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[I have to remember it. That’s the only way it will not disappear.]
Sirwen Armelt.
Epilogue. Ouroboros.
“Hey, do you really think we should consider this a masterpiece?”
Nightmares who attended a celebration party mumbled to each other. As the music began to play, the party started and Nightmares drank and ate freely. But the old Nightmares from the Nightmare Union who sat around the main table of the party were busy frowning at each other.
“Ugh.”
In front of their eyes, there was a small statue-sized ‘tower’.
It was once called the ‘Tower of Nightmares’ but it was only called a ‘Tower’ now. It was once an art that glorified Nightmares above all other beings, but it was now an old structure that was only used to reminisce about the old days for old Nightmares. The leader of the Union looked closely into the Tower’s interior and frowned.
“What is this trying to say? This is just a copy of our world!”
“Isn’t it supposed to be the Tree of Imagery? I think it shows the Tree of Imagery.”
“Tree of Imagery? What do you know about the Tree of Imagery? It does look like a tree but…”
“Look at the top floor. This is a joke!”
They criticized as they glared at the exterior of the tower. It was the new creation of the last [Master], Sirwen Armelt.
“That arrogant girl keeps on creating strange towers after becoming a Master.”
“What’s all this fuss about over a tower…”
“The girl’s got good looks. That’s what the young ones are into. A girl with no artistic sense!”
“…Hush. Be quiet.”
One of the old Nightmares brought a finger to his lips and a beautiful woman with a lovely dress walked behind them. They all became quiet at the sudden coldness. Only the sound of her heels echoed for a while and she walked up to the stage.
“Everyone, please welcome Sirwen Armelt!”
Young Nightmares shouted in excitement. Sirwen received the microphone from the host and glanced around the party. There were some new faces as well as the faces she recognized. There were also some that she didn’t want to see anymore.
‘Those old bums are here again.’
Sirwen frowned at the old Nightmares from the Union. They always joined the party to ruin it. They were old, but they did not become Masters. And now, death was waiting for them.
At the word ‘death’, memories swept through Sirwen.
‘No. Let’s not think about that.’
Sirwen calmed down and spoke.
“Everyone, eat, drink and enjoy. That’s all I have to say.”
Young Nightmares shouted again. Sirwen’s parties were always like this. She introduced her work and they enjoyed it. There were no boring lectures about the work. Attendees just enjoyed a good time at the party. That was all. But the host this time seemed to be shocked by Sirwen’s way.
“Huh? Is that it? How about some comments about your work or…”
Sirwen turned to the host. The host kept on going.
“This work is characterized by its contrast against the new world and the Tree of Imagery. It is complicated, so if you would explain the motive and…”
“No.”
The host became dumbfounded.
“What?”
“I won’t say anything.”
The host was shocked and confused.
“But you should… uh, everyone’s curious about the top floor of the [Nightmare of the Beginning] for example…. At least if you give us the theme of…”
“A theme?” Sirwen scoffed. “Why would I create a tower if I’m going to spill it all by talking? I can just talk about it without making it.”
“Y-yes, but…”
The host frantically searched through his cue cards and Sirwen spoke.
“If you want me to say something so badly…”
“O-oh! Please!”
The host smiled and looked at Sirwen, but she wasn’t there anymore. Or metaphorically at least.
She was looking for an old past. The time that most beings had forgotten now. The days when everyone fought to be a ‘being’. Many scenes flashed past her eyes.
“This is a tower for a certain person.”
After the [Fall] came, the Tree of Imagery was destroyed. Every being was present when it happened.
The branches and trunk fell down and the Tree of Imagery dispersed into silver.
Lords and Gods. Adapters and Awakeners. They all looked up at the scene. They felt the disaster they could never even hope to stop. Then they accepted it.
This was the end. This was how it all was going to end.
With an explosion, the world turned and everything was covered in silver dust. It took about one week for the silver dust to die down.
A silvery 7 days.
But even after that one week, people still survived. The beings that survived now realized that they were living in a ‘new world’. It was the creation of a mixture between , , and the . It was the world that had Gods, Lords, Adapters, and in one place. There was no Tree of Imagery and the world was free from the chains of the System.
New World.
People named the new world.
“You’re back.”
“Yeah.”
“How was the party?”
“It was the same as always.”
“Were the Union people grumpy again?”
“…”
“Don’t mind them. They always do that.”
“Yeah, and it doesn’t make me feel any better each time.”
Sirwen smiled and took off her coat, placing it on the chair of the hospital room.
“How’s your condition?”
“I’m fine.”
“Fine? You look like you’re dying.”
Sirwen looked at the old man lying on the bed. He had white hair and a wrinkly face. Time and age were ruining his body. Sirwen remembered the old man’s past of when he was a boy.
A rude boy from . A boy who was so stubborn that it was easy to tell whose Follower he was. The boy who acted like he was grown up was now a old man.
Sirwen caressed the old man’s forehead and thought about his name. As if she would remember his name after time was up, she thought about the name.
This old man’s name was Runald.
“Yeah. I will die someday, right?”
“Someday? I think it’ll be soon.”
“Ugh, don’t say it like that. I feel racism every time you say that, you know.”
“Haha…”
“Do you think Chunghuh would have felt it this way? Or Karlton…?”
“Runald.”
“Haha, I’m joking. Joking.”
Runald smiled, slightly shaking his lips.
“I’m just… scared. Unlike Chunghuh, it’s the first time for me… to die. It will be the first and last.”
“Don’t be stupid. It’s the first time for everyone.”
“Sirwen. What do you think death is? Is it returning to nothing? Is there nothing beyond this world? No memory, spirit or…”
Runald’s lips then soon became silent. It seemed like he was out of his energy. Small, shallow breaths were heard. Sirwen caressed Runald’s forehead with a sad look on her face.
“Kid, that’s what makes us human.”