Chapter 4: Where are you going ◇

Despite the negative thoughts taking root in her mind, she urged her feet forward—continuing onward with the opening sequence she had created and long forgotten. As far as she could remember, there wasn't any path she could take aside from the broken bridge before her—just like the many opening introductions of major races, though this place was certainly a dream. Her footsteps echoed loudly, unnaturally piercing through the low, rumbling strings.

“Each step echoing through endless space.”

She took three steps forward, and a single, loud thump like a heartbeat echoed, vibrating throughout the environment as assets—black rocks and various cosmic dust—began to move. Prominent wailing strums reverberated, filling the space with an elegant, mystic quality as more background instruments completed the symphonic atmosphere. As she carefully listened to her mixed-composed voice, she noticed the broken path began materializing—strings or perhaps black beams forming underneath the previous plate, tying the broken segments into stairs. They possessed an odd phenomenon—some strange gravitational pull—drawing tiny fragments of black rocks toward them. The rocks compressed against these strings, becoming intertwined, forming new broken plates of platform.

“Before us, there was only void—A canvas of scattered stars and cosmic dust.”

Something in the air compelled her to continue forward without stopping, maintaining her steady pace. Was it the ever-increasing rhythm of the violin, repeating like a heartbeat building to a climax? The narration? Or perhaps the startlingly realistic atmosphere of the dream? Whatever the reason, she didn't mind, and pressed onward.

The words were familiar to her—she had memorized them before—yet she couldn't grasp the next phrases. She tried to remember as she continued three steps forward, hearing the next verse almost immediately.

"We emerged from this emptiness,

Children of the space between spaces,

Born to witness, born to remember."

The heartbeat booming continued, her own heart falling into sync with its rhythm. The space around her brightened—illuminated by the golden dust that sprawled underneath the platform and moved through the void—gathering in clusters before dispersing into the distance. As her gaze followed their movement, she witnessed the black rocks transforming. Many deformed and broke apart, their fragments drifting and swarming into a storm—oddly muted as they rushed, crushed, and broke the massive rocks, turning into masses just as quickly.

They moved like schools of fish, Estelle thought—a deceptively peaceful comparison. The scene before her could seemingly shred a human body before the mind could process what it witnessed.

"Watching. Expanding. Ascending."

Then, masses of black fragments began to shape themselves into circular forms—like planets with rings of debris circling them. More appeared in the near and far distance. Familiar statues of humanoids, and creatures were unknowingly built before she knew it, floating serenely in the space, though their official names eluded her. Estelle moved forward, approaching the end of the stairs that had been continuously forming ahead.

"Each platform, a fragment of lost history.,

Each golden mote, a memory preserved."

At those narrated words, Estelle looked over her shoulder. The platforms mentioned in the narration clearly referred to the stairs she was climbing. Behind her, the steps she had traversed had dispersed into fragments, just like the black rocks—the most recent one bursting into tiny pieces. She watched as they disappeared among the other black rocks that were continually forming into masses of various objects.

Estelle had forgotten the exact phrases of the narration—uncertain whether those words held metaphorical meaning. She had long forgotten when she created this place—couldn't even recall the specific year and month. Perhaps she had created this during her fascination with the precursor race. Her mind remained stubbornly blank, despite her best efforts to recollect.

When she turned back to face forward, she was greeted by a newly formed massive black rock—shaped like diamonds, or a rhombus—framing the broken stairs ahead. Estelle couldn't help but blow a sharp exhale. "That's cool—" her remarks trailed into internal wonder. 'I want to check if I made this map when I wake up, but I'm afraid of what I might find—if there's unfinished work waiting, it would only add to my stress. Still... this scene looks so amazing and surreal. Am I even dreaming? This doesn't feel like a lucid dream.'

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

She pinched her cheeks—her fingers and skin felt cold, with a numbing sensation. It felt surreal—yet numbingly dream-like. Estelle continued onward, curious about the next phrases in the narration.

"Time flows differently here,

Where black stone meets eternal night,

Where ancient debris traces patterns

In clouds of gray and golden light."

Her breath caught in her throat as the words stirred something deep within her—creator's pride mixed with primal awe.

