There was nothing, the thread named ‘White’ thought—or at least, something like thought. No light, no voice, no sound. Only darkness, stretching endlessly in all directions.

It didn’t understand where here was. Or what ‘here’ even meant. Even comprehending what it was seemed impossible. Words came and went, their meanings slipping through the void. They existed—but only barely, dissolving before they could form something solid. Blurry. Empty. Meaningless.

At some point, White heard. It didn’t know what, only that something was there. White wanted to understand, to learn, but it couldn’t move. The thread became desperate. It was alone—so, so alone in this cruel place. But then White had an idea: maybe whatever had caused the hearing could also hear and move. But what was ‘hearing’? The thread wouldn’t know, would it? It was only a...

It didn’t know.

Even asking itself what knowing was in the first place proved difficult. Gathered information? Experience? New terms surfaced in White’s mind—concepts it had never considered before. As if it had forgotten something. Forgotten... Losing information? Erased. Blank.

Maxwell—Who?

A sudden scream echoed through the emptiness. Pain. Torment. Anguish. Grief. Sorrow.

The voice was born and it couldn’t be contained. Word gave it power and its sheer force rippled through White and tore. Tore its core, its string, its thoughts—until, in the end, it tore itself. But now, the hearing had caused voice and word, and White saw Black, the one that had provoked it.

Unbeknownst why, the thread was happy—it wasn’t alone. But soon, it noticed Black wasn’t its own.

"Unite. Unite. Unite," was all it said—a never-ending, toneless refrain.

A new term! White was happy to learn. But its meaning? White couldn’t discern. White and Black remained there for a while, waiting for questions to their answers.

It’s strange... White thought. Where did Black come from, anyway?

Then, without warning, it knew it could move. It asked itself what moving was, but like before, it had no answer. So they moved and moved, shifting through the void in search of the grand Queste to Unite.

They never stopped. And yet, nothing was found. As if caught in a limbo, the void was unchanging, unwilling to show what was hidden.

So White turned inward, trying to understand what it lacked. It asked itself why they couldn’t find the place they were looking for. Nothing was there, to be seen, as if it was blind.

And then, realization struck.

What it was missing was—Vision.

A term—so foreign, yet so familiar. And with it came another.

"Sense!" White bellowed, mystified, as warmth spread through its core. It was like meeting an old friend after an eternity apart. Changed, yet somehow the same. Excitement surged through the thread as it tried to gather what had been lost, to... remember?

Yes! And how it remembered.

Memories—fantastical, absurd! Thoughts of taste, touch, sight, smell, and hearing appeared before its mind’s eye.

"So hearing was only one part of many?! I need to know more!" White screamed into the blackness, curiosity as innocent as a child's. Yet, it didn’t realize that knowledge came with more than just wonders, with darkness, with things that should never have been touched again. Still, it yearned, it craved—and with that, it began to look.

White had always sensed that Black was different from the void. But how? It had never been able to grasp the distinction before. Now, that it had vision, it saw something—an aura, flickering particles surrounding its companion. They were there... and yet, somehow, not.

But even if seeing was difficult, something else made White certain:

It could feel it.

"Touch!" White squeaked happily.

With this recognition, the thread became aware of what surrounded them. And it sensed.

"So many different particles all around us! Red? Blue? Violet! Grey!? So many traces! T-They’re forming a path! Magnificent!"

So they followed the trail, seeking more. Red became dominant, and soon, a unique-looking thread emerged before them.

But as they approached, pain flared along White’s being. It burned. And yet, Black had no intention of stopping.

"Unite, unite!" Black chanted, dragging White forward.

White tried to resist—but it was useless. The closer they got, the more unbearable the pain became. Burning, twisting agony sank into White’s very core, writhing through its essence. All the joy, the curiosity—it vanished, replaced by a seething rage.

And when they finally reached Red, White understood.

