A metaphorical locked door appeared before Jury.

It silently screamed “Please open me!”

It was a relatively normal walnut door with a bitter yet sweet odor that could be smelt from several meters away.

Jury had suddenly found herself standing in a barren hallway. Ahead was this door and when she turned back, she found nothing but an endless corridor behind.

She took several steps back, trying to acclimatize herself to the strange world. Those steps taken did not distance her from the door. Rather, they seemed to draw her nearer.

The walls rose higher than the eye could see. A fragrant light shone from above. It was ethereal, carrying dream-like qualities. It confirmed that she was, for the nth time, taken aboard for a whimsical ride in her mind.

Jury dreamed like no other. Her dreams were violently visceral. Vivid, and she was always lucid within them, just without the control that usual accompanied such dreams. In a way, her dreams were always a lucid nightmare due to this, but she adored them, because they always did tend to reflect her desires.

Her imagination was powerful, honed after years of nothing but living in her lonely Black Forest. So it came as a shock to her when she found herself in this place all of a sudden.

This isn’t the Eternal Library. A doorway to what? My mind? My past?”

The latter seemed likely. Jury remained hung on the thought, expecting the input of a familiar, monotone companion. But in here, she was reminded of her loneliness as seconds of silents elapsed, feeling like hours to her.

Nav is also going through something. Everyone is.

Jury wasn’t someone who backed off easily. She was headstrong, steadfast, and conducted herself with a smile. But it was different here. A part of her dreaded finding out who or what she was, but at the same time…

I want to know what’s in there. I have to know. It’s not like I can run away from here.

Jury tested walking backwards again, only to find that the door had inched closer after blinking. A sudden thought invaded her mind as she took a step forward, reading out the name written in a language she should not have been able to decipher.

‘Elysia’. Who or what did I represent in the story of the Black Forest? What happened to me for the last 14 years prior? I have to know why the White Wing looked so angry. Did I do something wrong?

Her hand grasped onto the round door handle, and she stared into her distorted reflection along its silver coating.

Frost. I hope you’re also doing ok wherever you are. I’m sure… you’re also thinking the same thing about us. Mm.

“My name is Jury.” She affirmed.

And with a single twist, she barged into the door and stepped into a world of darkness.

Then, there was light.

* * *

In a magical garden found within the ruins of an industrial complex, a little girl with tiny wings reached out towards a woman with pale hair and golden eyes, and a tall man with black hair and red eyes.

The woman was unmistakably the White Wing. Gabriella. And the man was…

Jury, seeing through the eyes of the little girl, could not remember this person’s name. It was Frost of course. Anyone could tell just from the face alone. What Jury didn’t know what this version of Frost’s name.

Suddenly, Jury cutely pouted.

“My name is… my name is…!”

“She doesn’t have a name?” Frost wondered, speaking to no one but himself. “… right. You’re not here anymore, huh. Hey. Are you ok?” He leveled himself with the tiny Jury’s height.

He wielded an aura of superiority, but he cut through it with his overly friendly conduct.

“The fire didn’t touch you or anything, did it?” He added as the little Jury shook her head, saying ‘no’. Or so she thought. As it turned out, the little Jury didn’t know many words at all.

Just like herself inside of the Black Forest. Looking around, she saw the white forest Frost had saved her in a previous memory burn to cinders. Only the blackened trees remained in this magical, luscious garden.

“Still hearing Lailah’s voice again? Or are you mentally ill after spending your ‘upbringing’ this city? Children of the City tend to become insane from your parts.” Gabriella jabbed, joining Frost as she crouched, squinting at Jury.

The little Jury suddenly took cover behind Frost’s shoulder, shyly peeking at the White Wing.

“A bit of both. Can’t say you’re any better. And don’t scare her! Don’t bring your murderous intent down here.”

“You think I can help it? What if she’s a Faux Angel like the black blob that ate all her sisters? She’s practically the last of our kind.”

“Meaning she’s not a Faux Angel. Seriously… how did one even end up in here?” Frost was baffled, but he was far more concerned about the wellbeing of the child.

“You saw the state of this place? Lucky for you I was available. I’m not even supposed to be down here. Michaela will pluck one of my wings if she also knew I entered the 20 meter zone of avoidance around you.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“But you did the right thing, no?” Frost sighed as Jury began to sniffle. “Hey. It’s ok. It’s… that’s right. Lailah’s not around to remove her memories.”

The White Wing sounds different here. She’s more… vibrant. Less intimidating. Did time change her or did something happen?

Jury wanted to smile. Seeing them both so carefree, yet equally as serious was endearing to her. Likewise, the caring Frost she loved hadn’t changed at all, and it gave her hope that her past self was the same.

“Believe me, physical trauma to the lateral part of the cranium is equally as sufficient.” Gabriella pulled out a tiny, pale baton from thin air.

“Lateral is too dangerous. Skull’s too thin there. You risk rupturing a pretty dangerous blood vessel. Dorsal is the best option – but forget that! Look! You’re scaring her!”

… Frost… still has her – his medical knowledge. But I don’t get why his eyes are red. They were brown when we first met. Strange…

“Name…?” Jury trembled, grasping onto Frost’s arm.

“How annoying. Her meek voice sounds like a squeaky trumpet. Raphy or Trumpet Bearer would be a good name. She’s got one tail too.”

“Meaning?” Frost cocked his head.

“She’s weak. Not really fit to join us, but I think Michaela will make an exception considering she’s likely the last of our kind. Take a good look around. This place is… out of commission. I hope you also weren’t reminded too heavily of your past here.”

“I thankfully don’t remember much. Largely thanks to Lailah. Besides…” Frost turned to the young Jury with solemn eyes. “… you poor thing. Everyone she knew and loved is gone. Angels live for a long time. Do you remember much when you were born?”