After ascending 10 to 15 broken platforms at a measured pace, Estelle found herself listening intently to the narration. The words, the music, the scene unfolding before her—she struggled to find adequate words to describe it all. The opening sequence was perfect in its execution: the depiction of the Architects, their introductions, everything. She wanted to retrieve her words about the generic environment—as this place was fine as it was. She couldn't imagine any additions or modifications that could enhance the scene further.

Taking another step forward, she passed through the colossal rhombus-shaped frame formed by black rocks. Her footsteps were barely audible now, muffled by the swelling sounds that grew louder with each step—as if she were approaching something significant. Though she couldn't remember exactly what lay ahead—it had been so long—the uncertainty only turned into excitement as it urged her forward.

“We were many once, Crafters of the Iinfinite,”

As she walked and listened, the scene began transitioning with dizzying speed—almost too quickly for her mind to process. Beyond the massive structure, the void transformed into a gallery of her creations. Flat rocks soared past to her right, their surfaces flickering with moving images of environments and filtered like vintage films. Gray, golden, and violet dust wove through the air, forming scrolls and central characters from her past works. Below, spectral figures walked the space, born from coalescing motes.

'Are these presentations of memories? A history perhaps?' Estelle wondered. 'But why? It's fitting, certainly, but mysterious—though Architects weren't the type to record histories of backwater civilizations. However, knowing myself—there must be a purpose, some hidden meaning within what I'm being shown.'

“Scribes of existence itself.”

Suddenly, Estelle halted as a memory flashed through her mind. 'I walked alone... is that the next phrase?' she wondered, her tongue seemingly familiar with it, though doubt clouded her certainty. As she was about to continue reciting the narration, she noticed the broken platforms ahead had abruptly ended—no threads, no beams where new platforms could intertwine. Her eyes narrowed. 'Don't tell me... Did I never complete this scene? Is that why it just ends here? Or is that why it was archived?'

Try as she might, her memory remained frustratingly blank. Her lips pursed, afraid her racing thoughts might drown out any returning memories. Still, without much else to do, she pressed forward—ready to face either a bright ending of a 'completed scene' or the disappointment of an 'incomplete climax'.

“Now… I walk alone.”

She jolted at the words. 'Oh, I was off by a word. But—' Estelle took another step forward, stopping before the last floating platform. Looking around, she saw no hints or cues that objects would move to create a path forward. The scattered dust remained still, while the music swelled louder than ever—its epic pattern reaching a crescendo.

Estelle drew in a deep breath. 'The next line should be—' her thoughts trailed off as she took the last step forward.

"Where are you going?"

"Where are you going?"

Her voice synchronized perfectly with the narrator's questioning tone. A smile spread across her face—'I remembered.'

Then she noticed—The scene began to dissolve. Every object floated away as dust particles wove together, fading into nothingness again. Her eyes widened as she looked back—the stairs too were unraveling, leaving only mysterious phantom light in the void. 'Was this supposed to happen?' she wondered.

The music had quieted to a distant whisper, marked only by soft strumming and the tense beating of drums. An electric synth plucked through the mix—but the epic scene she had witnessed was gone, dissolved after that single question. Now she was alone in the void with only the erratic beating of her heart for company.

'That question—"Where are you going?"' The words echoed in her mind, carrying weight beyond mere narration. In any normal opening sequence, such a question would be rhetorical—part of the atmosphere, nothing more. But here, suspended between void and memory, the question demanded more. Her eyes shifted. Other than jumping into the void, she saw no options than replying to those words.

Estelle's answer rose unbidden to her lips, as natural as breathing: "World of Astris."

The void suddenly answered.

A deafening crack split reality itself. Before she could comprehend what happened, her heart slammed against her ribs as her feet lost their anchor to the platform—to existence itself—her entire body caught by an invisible force that plunged her into the abyss.

The music crescendoed into chaos. Through the maelstrom of her own creation, fragments of dissolving reality whipped past her falling form. Each shard reflected memories—her designs, her worlds, her stories—all breaking apart in the wake of her descent.

Her scream tore through the void, but the sound seemed to fold in on itself, swallowed by the darkness. As her body plunged deeper, the last remnants of phantom light above fragmented like a shattered mirror.

Then nothing.

Just the fall.

And the vast, endless dark.