Part 2.
Chapter 1
Sasha. 5 years BA.
ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.
Pain… stopped.
Chaos has done this before, of course. He has to. If he never lets me remember that pain can stop, his favorite tortures lose their edge. He keeps just enough of that memory alive—faint, fragile—so he can rip it away.
But this time, it lingers.
It’s strange. Chaos must’ve prepared something new. Something special. He always does. No matter. I am not in pain. I let myself feel it, etch it into the deepest corners of my essence. Moments without pain are rare. I will remember this as long as I can, before Chaos tears it apart from me. And then some.
It lingers still. Too long.
Where is he? He is always here. Chaos is here. His presence alone hurts. He presses into every edge of me—breaks, suffocates, fills. But now? Nothing.
That has never happened before.
Could he—?
I try to destroy myself.
Of course, it doesn’t work. It never does. Chaos never allows it. He hates me too much to let me annihilate. He will break me, rend me apart into dust, but he never lets me disappear completely. He always leaves enough to rebuild, enough to suffer.
But this… this feels different. It’s not the same impenetrable wall that halts me every time I try. It’s—
A net.
Energy wraps around me and holds me in place. I feel it, intricately woven, tethered to my essence.
This is an illusory reality, then. Of course.
Here, I have a body. Chaos used to love these games—give me a body, make me fight, make me tear myself apart. I thought he’d grown bored of the ones with bodies long ago. Apparently not.
The net binds my will and my ability to shape energy. I see his constructs. Shapes in the space around me. Watching. Waiting. They are stronger than most I’ve fought. More solid. The space itself is intricate; matter and energy connected and woven in impossible patterns.
Chaos outdid himself this time.
I try to break free. I pull at the net, wrenching against the fibers, though it scrapes against my very essence. Pain flares, sharp and precise. It hurts, but that’s familiar. Pain is known. I know what to do with pain. I fight harder.
The net trembles. I am stronger. I will tear this illusion apart. Maybe I can stop it before he make the move this time. I almost—
And then—
Visions flood in.
----
A stage. Warm lights. I sing. Applause crashing like waves. Faces in the dark, cheering. My parents’ voices whispering pride into my ears.
What is this?
----
Laughter. A girl—her eyes bright, her arms tight around me. Her voice rings out, so clear it stings.
“Let’s share the name. I’ll be Alex, and you—Sasha!”
----
A dog presses into me. Its warmth soaks into my skin, its eyes locked on mine with absolute trust. I feel… something. Not pain. Something stronger.
It slips away before I can name it.
----
A ball of light sits in my hands—ticking, alive. Magic. I made it. Despite everything, I have magic. I smile.
----
The visions rip through me, one after another. A house. Faces. Laughter. Cup of coffee. A sunset. A vast sea. Edgar.
That doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense. These things cannot exist. They don’t.
I try to pull away, to shove these images out of me. Whatever Chaos wants to do here, I should stop it before it fully transpires. It won't hurt that much then.
But I can’t stop them. Of course, I cannot. I never can stop him. I keep trying though. Always.
But now, I don’t want to.
Again. After an eternity of his traps, I fall for it again. Will I ever learn?
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The images hurt. Not like Chaos. They are wrong. They cannot exist. Nothing but pain and Chaos exists. Nothing.
What is this? What am I seeing?
The net tightens. My body—this body—shudders. I’ve stopped fighting. The visions splinter my focus, shaking something loose inside me. I don't want to fight.
I see one of the constructs move. It… reaches for me. Its energy presses close, brushing against me. It doesn’t hurt.
It doesn’t burn.
It doesn’t destroy.
It feels like… nothing.
No pain. No Chaos. Just nothing.
The net slackens, and the darkness presses in. It’s heavy, pulling at me. I brace myself for the return of torment, but it doesn’t come.
The world drags me under. My edges blur. My thoughts slow.
This… feels like losing awareness. That’s weird. Chaos doesn’t let me lose awareness. Sometimes, he pushes too far, and my mind fractures enough that I slip into the dark, and only pain remains. I cling to these moments. It’s easier then. He never allows it to linger.
But this is different. There’s no pain. How can there be no pain for so long?
Could I have done it? Could this finally be—?
Oblivion.
Maybe this is how it feels.
I let it take me.
----------
Alex. 5 years BA.
ACC Serenia research facility at the Door.
It wasn’t necessary for Alex to be here. Edgar had said so, repeatedly. “Sasha won’t know you’re here. She won’t understand anything.” But Alex had insisted.
