Chapter Text
Sua’s death carves out a hole in Mizi’s chest, in the shape of cracked porcelain and fists bloodied by grief.
It hurts, not because she didn’t see it coming, but because she did. She watched as Sua set up her self-fulfilling prophecy, following through like it was a step-by-step instruction manual. Every time she wanted to say something, her voice would get stuck in her throat, restrained by the faux innocence she held onto from her childhood.
Mizi’s actions are not righteous. They are revenge, and they are repentant. There is no beauty in the way she sets bruises onto Luka’s skin—she’s seen the clips of her brutal take down, and how her true nature was revealed in those few moments. The news described her as insane. A defect. Like a monster.
She always knew that she harboured something ugly underneath. Was it worth it, then, for Sua to have died for such an impurity?
(Is it love, too, for Mizi to be so furious?)
Hyuna once told her that love is born from sacrifice.
A cruel statement, truly. To love and to die for it, especially when you’re unsure what the outcome of that is, seems terribly ridiculous.
Sacrifice is not love. It is punishment for the survivor, and escape for the dead.
Still, Mizi can’t resent Sua for her decision. She had every opportunity to stop her, and she never did. Instead, she let Sua pretend, pretend that this will all be for Mizi’s good, and pretend that this isn’t her excuse to escape from the inevitable grief she’d go through had their roles been reversed.
Because humans, Mizi has learned, are selfish.
She knows because she’s seen it firsthand. The guards at Alien Stage are human. The contestants at Alien Stage are willing to step over each other’s bodies just to live another round. Even the rebellion members, who operate 'for humanity', are willing to sacrifice hundreds if it means a potential future.
But for as long as humans live on, the cycle will repeat. Selfishness is ingrained, simply a part of their race.
Mizi knows, because she sees it every time she looks in the mirror.
So she lets the world burn. The stage she once dreamed of conquering, the people she once believed could be saved, she brings it all crashing down in the wisps of raging flames. The heat licks at her skin and she can feel it peeling off and there’s debris falling and people screaming, but she doesn’t even care, can’t even make a sound.
For just a moment, though, she feels peace. Within the hellfire and the light dancing in her eyes, she holds a warm weight on her lap and lets her final tears fall. It’s the last of her sympathy, bloomed from a love she no longer has to give.
She’s not sure if Till is saved. She doesn’t think she’ll ever find out, but if Sua’s death taught her one thing, it’s that miracles do not exist.
There is a stinging pain in the side of her neck when Sua wakes.
Everything feels heavy. Her bones weigh down like a ton of bricks, succumbing to gravity, and even lifting a finger takes a ridiculous sum of energy to do so. Her lips part, but her eyes do not, and someone takes in a gasping, weak breath.
It takes her a while to realise that it’s her.
Consciousness slips in, but it takes time. She doesn’t know how long she spends just lying there and struggling against her imaginary restraints. She can hear a beeping noise by her side, unsteady and grating, and the quicker she gulps in her breaths, the louder it gets.
Something grabs onto her wrist. She tries to scream and flinch away, but all she manages is a measly twitch.
The person lets go, and she can hear footsteps racing away. It makes her frown—she should be dead. There is no afterlife, no Anakt, no comfort in lying in her grave. Yet her lungs ache with every breath she takes, every breath she shouldn’t be taking.
The memories begin to flood her head. She remembers pink cosmic dust framed in sparkling yellow eyes, with a smile so enchanting it could illuminate the universe. She recalls desperate whispers before that, a harsh push against a wall that’s still sore in her shoulder blades.
Sua knows the exact steps that led her to her death, because she planned every single one, so why is she—?
“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar, gruff voice states. Like it’s a fact, ascertaining that this isn’t a hallucination. “Don’t try to move yet. Your body is weak.”
Who are you? Sua wants to yell. Take me back. Let me die. I should be dead.
Her death guarantees Mizi’s survival. Her death guarantees a world where she doesn’t have to live without Mizi.
So if she’s still here, alive and breathing, then…
Sua’s eyes finally rip open. Through a force of desperation or something else, she doesn’t know, but her head spins the moment light enters her vision, and she isn’t sure what to focus on.
The ceiling is bare. Grey. The pillow around her face is beginning to feel sticky, like she was sweating into it. Something is holding her body down—she tries to look, but she is unable to tilt her head down.
“Sua, correct?”
Her eyes dart to the source of the voice. There is a man standing beside her, his arms crossed and half his face covered with a cap. She tenses, wondering who this is.
A guard at Alien Stage, perhaps? Was she taken away by humans? Try as she might, she doesn’t remember anything that happened after the bullet was fired. Maybe she was brought to a safer area and healed afterwards, but that’s—
Implausible. Alien Stage has no mercy.
“We found you pretty late, so we weren’t sure when you’d wake up. Can you speak?”
Sua’s lips part. A low, weak breath falls from her tongue.
“Expected. It’s okay. Dewey, help her sit up, I’ll go get water.”
“Yep,” a new voice replies, and Sua stiffens when there are unfamiliar hands on her again, rougher and bigger than before. She’s more carried up than supported up, but she lets herself be handled until she’s sitting straighter, head tilted against the wall.
Like this, it’s slightly easier to breathe. It’s also easier to look down and see the straps holding her wrists down, keeping her stuck to the bed.
She almost wants to laugh. What, like she was going to run away? She’s never been particularly impudent, even when she was alive.
“You probably won’t be able to walk for a while,” Dewey says as the other guy leaves the room. “When Isaac comes back, we’ll update you on everything.”
Sua thinks, truthfully, that she doesn’t care to know. She doesn’t know who these people are, and even if they do not harbour ill intentions, she does not want to be a part of them.
