The Sabzeruz festival is today. I blink my eyes open to a tiled ceiling, black and white, with tints of forest green. Beside me, Paimon yawns and shifts in bed.

"Why does Paimon feel so tired after so much sleep?" She murmurs.

I must agree. Despite our long night of sleep – the sun shines bright through our mosaic glass window – I feel drained. Sitting up, I shake the cotton from my head.

"Dunyarzad's waiting for us," I say. Stepping into my clothes, I walk out the door as Paimon continues to stretch groggily.

"Good morning Lumine, Paimon." Rising from a bench by the entrance to the Bazaar, Dunyarzad waves us over with a smile.

"Good morning," Paimon says. "Did you sleep well, Dunyarzad? You looked tired today." Dunyarzad has heavy circles under her eyes, and her skin looks sallow.

"I'm fine," Dunyarzad replies. "Shall we start over there?" She points towards several stalls. This is all too familiar. We visit the fruit seller and the fortune teller. By the time we reach Vihar's stall, I'm at a loss for words.

"Box four," I say without waiting to be offered the choices.

"Oho?" Vihar chirps. "I like your confidence – no hesitation at all. Congratulations! Number four is indeed sunsettia."

"Number one is lizard tail. Number two is harra fruit. Number three is lavender melon. Number five is onikabuto," I say, listing out these facts I know to be true.

Vihar's face falls. "How did you know? I packed these boxes myself this morning, and they've been sealed ever since," he stammers. "Is this mind reading? X-ray vision? This is way too freaky!"

"Tell us what's going on!" Paimon cries. "Since when did you obtain superpowers, Lumine?"

Wait. In the corner of my eye, just behind Vihar's stall, I thought I saw a glimpse of someone familiar. A little girl was waving to me. Ignoring the people in front of me, I rush out of the bazaar and into the city. I need to follow her. I just know it.

By the time Paimon catches up to me, she's irate. "That was so rude!" She shouts. "You left Dunyarzad and me without a word!"

Looking around me, I find myself in a residential area in the northern part of Sumeru city. Small houses are surrounded by individual gardens, each providing sustenance for its family. As I glance farther down the road, empty save for a little bird, I recall a silver-haired girl once beckoned me over that way.

"Lumine?" Paimon says loudly.

"Over there," I say, pointing in the direction of my memory. Chasing that figment of imagination, I run towards the Bimarstan, Sumeru City's medical institution. I'll find that little girl there. I know it. Finally, I stop beside the hospital beds, situated in a sunny wing open to the elements. They are all unoccupied, save for the last. Laying atop this bed is none other than Dunyarzad, unconscious.

"She was just with us a moment ago," I murmur. This is not possible. Also, I was looking for that girl, not Dunyarzad.

"You already know this is not your first Sabzeruz Festival, don't you?" A soft voice whispers.

I pivot around, and there she is: the silver-haired girl stands before me, hand outstretched, a golden capsule within her palm.

"A knowledge capsule," Paimon breathes. "Where did you get it?"

"You should use it too, Paimon," the girl says, smiling. The capsule lights up the green in her eyes – the same color as the tips of her silver hair. Illuminated by the glow of knowledge, she's like a forest fairy in the world of mankind.

"Y-You know my name?" Paimon stammers. Evidently, she doesn't remember this girl.

"Let's use it together," I say. It's time to find out what's really happening. Reaching our hands out together, we make contact with the knowledge capsule.

Instantly, days upon days of memories flood my mind. Twenty Sabzeruz festivals – no, thirty, forty. Every fruit for the Haft-Mewa feast, every flavor of candy, I've eaten them all. I've run away to the tavern and chased this strange girl more times than I could count. How many ways have I tried to break out? How many times have we experienced this same day?

"What was in that knowledge capsule?" I say slowly. "Who are you?"

"Your memories are still scrambled?" She replies. "Try to remember. This isn't the first time we've met, and I answered that question a long time ago."