She’d waited for 22 years—through Sasha’s disappearance, Edgar’s grim visit to tell her about her friend’s fate, and the long years when hope felt more like a wound than a comfort. She’d been useless back then. Now, at forty, a wife, a mother, and a doctor trained to face emergencies most wouldn’t survive, Alex couldn’t let herself be useless again.
And so, Edgar let her come. Reluctantly.
She thought she was prepared. For the ritual, for the magic. For the return of her best friend. But she wasn’t.
Alex stood at the edge of the platform alongside other medics. Her stomach twisted into knots she refused to acknowledge. The energy in the chamber pulsed around her, heavy and alive, thick enough that even she could feel it, though magic had never been hers to wield. It vibrated in her chest, climbing through her veins. It felt wrong, tainted.
Then, it happened.
A glow appeared on the platform—soft at first, then blinding. A human shape, its edges blurring, dissolving into light. For one terrible moment, Alex’s mind latched onto a single thought. She’s leaving. Self-annihilation. All stories about Saviors—except Edgar—ended with glowing bodies dissolving into stardust.
Please no. Not her. Not Sasha.
Edgar’s voice rang out, commanding and steady, barking orders to mages in words Alex couldn’t understand. Magic flared—bright, raw, visceral. To Alex, it looked like war. A violent tug-and-pull of energy, surging in time with Edgar’s gestures, his entire frame rigid with focus. She couldn’t understand what was happening, couldn’t really see, but she felt it, every thrum and pull of power rattling her bones.
It lasted only minutes. It felt like forever.
And then, the glow faded.
The thing that remained wasn’t Sasha.
It was a body. Skinless. Raw and exposed, like something torn violently from its shell. Blood pooled beneath it, and for the first time in her career, Alex’s hands trembled. She’d seen burn victims, trauma patients, people torn apart by accidents and magic gone wrong—but this was worse. Inhuman.
She moved before she realized it, instincts screaming at her to act. An IV—pain meds—healer—something. But Edgar stopped her.
“Stay back.” Medics around her exchanged glances, but no one moved, following orders.
Then, to Alex’s disbelief, Edgar simply approached Sasha. He knelt beside the flayed body, ignoring the gore that soaked through his uniform as he lifted her into his arms; blood dripped from his sleeves. He held her, his embrace careful, gentle. He whispered words Alex couldn’t hear and cast a spell—a soft, barely visible glow.
The figure in Edgar’s arms sagged like a marionette with its strings cut.
“She sleeps now,” Edgar said, voice rough with exhaustion. “That’s good.” He laid Sasha’s body onto a suspended magic bed, her ruined frame hanging weightlessly in the air. Edgar’s movements were slow now, careful. He was in no hurry anymore.
Alex broke then. “Good? Edgar, she’s dying! She’s in pain shock!”
“No,” he replied, his gaze sharp and unrelenting as it met hers. She stared at him, unable to comprehend his calm. He looked tired. Sweat beaded at his temple, his usually immaculate coat was stained with streaks of blood and gore, but his voice—his eyes—remained steady. Relieved, even.
“She isn’t.” He gestured toward Sasha’s ruined form. “This? She doesn’t even feel it. It’s not for her. It’s for you.”
Alex froze.
“A reminder,” Edgar continued, his voice low, lined with something so cold it almost shook her. “A postcard from Chaos.”
His words hit like a slap. She saw the flicker of hatred in his eyes—raw and undiluted. Not toward her or Sasha, but something far beyond her understanding. Chaos.
“Her body will heal itself,” Edgar explained, his tone quieter now. “She’s powerful. Far more than I anticipated.” A shadow flickered across his expression—worry? Fear? Alex couldn’t tell.
She didn’t care. She could only focus on the dark patterns of blood streaked across Edgar’s uniform. Sasha's blood still dripped from his sleeve.
Alex didn’t know how long she stood there, staring at Sasha’s still form as they took her away. It wasn’t the injuries that chilled her—though they were beyond anything she’d seen. It wasn’t even Edgar’s callous dismissal of pain.
It was his certainty. “She doesn’t even feel it.”
At that moment, Alex realized the truth Edgar had tried to tell her, tell all of them, over and over again. The Sasha they knew—the girl who made so many stupid jokes, who dreamed of studying magic, who drank far too much coffee—was gone.
Whatever remained now, whatever came back, was beyond her. Beyond anyone. Beyond human.
Edgar hadn’t lied. He’d warned her. You won’t understand. You can’t.
And he was right.
Alex thought she’d come to help. To anchor Sasha. But the truth hit her like ice: whatever Sasha had endured in Chaos was too terrible to fathom, and the person who had returned—who survived—was someone she might never reach, no matter how she tried.
A stranger.
A Savior.