Morningstar

[CH. 0001] - The Initiation

"He was still too young to know that the heart's memory eliminates the bad and magnifies the good, and that thanks to this artifice we manage to endure the burden of the past." ― Gabriel García Márquez

Nord's awakening was a slow ascent from the depths of slumber, accompanied by a throbbing ache in her head— as if reminiscent of a hangover's aftermath. Yet, her mouth held a lingering sweetness, as if kissed by the refreshing touch of mint and caressed by the subtle warmth of sun-soaked earth. The warmth of her bed contrasted with the eerie chill that permeated the room. As she blinked her eyes open and rubbed away the remnants of sleep, her surroundings greeted her with an emptiness that seemed to stretch into the void.

Sitting up, she cast her gaze around the room, searching for any sign of life beside her cat, stretching at the edge of the bed. The emptiness seemed to echo back at her. She couldn't understand what was missing.

With a yawn, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. The cold floor sent a shiver up her spine, making her acutely aware of the room's unwelcome frigidity. Why was it so cold?

As her eyes adjusted to the light filtering through the curtains, she scanned the room once again, her gaze pausing on the emptiness that seemed to hang in the air.

Making her way to the closet while her cat, Kirara, rubbed herself against her ankles, she opened its doors in search of her outfit for the day. But a strange disarray greeted her—half of her closet space stood bare, while the other side was crammed with clothes pushed to their limits.

Confusion knitted her brow. How could her belongings exist in such disarray?

It was then that she realized her state of undress, clad only in an oversized t-shirt that belonged to someone else. The disorienting reality left her momentarily stunned.

"Hello?" Her voice pierced the quiet, reverberating within the walls of the apartment, but the emptiness remained unbroken, a silent witness to her solitude.

Frustration crept in, her senses heightened by the bizarre circumstances that surrounded her. "Is anyone there?" But her words were met with the same unyielding silence.

A sudden, unpleasant sensation underfoot jolted her senses. She looked down to find herself stepping on something slimy—something that, upon closer inspection, revealed itself as a used condom.

Her shock was audible in her muttered exclamation. "What the fuck?"

The room seemed to close in on her, its emptiness taking on a sinister edge. Her gaze darted around once more, searching for any sign of an intruder or an explanation for the unsettling scene before her. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

The silence remained unbroken, a haunting reminder of her solitude in this bizarre reality. The soft hum of the kitchen lights greeted Nord as she stepped in, a sanctuary of familiarity and routine. The methodical process of making coffee – the aromatic grounds, the hiss of the kettle, the warm mug cradled between her hands – always brought a comforting cadence to her world. However, the sight of her packed suitcase and Kirara's travel box disrupted the ambience. The juxtaposition of the every day with the evident signs of an impending journey created a silent tension in the room. The odd thing was, she couldn't recall when she had packed. Had it been the night before in a bout of unexpected efficiency? Or perhaps in a dreamlike state, her subconscious preparing her for the journey ahead?

As she reached for a mug, the emptiness of her cabinets loomed at her. The shelves, which should have been a mosaic of cups and dishes, looked like they had been robbed of half their contents. Yet, as she mentally catalogued the items, everything seemed accounted for. There was no tangible absence, but the unsettling feeling persisted.