I close my eyes and let the thoughts settle in my head. Meeting her was the real catalyst for restoring our memories, and the knowledge capsule was only her means of showing our minds the way. We've gone through this conversation nearly every single day. "Why do you only help us?" I say finally.

"Your sense of deja vu is stronger than everyone else's, yes?" She says. "You two received the blessing of Dendro, and you also have special, sensitive constitutions. It was as if a single sheet of rice paper was separating those memories from your consciousness."

"What's wrong with this Dunyarzad?" I ask as a follow-up.

"A familiar question," she replies. "I think this is the seventh time you asked me this. As you can she, she's not doing well. The Dunyarzad you were just with is different from the first Dunyarzad you met. The 'first' Dunyarzad is in front of you right now, and she doesn't have a lot of time left."

"To help her, I need to break out of this cycle," I say, remembering now.

"Looks like you're almost done sorting out your brain," she replies.

"You're Nahida," I conclude. It's as if her name surfaced to my consciousness as the final key to my memories.

"Good. You passed the test," Nahida replies.

"Hold on. What's happening?" Paimon says. "You can awaken our memories, and you know what's going on – wait! Please don't tell Paimon even you don't know!"

"Everything in this world runs in a loop." Nahida draws a circle in midair, as if she's done this a hundred times before. "This cycle is called a 'samsara.' You, me, and everyone else are stuck inside a one-day samsara." She sits down by Dunyarzad's bed. "As for the truth, that's on you to find out. If I told you outright, your little minds would be blown to bits, and I can't guarantee your sanity after that."

I cannot believe that a little girl is warning me that my mind is going to explode.

"I can only give you surface-level help and subtle hints," Nahida continues. "For the rest of the time, my focus is own slowing down Dunyarzad's illness and protecting those like her."

"Her condition worsens after every Sabzeruz festival," I observe. What a genuinely cruel fate, for someone who was so eager for this day to come.

"If we can break out of the samsara, I might be able to save her," Nahida reminds me. "Right now, she's just a small bird in the sky that's about to lose its last feathers. All I can do is raise a gale to slow her fall."

"Nahida sure loves weird analogies," Paimon says. My restored memories tend to agree.

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"Analogies are wonderful tools," Nahida says happily. "They teach you unfamiliar things through existing knowledge." Tilting her head, she looks straight at me. "Now with what you know so far, what do you think the truth is?"

I count off the facts on my fingers. The Moon symbolizes illusions and lies. That much is self-evident. So far, we've been living through a samsara of the same day, countless times. We wake up each day more tired than the last. What is going on?

"We're stuck in a time loop," I propose. "The flow of time is endlessly cycling within a single day."

Nahida sighs. "A pity. You've given similarly wrong answers in the past. Think harder. A simple time loop can't explain some of all the phenomena you see. You're neglecting a lot of information."

"So time isn't repeating itself?" I say. Then what is it?

As if in response, Dunyarzad lets out a feeble cough. Concerned, Nahida places her hand over Dunyarzad's chest, and she appears to stabilize for the moment.

"The Sabzeruz festival repeats itself every day, but that doesn't mean we can waste an infinite number of them," Nahida says, softly but sternly. "Hurry up and find the truth before today's festival ends."

Paimon and I wander back to the city center, mulling over the information at hand. "Paimon's memories say that we've already tried this," Paimon suggests, "but let's go talk to more people again."

"It's more productive than sitting here and scratching our heads," I say. "Why don't we start with those stall owners?" I trace our steps back to Amal's fruit stall.

"Hey! It's you guys again!" Amal says cheerfully. "What happened to your cultured friend?"

"She's not feeling well," I say with more than a little guilt.

"I see," Amal says, less cheerful now. "Did you come back to buy something? I guarantee the freshness of my products. I harvested them from the forest just yesterday."

I exchange a look with Paimon. He couldn't have harvested them yesterday. "Have you felt anything strange lately?" I ask finally. "Do you ever feel like you're reliving the same day?"

Amal frowns. "What brought this about? I hurried back from the forest yesterday, and I'm selling produce here today. I haven't felt anything strange."