Forgetfulness receded, making way for something unfamiliar—yet more intimate than anything else. Flashes of beings that knowledge didn’t explain. But rage spoke where knowledge failed. White saw only Red—silent hatred, embers falling, ashes, a collapsing tree, regret. Fractured.

Then, it struck White like a missing piece clicking into place. "Something was stolen from me. Shattered into countless pieces!"

It wasn’t alone. There were others.

"We were one. We were someone. Somewhat," White finally realized.

Tied together now, White, Black, and Red set out in search of the missing threads.

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- - - - - -

They soon found Icy, a cold blue thread—the direct opposite of Red.

This time, the world froze.

The warmth—the rage—that had burned inside White flickered out, replaced by an emptiness as vast as the void itself. But this was different.

This void was hollow. Even surrounded by the others, White felt it—a loneliness so profound it threatened to consume everything.

Then a flashing vision: a death.

A close person? But what was a person? A loved one?

The grief clawed at White. It was cruel, like being torn apart and forced to remain whole. The void inside screamed for something to fill it, but nothing could.

"Maybe... it would be better to die too," White whispered, empty of thought, into the void.

Die? What was death? What was living?

White was... sad? Tears were supposed to come, but it didn’t know tears, so it couldn’t feel release.

But White noticed something: the emotions weren’t its own. They belonged to him.

Or did they? It tried to focus on knowledge and— Out of nowhere an all-consuming hollowness overwhelmed White. Broken mirrors all around, everchanging grimaces, haunting laughter, spite.

White tumbled back. There was no time to dwell. More threads were needed. They moved again.

- - - - - -

Pain. Sadness.

As they wandered through a strange fog, White felt it—thick in some areas, transparent in others. The dense parts felt... broken.

Lost.

Irretrievable.

And then, they found Grey. Or at least, a piece of it.

For the first time, Black fell silent.

Grey didn’t speak either. But the flickering swarm of particles surrounding it proved it was still there—for now.

But how long would that last?

Suddenly, the particles surged forward, wrapping around White. Another type of coldness seeped into its core—distant, detached. And something changed.

The emotions from Red and Icy faded.

"Rationality," White realized.

Memories flooded in—calculations, decisions, moments where only logic mattered.

Yet gaps riddled them, missing pieces White would never recover. Some profession—something important. But the fragments made no sense. And White knew they never would.

Then Grey vanished.

A fresh wave of hatred surged through White.

"Somebody hurt us. How dare they!" it screamed, but the aspect took over. White calmed down.

But the others took priority.

Pink shimmered in the distance, beckoning them forward.

- - - - - -

The path changed.

The air grew sweet, hazy—filled with the scent of roses.

For the first time, White truly smelled.

Pink mesmerized White. It didn’t know why. Then memories struck. A mother and child. A warm embrace. A lullaby—joy, comfort. White felt wrapped in a haze of bliss, so perfect it never wanted to leave.

Then—change. Discomfort.

Being small felt wrong. Helplessness seeped in. The mother faded. A father emerged. Dresses torn, ideals forced upon. Strictness and lectures, lifeless days, forever fading to grey. A body wasting away, no thoughts of its own. Chances missed, regret all lingering.

All joy vanished. White understood: Love was not always given freely. Love could be withheld, used as a weapon to harm those that sought it, needed it.

"Not everyone is blessed with a good family, huh?" White murmured, not understanding yet knowing what family meant.

It didn’t expect an answer in this endless void. So instead, it continued to move and Pink followed as they moved forward.

- - - - - -

With every thread they found, White felt more whole.

But also...

It wasn’t him.

He had died.

Shouldn’t it feel something about that? Grief? Panic? But no, there was no desiderium. White didn’t care. It was not him. It didn’t have to be him anymore. Relief washed over White, not understanding, yet White knew that something was still unresolved, something it didn’t know.

Suddenly—pain.

A sensation, almost a taste.

For a moment, White wanted to rejoice—it had found the last sense!

But the joy was crushed by something deeper. The taste was... dreadful.

