Inheritance of ash

play pretend...

Vicky's eyelids fluttered closed again, and the darkness of sleep swallowed her whole.

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else.

A room stretched endlessly in every direction, walls, floor, and ceiling all made of mirrors. The reflections multiplied her image, dozens of versions of herself flickering in and out of focus. It was dizzying, surreal — like stepping inside a fractured memory.

She blinked, trying to steady herself. The air was cool, the silence deep, but she knew she wasn't alone.

A voice, soft and familiar, whispered around her, though no figure appeared.

"Little star."

Her heart caught.

The voice was gentle — warm, like a cloak against a cold wind. It wasn't just any voice. It was his voice.

She swallowed hard and whispered, "Who are you?"

There was a pause, then the voice circled her again, never quite coming into view.

"Little star, do not cry."

She bit her lip, eyes glistening. "I want to know who you are. I want to know who I am."

She paced slowly, the reflections multiplying with every step. "Are you... Thor's brother?"

Still, no answer.

Her breath hitched. "Are you my father?"

The silence felt heavier than any answer.

Tears threatened, and her voice cracked, angry and desperate. "Why don't I remember? Why do I have these other faces in my mind? Faces of parents who... weren't you?"

The mirrors flickered, her reflection fracturing more violently, as if the room itself was struggling to hold together.

She whispered, almost pleading, "Who are you? Please... tell me."

The voice softened again, a whisper closer now, as if just behind her.

"Little star, I am always with you."

"But who?" Her hands trembled as she reached out to touch one of the mirrored walls, her fingertips trembling against the cold glass. "What's your name? Are you... Loki?"

For the first time, a figure appeared, a shadowy form in the distance — a man with kind eyes and a trace of a smile. Yet his face remained elusive, shifting like mist, never fully coming into focus.

Still, his voice was certain, tender.

"I'm always here, even if you do not remember."

Her chest tightened, tears spilling freely now as the overwhelming ache of unanswered questions crashed through her.

"I'm scared," she whispered brokenly. "I don't know who I am. I don't know why I'm here."

"Shh," the voice soothed. "You are my little star. I have never stopped watching over you."

She sank to her knees, clutching the bracelet on her wrist as though it might anchor her to something real.

"Please," she begged, voice trembling, "tell me your name. Tell me if you're really my father."

But the figure only smiled sadly, fading into the shifting mirrors.

The room dissolved around her, the fractured reflections blurring into darkness.

⸻

The soft pulse of the bracelet against Vicky's wrist was the only thing steady in the quiet room. Her eyelids fluttered open, but the weight in her chest didn't lift. Tears spilled over before she could stop them, trailing down her cheeks in the dim light of the evening.