“Hardly. I don’t keep track of every little thing like humans do. You should break that habit. No point playing mimicry. Not like you’re actually a human.”

Suddenly, Frost cupped Jury’s ears as his eyes suddenly glowed with fury.

“… you can be really fucking rude, you know that?”

“A-ah… That’s my fault. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like it’s a bad thing. It’s just the nature of living a long life. Clinging onto every moment, whether happiest or sad becomes cumbersome. Humans tend to live for a hundred years, so memories are precious to them. Their time is fleeting. Ours… is eternal.”

… mature. She looks saddened saying that. ‘Mimicry…’ that tipped Frost off. But I don’t understand. I thought this memory was supposed to be about me. So does it seem so focused on Frost and the White Wing?

“Name?” Jury asked again.

“Got a good name for her? She seems awfully attached to you. A given for an Angel.” Gabriella said, reaching out to touch Jury’s head.

Jury winced, unsure if she was going to harm her. However, she was pleasantly surprised to feel the motherly strokes along her pale hair.

To think she used to be like this…

Suddenly, Frost answered after a short moment of thought.

“Elysia.”

“Elysia? As in a shortened form of Elysian Fields?”

“Sort of. I’m thinking something more along the lines of paradise considering this was where she was born.”

“So why am I not called Elysia?”

“Do you want to be called Elysia?” Frost sighed, fixing the buttons of his military garbs.

“It sounds tacky. But it’s not bad. Meaning paradise, hm. Wouldn’t finding a place like that be nice, little Elysia~?” The White Wing grinned.

“… Elysia. Elysia!” Jury exclaimed, her eyes becoming moist. It was unclear if she understood the meaning of her name or was just repeating words for the sake of trying to convey her sadness given that she had lost everything.

“No child should grieve. But that’s the kind of world we live in. Now to get her out of here. This place is going to be under Michaela’s control again. For good this time. Elysia. C’mon. Let’s go.”

“Home?”

“It’s… Your new home. I’m sorry. You won’t be able to see this place again.” Frost found it difficult to speak afterwards. After the rampage of the Faux Angel, Frost had burnt down the forest she was born in.

An entire section of this paradise was left as a charred, black forest of dead trees. The unrecovered bodies of the many Angels were left behind. The scenery reminded her of the Black Forest, but not enough to link it with the concept of the Hung Juries.

The Innocent on the otherhand were easier to draw connections with.

That being said, the world faded to black again, and when she came to she found herself within another corridor with a closed door ahead. This time, the door had pictures. Pictures of what she could only describe as her happiest moments.

I don’t recognize anyone except for the people I’ve seen in the present. The White Wing. Frost. The Archivist… and who… is this person?

Jury was intrigued by the picture of a woman with golden eyes and short, blue hair.

The name written in red underneath the polaroid was ‘Lailah’, and the image depicted them bearing a gargantuan, fiery blade.

* * *

Jury remembered the sadness in those moments. She lost many loved ones to the beast that terrorized her home. Frost was compassionate enough to understand her misery, and she recalled many nights spent living with Frost to try to gain her bearings in this world she once called home.

But her upbringing did not solely revolve around Frost. In fact, Frost was rarely ever in the picture from what she could remember. They were two worlds apart, brought together by circumstances and a shared dream to save their dying world.

She was suspended in darkness. And from within, she heard a feminine voice speak to her.

“If there’s one thing you shouldn’t touch, it’s the light. It has wish-granting properties, for simplicity’s sake. For Angels, it can fundamentally change the world as we know it. The world, and ourselves.”

“What does it look like!?” Jury asked with enthusiasm.

“Your sincerest desire. We originate from that same light. Everything does. Thus, we must never taint it.” The feminine voice answered.

“Hypothetically speaking, what would happen if it did get tainted!? Or if we let a Faux Angel get to it!?” Jury cried.

“I’d rather not try to think of how much of an existential crisis that would devolve into. Everything that has the smallest, most insignificant semblance of life would fall victim to it. That’s the nature of it.”

… this person is the Arbiter, isn’t it? She doesn’t sound like the White Wing at all.

“So why are we given so much freedom if that’s the case?” Jury asked a sensible question.

“Freedom? No one is given as much freedom as you. It’s what he wishes, and I will respect it. That’s why I am warning you, Elysia, to maintain your distance with him. To stay away from the gardens beneath. To resist the urge of taking hold of GEN-00.”

“Angels can’t be with humans, right?” Jury did not seem to understand what was so special about Frost.

In her eyes, Frost was just a regular human.

“Angels can’t indulge because we of all things would never know when to stop. Like you and food. There used to be more like us before they lost their wings and became those creatures we call Demons, indulging in their vices.”

Suddenly, she felt someone place a hand onto her cheek. She couldn’t see who, but this warmth was familiar to her.

Demons… were in this world too.

Then, the woman sincerely whispered.

“Elysia. I would hate to put you down. You’re my personal trumpet. A gift. To see at least one Angel able to spread their wings like you gives me hope that we may be able to restore this world.”

“Only the best!” Elysia laughed.

“Precisely. I enjoy that energy. Therefore, I’d hate for you to become so miserable. A one tailed Angel can only do so much. But you’re incredibly capable. Please… no matter what happens, heed my words:”

An Angel with seven tails leaned forward into the light and pulled Jury into a pleasant embrace. Her pale garbs were soaked in blood, whereas Jury’s were pristine. Her warm breath fell upon her ears as the Arbiter then whispered her more sincere words of caution:

“You must not fall for its temptation.”

… what was my relationship with her? We seem so close. I wonder if I was like this with everyone. ‘Elysia’ is a name the White Wing used to love. Now, she despises it.

Jury didn’t know what to think. But she could already tell that something went terribly wrong.

I did the deed, didn’t I?