the initial letter in the cave. Biting her lip softly, she nudged the letter open, shifting it in an awkward dance with her legs and hips. But as soon as her gaze fell upon the first line, her eyes widened in the essence of amazement.

The letters in ink seemed to glow with a faint ethereal light and Cecillia’s pupils trembled as the paper started to lift into the air, unfolding itself before her shimmering eyes.