Anyway, in the very next moment, my gaze shifted to the last of the three virtues present in the room: Nyara. The third sister to join us. If I had to sum up Nyara in just two words, they’d definitely be Shy and Fearful.
She’s the kind of person who’s easily swept away by her own emotions, as if every little thing could completely change her mood. An ironic trait, at the very least — after all, we’re talking about someone who is, without exaggeration, chaos incarnate. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that chaos exists only because Nyara exists.
Maybe sensing the weight of my stare, Nyara slowly turned toward me. Her eyes — large, a deep hypnotic gold — showed spiraling irises that subtly twirled, like they were dancing under some invisible light. Her vertical, sharp, feline pupils stared at me intensely.
There was a brief hesitation on her lips before she murmured, her voice low and heavy with shyness: “Welcome... sister”
I cast a quick glance at the three in front of me and, for a moment, could only think of one thing: this was definitely our fault. There was no need to ask them — I could feel, with an almost uncomfortable clarity, that somehow, just Nyara’s presence had made all of this possible.
Not that she did anything on purpose — far from it — but it was undeniable that her presence was the spark that set all these events in motion. It was as if the world around us started spinning a different way the moment she arrived.
As I drifted momentarily into thought, my eyes remained fixed on the three. I caught a glimpse of them exchanging looks, their faces showing a visible confusion at my silence. For a brief second, I hesitated, wondering what I should say.
Then, a curious thought struck me — something that, until then, had never crossed my mind: I had never asked them a direct question. I’d never really stopped to think about that. With that realization, words began to form in my mind... and almost involuntarily, they echoed like a silent call, reaching each of them.
(By the way... what do you three think of humans?) I asked, letting the question slip out with a curious, almost casual tone. My gaze swept across each of them in silence, lingering briefly on every face, watching for the slightest reaction.
At my question, the three exchanged quick looks, as if trying to guess what each was thinking. For a moment, they all seemed to sink into silent reflection. Nekra broke the silence first. She shrugged carelessly, as if the topic didn’t really excite her or inspire a strong opinion.
Then she expressed her thoughts with an indifferent tone: “If I’m being honest... they’re interesting... I guess?”
Nekra’s voice carried that usual carefree tone, touched with a bit of irony, as if any answer would do... or, looking at it another way, as if she just didn’t care enough to think much about it.
“I mean... they seem fragile... always making stupid decisions...” She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts, her eyes drifting around the room with a distant look: “But at the same time... they’ve got this stubbornness I kinda admire... I guess...” A nearly imperceptible and very rare smile appeared at the corner of her lips: “They keep moving forward... even when everything seems to be falling apart”
When she finished, Nekra simply fell silent, as if her words were just a passing comment, nothing too important, letting the silence fill the space.
After Nekra, it was Althea’s turn to speak. She crossed her arms with a calm movement, though a certain contained tension was evident, and let out a soft sigh. Her eyes — the same deep hypnotic gold — seemed to glow a little brighter as she carefully considered what to say. For a brief moment, silence hung in the air, as if she was choosing every word with extreme care.
Finally, her voice came low but steady: “In my case... I think humans are... unpredictable”
Althea spoke with an almost ethereal calm, her tone carrying a distant tenderness — like a mother watching her children from afar, assessing them with the patience of someone who has lived through centuries. Every word felt carefully crafted, as if the result of countless reflections over eons.
“They live on the edge of their own limits...” she said, her gaze lost somewhere beyond those walls, as if seeing far beyond this place: “Always swinging between birth and ruin, between the deepest love and the most excruciating pain. They’re capable of acts of devastating cruelty...” her voice dropped for a moment, almost a whisper full of sorrow: “... and at the same time, acts of compassion so genuine, so selfless, they defy any kind of logic”
She paused briefly, her eyes wandering off into the distance, as if for a moment she was contemplating all the generations that had passed through her unseen hands. Her voice then came with a melancholic tenderness: “Life... isn’t linear...” she murmured, as if speaking to herself before sharing the thought with the world: “And humans... ah, they’re the perfect reflection of that. They fall... they break... they bleed... and yet... somehow... they find the strength to bloom again... and again. As if mere existence itself is a silent act of resistance... and maybe... hope”
Saying that, a nearly imperceptible smile crossed Althea’s lips, as if in that very moment specific memories started to parade through her mind. Her gaze drifted away briefly, like she was replaying distant scenes.
Then, with a low voice filled with genuine admiration, she added: “It’s easy to underestimate them... but... the way they never stop fighting for a better future... it’s truly admirable”
Honestly, I couldn’t quite grasp what Althea was trying to say. Her words sounded cryptic, almost like they were meant to be understood only by herself. Maybe it was because of her unique position... After all, she was the mother of all creation, the origin of all existence. Or maybe it was a trait she developed during the time she lived as a human, learning to observe and feel the world from a limited and fragile perspective.