"To put it another way," Paimon says, "if you really think about it, was 'yesterday' really 'yesterday?' Did you really go to the forest yesterday?"

Crossing his arms, Amal shakes his head. "What kind of philosophical nonsense are you spouting? Are you two daydreaming?" He demands.

"We were just curious," I say quickly. This isn't looking good for us.

"Don't you know that no one dreams in Sumeru?!" Amal says, frustrated. "Go somewhere else if you want to find someone to daydream with. I only sell fruit."

As I walk away, a certain phrase strikes me. "Daydreaming," I repeat aloud.

"What?" Paimon says.

"Is this a dream? Is everyone dreaming?" I say slowly.

"Remember what he just said?" Paimon says impatiently. "No one dreams in Sumeru."

"That's weird though," I say. "Why?"

"Even if they did, wouldn't we have woken up a long time ago?" Paimon points out.

That does make sense. "Who else can we ask?"

"Let's talk to Dehya," Paimon says.

"Based on our memories, we've tried talking to her a couple of times, but she always thinks we're pranking her," I say. How do we convince her? Dehya is loyal and down-to-earth, so she won't believe random theories that we weave out of thin air. However, perhaps we can take advantage of her commitment to Dunyarzad. "What if we bring her to the real Dunyarzad?" I suggest. "She'll have to believe that something is very wrong."

Paimon nods. "If we tap into Dehya's strong sense of responsibility, then she'll definitely take us seriously."

"At this time of day, Dehya just finished fighting those kidnappers," I say. "Let's go." Together, we head back towards that alley outside our inn. As expected, Dehya and Dunyarzad are walking out of the ambush, shaken but unharmed.

"–It's just a scratch," Dehya says, brushing off Dunyarzad's concerns.

"Perfect timing!" Paimon says gleefully. "Both of you are here."

"Paimon! Lumine!" Dunyarzad says, waving at us. "You came at just the right time. Listen, there was a dangerous situation," she starts to explain.

"A gang of kidnappers ambushed you, but Dehya defeated them," I say.

"You were there?!" Dehya exclaims. "Why didn't you jump in earlier? If someone was protecting Miss Dunyarzad, I could have gone all out." She sighs and puts down her greatsword. "Anyway, can you do something for me?"

"You want Lumine to take Dunyarzad somewhere to rest, while you check to see if the surroundings are safe," Paimon recites. "Did Paimon get that right?"

Dehya looks taken aback. "How did you know?" She asks apprehensively.

"You were injured because you aren't used to your current greatsword," I press on. "You sold your greatsword to support the festival."

"What?!" Dehya says, alarmed. "I didn't tell anyone. You couldn't have known, and you literally took words out of my mouth. How?"

Here goes. I carefully recount to Dehya our observation of the single day repeating over and over. Then stepping back, I await her response.

Dehya's face transforms from shock, to incredulity, then doubt. "This is hard to believe," she begins, "but let me make something clear. Most of us desert-dwellers might not be the scholarly type, but we do have common sense."

She's not buying it. "Haven't you noticed something off about Dunyarzad?" I continue. We can't lose her this time.

"She's quieter than usual," Paimon adds. "Uninterested in anything, and really gloomy."

"She's not the same as before," Dehya admits, "but her parents say that this is how she used to be."

"Come with me," I say. "I can show you evidence." Dehya looks at Dunyarzad, unwilling to leave her behind.

"I don't understand what you're talking about, so I'll go rest on a bench over there," Dunyarzad says, walking away.

"My lady!" Dehya shouts. "Are you angry?"

Looking back, Dunyarzad shakes her head. "Don't worry. I'll be sitting right here."

"Let her be," I say. "She needs to rest anyways."

Dehya is still hesitant, but she nods. "I'll give you the benefit of the doubt since you knew about my greatsword," she says. "Let's make this quick. My lady isn't completely safe here."

Back at the Birmastan, Nahida looks at us disapprovingly, as if we've blundered into the same mistake yet again. "I thought I told you that it won't affect the samsara to bring anyone else here," she says in a disappointed tone.