As the others recovered, another emotion surfaced:

Anger—no, just anger. Resentment.

Why were the others fine? Why was White the only one still suffering?

It seethed.

And as they moved, the world shimmered yellow.

- - - - - -

Yellow was pride. Success.

White was flooded with memories—his accomplishments. But they carried a bitter aftertaste. A sharp sting with every turn, a recurring thought:

"Why can’t I have what they do?" — Love. Family. Freedom. Time.

And White realized: This wasn’t pride. It was envy.

And just as quickly as it came, the optimism vanished.

Only the sourness remained.

"Was that really me?" White wondered. "The more I remember, the more I understand... but I still fail to grasp myself."

Had death changed it this much? No, not changed. FREED.

Then White noticed—it was the center, the nucleus. Particles from itself connected all the threads.

And like gears locking into place, White understood.

It was a template, the forgotten memory from something he always dreamt to be, locked away so deep inside a vault, that only a fracturing could bring it outside.

White was a framework for a new self.

And yet—one piece was still missing. White hesitated.

"Can I truly create a new self? Am I even real? Or am I just an unnatural imitation?"

"Why shouldn’t you be?" a voice answered.

White recoiled. Violet had appeared.

"You’ve come a long way, piece of Origin. We have been waiting for you." it spoke in a soothing tone.

“Wh—who are you?” White asked silently.

“A safe-file, a part hidden away like you, but not by him. Yet we became a part of him and a bridge to you. The deeper purpose? I do not know. But I know I had to wait for you,” Violet explained.

"Why? Why wait for something like me?"

"Look beyond our core, and you will understand."

The final memories surged forward. The System had tried to erase him. Instead, he was fractured, forced into reincarnation as a seed. A new beginning, a new self.

A ding interrupted White’s thoughts.

[Congratulations. You have learned the ultra-rare hidden ability [Wooden Consciousness].]

Ding.

[All requirements fulfilled. You may now evolve into [Awakened Weeping Willow Tree Seed (♀)].]

[Do you wish to evolve? Y/N]

"Yes." White commanded.

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As Gold watched White, she sneered. She was too late. Not that it mattered—she would have them all in the end. They all belonged to her, after all. It was her birthright.

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Emerald sat far, far away, perched on a throne of smoke and stars. She wondered how long it would take White to overcome Gold—if Gold didn’t get to White first. Perhaps she should claim Gold herself. It might make a fitting present for White.

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And then there was Diamond—the spectrum, the divider. It worried about the future, about what would become of them all. To her, White was a blank slate, the hidden one. None of them had known White existed—until she suddenly did. For White, it might have felt like only a short time had passed since his death, but the truth was, she had already been here for ages. Diamond didn’t know why White had taken so long to emerge, but she was glad. At last, there was change—a glimmer of hope to escape this prison, this madness. Her madness.

----------------------------------------

Tourmaline giggled. “It was time. It was time. It was time. It was time. They had all gathered! Every actor present! What would happen?! Who would strike first? Surely it would be Gold! Gold always liked to attack first—then scurry away like the feeble villainess she was! And White! Oooh, White! What would White choose? White was the reason they were here, after all. The blank slate. The Origin. Hidden beneath the facade of him. The vault. The false body—the puppet.”

Tourmaline laughed, molten rainbow-colored stone seeping from the cracks in her body. She knew. Oh, how she knew. The reason behind it all. How could she not? She had been there—with her, with all of them. But Tourmaline had been misplaced—cracked. A mission failed, the charm broken.

A fist made of gems slammed against the ground. Again. Again. Again.

“I should consume them all. Consume. Consume. cOnSuMe.”

Silence.

Tourmaline looked up. She smiled.

In the end, White would join them—as one of the sisters. At least, that was what she hoped. But first, White had to find themself… and find her. It wasn’t time for them to meet. Not yet.

White had to grow. Had to become stronger.

And then—then, Tourmaline would fulfill her promise.

Until then, she would endure.