Soul's Eye

Chapter 1: Taste

The taste was strange.

It was both sweet and bitter. Sweet and sour. A chaotic mixture of every sensation.

Like honey left too long in the sun. Like a flower burned from the inside.

As if I were tasting every memory I had ever lived — all at once.

It was unbearable. Disgusting beyond words.

And yet… my body refused to expel it.

It forced me to accept it.

The fruit coated my tongue, slid down my throat, and sank into my lungs.

It wasn't just a taste.

It was a sensation. A weight. A slow wave of frost and fire rolling through me.

It hurt. But I didn't want it to end.

There was something strangely familiar about it. Something that felt like a part of me, like… me.

My limbs tensed. My spine arched.

And then the world began to disappear.

My head went blank — and in that last instant of lucidity… something cracked open.

Tears welled up in my eyes. My lips trembled.

And I whispered, without even realizing it:

"...Elya?"

When I regained consciousness, night had fallen.

The sky was an ocean of light. Endless constellations gravitated around an immense, brilliant, too-perfect moon.

I froze.

A shiver ran through me. Something... was wrong.

And then, memories came flooding back. A rain of flames, the destruction of my city, the death of everybody, of...

My stomach churned.

'Forget it! Forget it! Forget it!'

I wasn't able to think about anything. I just felt useless, alone in the world, empty. I had nothing left. Nothing.

My city, my world, was gone.

'The city has fallen.'

This thought crashed into my head like a cannon shot, reverberating in my mind with unheard-of violence.

I wanted to cry, to collapse in tears, to expel everything in my heart.

To free myself of everything.

But I didn't even have enough water left to cry.

I was pathetic.

I swallowed the acid burning my throat. Vomiting would have been a luxury.

Every ounce of energy counted.

I have to survive. I have to survive. I have to avenge you!

In an instant, everything was gone. The beauty of the night sky, the softness of the grass beneath my feet, even the memories of that man — all evaporated in the haze of destruction.

Nothing existed. Nothing made sense.

All that remained was me and the devastated city.

My thoughts fell silent, swallowed up in a silent abyss.

A mixture of bile and blood burned my throat, the heat of the liquid devouring me from within.

I swallowed hard before throwing myself forward.

I ran. With all my might.

I had to find my father, I thought maybe Elya was with him, maybe they were waiting to me at home maybe all of this was just another vision.

My heart was racing. Every pulse ready to explode under the pressure.

Every breath was a torment, my lungs writhing in silent agony, my exhausted muscles threatening to betray me.

But I didn't care.

I ran.

Until my body couldn't keep up.

My legs gave out. I collapsed — on all fours, short of breath, hands trembling against the ground.

I let myself succumb to exhaustion for a moment.

'No. I can't give up.'

I retched, the acidity tearing at my throat. My wounds flared from the inside.

Burning tears rolled down my cheeks. My face contorted in pain.

I gritted my teeth.

This was no time to weaken.

I straightened up, wobbling, and resumed my run.

My limbs refused to obey, but I had no right to stop. I'd never forgive myself.

The gigantic walls of the city loomed before me. Once majestic — now scarred.

Filled with a grandeur I'd never understood. Now reduced to silence.

A twinge of sadness gripped my heart, but I had no time to lose myself in nostalgia.

As I made my way through the devastated streets, bitterness washed over me.

Every alley, every corner was a gaping wound — a broken echo of my past.

The shopping streets my father cherished were overrun with bodies and blood.

The cobblestones, a sea of crimson, stretched as far as the eye could see.

In the central square, the white roses where my sister once listened to the wind were stained scarlet — like an evil omen.

The fountain, adorned with the statue of my mother, was broken.

In the stagnant water floated a severed head — an apparition in the mist of despair.

The air was saturated with the metallic stench of blood — unbearable, mingled with terror and pain.

I walked past the streets my father used to wander, past my sister's favorite shops, through every place my mother once loved… until I reached my house.

The gate was twisted. The walls cracked.

The garden — once verdant and bright — now stained in a sinister red.

Dozens of armored bodies lay among the withered flowers.

I refused to believe what I was seeing.

My vision blurred. The world froze — suspended in an unreal horror.

But I couldn't give up.

I stepped through the broken doors,

past shards of glass and the debris of a shattered life.

I gritted my teeth.

And I kept running.

Through the hallway.

Past shattered memories and collapsed walls.

Step after step. Breath after breath. Pain after pain.

Until there was nothing left to run through.

I stopped.

There, in the ruins of what used to be my living room, sunlight filtered through the broken ceiling, painting pale stripes on the ash-covered floor.

I looked around.

The bookshelves had collapsed.

The fireplace was cracked open.

The carpet was soaked in blood and rain.

And in the middle of it all — my mother's pendant. Laid out on the table. As if it had been placed there — waiting.

I stepped forward, hesitant, afraid the image would vanish.

My fingers reached. Touched.

Closed around the silver chain.

It was warm.

Too warm. As if someone had just worn it.

My hand trembled.

And then — I couldn't breathe.

Something inside me curled, tightened — like fingers pressing inward from beneath the ribs. The pressure grew, slow and unnatural.

The room began to spin. My knees gave out.

I collapsed.

My fingers clawed into the ash — hot, pulsing, alive.

And then I heard it.

A voice.

Calm. Precise.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up."

I froze.

Someone was there.

Standing just beyond the fractured doorway.

Tall. Cloaked in something dark, damp, dripping.

His eyes caught the moonlight like glass.

"You've made quite a mess, you know."

I couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

He tilted his head — the way a craftsman might inspect a broken tool.

"Come on now. You're not supposed to be here anymore."

And just behind him...

My father's body.

Painted crimson.