Though I didn’t know which answer was right — or if both were true in some way — there was something I caught between the lines of her words: Althea really saw humans with the gaze of a mother who cares deeply, but who, by principle or conviction, chooses not to directly interfere in her children’s lives.
Anyway, finally, my gaze settled back on Nyara. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, as if carefully weighing her next words.
Her golden eyes, with spiraling irises, briefly averted from mine, and her feline-like pupils appeared to narrow even more, like an involuntary nervous reflex. I noticed a slight tremor in her shoulders before she finally took a deep breath, as if summoning the courage to reveal something that ate away at her inside.
Then, almost timidly, her voice emerged—soft and trembling, like a long-kept confession: “I-I... think they’re... scary...” she murmured, her voice low and a little shaky.
As she spoke, her golden eyes softly glimmered, reflecting a strange mix of fear, fascination, and a hint of sadness hard to define. Her voice, fragile as it was, carried an unexpected weight.
She swallowed hard before continuing, even quieter, as if describing a recurring nightmare: “They... feel everything... all at once... nonstop... sadness... anger... joy... hope... all together... like their chest is too small... to hold so much...”
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to shield from an invisible storm only she seemed to feel. Her body trembled slightly, and her voice broke as if each word cost her effort: “They... cry... scream... lose themselves...” she paused, hugging herself tighter.
“and yet... they keep trying... even when everything is... in pieces... even when... it should’ve ended already...”
For a moment, her expression faded, her eyes becoming distant, as if her mind was taking her back to some memory: “It’s beautiful... but at the same time... painful to watch...”
“They’re... loud... chaotic... sometimes... even unbearable... but... somehow... it’s beautiful too...”
For a moment, she closed her eyes, as if needing a breath to process what she felt. There was a strange contradiction pulsing in her chest, like her own heart trying to decipher that confusing mix of emotions... that raw, disorderly beauty that hurts just to look at.
As I listened to each of them, I noticed a curious pattern: although each had different thoughts and opinions, there was something subtly yet clearly uniting them. All watched humans from a distance, like watching a fire from afar… with a mix of uneasy curiosity, restrained fear, and a strange, almost involuntary admiration.
Honestly, this was the first time I asked them a question. To be honest, even with my memories slowly coming back, and even when some of them finally surfaced, most of the time they were fragments you could easily call irrelevant—disconnected flashes, with no relation to the current situation. In the end, one truth became quite clear to me: I really knew almost nothing about Nekra, Althea, and Nyara.
Currently, before Emily stood a massive screen, its surface showing obscured figures, each perfectly framed within the many squares dividing the image like a dark mosaic.
The voices echoing from there overflowed with pure rage, charged with an almost palpable fury, as the figures threw sharp words at Emily like invisible blades cutting the air.
At that moment, Emily silently thanked that the room was almost completely plunged in shadow—a darkness serving as a shield, preventing the figures from seeing the expression she tried to hide. Yet, even in the dim light, the total disgust on her face was evident.
“So...” one of the figures began, their voice loaded with disbelief and a slight tone of incredulity, almost as if it was hard to believe what they were hearing: “You’re really telling us something went wrong—and now all the ordinary civilians are remembering all their memories we erased?”
Emily sighed silently, compressing her thoughts so as not to reveal worry. With a steady voice, though tinged with slight tension, she said: “This has already slipped out of our control, sir. We will terminate all operations related to this anomaly immediately, as we don’t know what other disasters it might trigger”
After saying those words, Emily slowly shifted her gaze to the dark figures standing out in the shadows. Though all remained silent, she knew, with an almost instinctive certainty, that behind that apparent silence, the shadows on the screen exchanged silent comments and discussions among themselves.
Then, a sudden memory flooded her mind. Her gaze slid again, this time focusing on the dark, feminine figure. Emily noticed, with unsettling clarity, that silhouette seemed to be wearing a subtle smile—a smile that showed amusement, as if that character considered the whole situation a kind of game or spectacle.
Emily couldn’t pinpoint exactly when that figure had appeared among the many squares filling the huge screen before her. The only certainty she had was that presence carried considerable influence within the organization. A slight chill ran down her spine as she observed the firm posture and determined gaze of that person.
As her eyes scanned the male faces displayed, Emily began recognizing features and gestures that seemed vaguely familiar—fragmented memories of people she had seen before, maybe in meetings or old reports. However, the female figure, as enigmatic as silent, remained a complete mystery to her, wrapped in an aura of authority and secrecy that Emily couldn’t decipher.
However, although Emily wasn't entirely sure about the identity of that female figure, there was one thing she knew with absolute certainty: that woman was no ordinary person. Even among the world's highest authorities, her presence stood out in an almost imposing way, as if she radiated unquestionable authority and a power that left no room for doubt.