"We wanted to show her the real Dunyarzad," I say. According to my memories, we haven't tried this tactic before.

"What do you mean the 'real' Dunyarzad?" Dehya cuts in. "Where? Who are you talking to?" She glances blankly around the empty building without focusing on anything in particular.

Nahida sighs and crosses her arms. "I've told you that you two are special. Other people can't see us."

Dehya starts to walk around, taking in the scene with all her senses. Then slowly, she approaches Dunyarzad's bed. I hold my breath as she stops before her friend.

"She's lying down here, isn't she?" Dehya whispers. "How is she doing?"

Nahida whistles and her eyes widen. "How perceptive. Does she have invisible antennae?"

"You can see her too?" I say. We are finally making progress. "She's not doing well," I add. "She's basically in a coma."

"I sense her aura," Dehya replies, worry etched into her face. "There are also lingering traces of regret or sorrow. What's happening?"

This time, I repeat our observations about the samsara, taking care to enumerate every detail in case Dehya sees a clue that we missed. "Do you believe us now?" I say. "The Sabzeruz festival has been repeating itself."

"The sages – they've always been against us," she says quietly. "It wouldn't surprise me if they're using the Akasha to replay the Sabzeruz festival as some sort of sick joke."

She has a point. Aside from the Dendro Archon, the sages are the only ones with the power to enact such a wide plan. Perhaps the Akasha is more powerful than we know.

"What can you tell us about the Akasha?" I say, addressing Nahida.

She smiles and nods. "The Akasha requires a Gnosis to operate, as it is the manifestation of the God of Wisdom's power. It compiles the wisdom of the entire populace and distributes knowledge to the people."

A Gnosis. No wonder the Akasha is so powerful. I relay Nahida's words to Dehya, whose face takes on a look of consternation.

"'Compiles and grants knowledge,'" she quotes. "I get the 'grants knowledge' part – that's whole point of the Akasha – but about 'compiles?'"

Dread fills my gut, as I let that word sink in. We wake up each morning exhausted, even though our minds should be fresh from the night's sleep. If the Akasha takes in the form of mental capacity, what it gives back in knowledge, could that explain our recent fatigue? We've been forced into the same experience day after day. Our minds are being extracted of computational power for some ulterior motive unbeknownst to us.

"If you could combine every single person in Sumeru City into a massive brain, this hive mind could make breakthroughs in problems that even the smartest geniuses can't crack," Dehya concludes. Looking at Dunyarzad's bed, Dehya adds sadly, "when the desert-dwellers set off on their quest for knowledge, a sage once told them that 'knowledge always has its price.' What price have we been forced to pay?"

"An excellent deduction!" Nahida commends, "and the analogy comparing Sumeru City to a massive brain? I love it." She claps her hands in applause.

"In that case, we should remove our Akasha terminals right away," Paimon suggests. "Maybe that will break us out of the loop."

"Man, I was only wearing this for show in the first place," Dehya grumbles. "Who knew the sages would cook up such a conspiracy? I'm going to expose them for good once this is all over."

Somehow Paimon's idea feels too simple to be true, but it's still worth a shot. Looking at one another, we each take off our headpieces.

Nothing happens. I'm not sure what I expected – the world shattering into digital shards or my mental fog clearing up – but I feel no different.

"A valiant attempt," Nahida says, amused. She sits back on her leafy Dendro swing and rocks back and forth, staring at us.

[*beep*]

"Wait," I say. "Did you just hear that?!" I could have sworn I heard a familiar beep from inside my ear, even though my Akasha now lies on the palm of my hand.

"At the end of each day," Dehya says urgently. "Could it be a prompt tone for when the Akasha is operating?"

"I heard the same sound in Port Ormos," I say. Even as I speak, my vision grows darker with every word. "But we took our Akashas off," I manage to add, before I fall into oblivion.

[Phase runtime has exceeded its expected length. At this rate, there may be casualties.]

[We cannot sacrifice our progress.]