She gave up on life and avoided the consequences, but now she feels like she’s been forcibly dragged from the dead, her spirit kicking and screaming. Maybe this is her karma.
Instead of trying to speak again, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
The rebellion barely has two feet to stand on, let alone march forward, and yet, they persist.
Sua has been introduced to the remaining members of the rebellion—she’s not sure why Isaac said remaining with such a bitter tone, but she did not ask. She is able to speak normally, which is a surprise, according to some of the medics on the team.
You were shot right at the throat, they told her. You’re lucky your vocal chords weren’t damaged.
Of course Sua knows this. She spent her whole life practicing to let the bullet fly towards her neck.
“We’ve been on the move for a while,” Dewey is telling her, one hand around her arm to guide her through corridors she doesn’t recognise and past doors she’s not allowed in. “Only some of our medics and people stay at this base here. It’s the safest one, hidden underground.”
She nods minutely. Doesn’t really process where he’s going with this, or what he’s trying to tell her.
“Our main group is always on the move. You’ve already met Isaac and I, but there’s a few others who aren’t official members. We’re picking them up in a bit.”
She nods again. Really, what is she supposed to say?
Sua planned the steps to her death like it was a dance with the devil, poised and controlled, the threat always looming over her head like a distant shadow. She planned the before, the build-up, and the during, but she never thought there’d be an after. Now that she’s here again, beating heart and all, she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do.
She could join the rebellion. It was an offer placed immediately, and if Sua were a less selfish woman, she’d have agreed, feeling indebted. But she never asked to be saved, and so she doesn’t actually feel like she owes them anything.
She supposes that’s one of the uglier parts of her. She thinks she’d be better off still dead.
“Ah, this is one of our hangout spots.” Dewey stops in front of a door, nudging it open with his foot. Through the crack, Sua can see a few couches, all battered and patched up, plus a table. “You can wait here. I’ve got recon to do, but I’ll come back with dinner for you, okay? You should rest.”
Sua bows in gratitude. When Dewey leaves, she steps into the room, closing the door gently behind her, and stares blankly for a moment.
It’s definitely not as clean or neat as her room back in Anakt Garden. She goes to sit on the couch, clicking her tongue when some of the torn leather digs oddly into her thigh. There’s a deck of cards on the table and a lone pair of sunglasses next to it. Ahead, a television sits on its cabinet.
Sua doesn’t know how long she sits there, just wondering what she should do. She’s never been good at relaxing—unlike Mizi, who was so good at being carefree, Sua could only fall back into her chains and routine.
A hand rises, brushing against her neck. She can feel ridges on her skin, but she hasn’t had the chance to see herself yet.
Just as she’s about to stand up and walk towards the television, hoping to take a peek at her reflection, the door handle rattles. Sua stiffens up like a board, whipping her head around, just in time to see the door swing open and—
Her breath hitches.
Till stands before her, one hand on the doorframe, eyes wide with shock. He’s sweating a bit, chest heaving, and the black shirt he’s wearing clings to his skin.
Sua, she sees Till mouth, lips shaping over the syllable of her name.
How is he here? Sua remembers that his first round in Alien Stage was after hers, but she doesn’t know how far he advanced. Does this mean he won? Does this mean Mizi is—
Till stumbles in and closes the door. His shoulders are visibly shaking, and when his lips open again, no sound leaves his throat. It’s only then does Sua’s eyes fall to the side of Till’s neck, and she instantly notices the lack of his branding there, replaced by a set of wonky, sharp scars.
“Till,” she murmurs. Her voice is low and awkward from lack of use, much unlike the angelically soft one she used to sing with.
He drops down next to her. The seat indents as he does, though Sua isn't sure why she notes this. Maybe it’s to confirm to herself that Till is actually real, and not just a ghost she’s seeing.
She watches as Till reaches into his pocket, pulling out a notepad and a pencil. He flips it open, and the papers fly by quickly, but Sua catches sight of many odd scribbles. When he arrives at a blank page, Till writes: I didn’t know you were alive.
Sua wants to laugh. Yeah, she didn’t know either.
She wonders why Till is writing instead of speaking. She wants to ask, but Till’s pencil is moving again before she can. His strokes are rapid, but his fingers are trembling. Perhaps it’s because of Sua’s presence.
Sua wouldn’t say there were best friends when they were growing up. They were always together by association, plus Till was always hovering around Mizi, so it’s not like she never noticed or even spoke to him. But proximity does not equate to intimacy, and the air between them feels strained at best.
Till suddenly shoves his notebook into her face, so quick she jerks back and almost hits her head in the process. Her vision blurs as she tries to make out the words. Till’s handwriting has never been the best.
Mizi is alive.
Her breath catches in her throat.
Till’s hands are still shaking, and despite her hesitance, Sua reaches out to hold onto his wrist. They’re both cold to the touch, but it steadies his trembling fingers, and Sua brings it down to rest on his lap.
She knows she has a lot to catch up on. Till probably chose to tell her this, specifically, because it’s what she would have wanted to know the most. She hadn’t even realised how terrified she’s been at the possibility of Mizi being dead, of her efforts all being for naught, until the relief washes over her right now like a tidal wave, practically choking her with it.
Another thought crosses her mind just then. She looks at Till carefully, who’s fiddling with his pencil and paper, an old habit he’s always had when he was thinking hard about what to write or draw.
Her lips part. “…And Ivan?”
Till’s jaw locks. A tired look fills his eyes as he shakes his head, just an inch, and Sua doesn’t need to know much else.
“Okay,” she whispers, folding her hands over her own lap. It’s not that she expected all of them to survive—hell, she’s surprised that three out of four of them are still breathing, but a small part of her did wonder. Ivan has always been the best, most well-behaved pet out of all of them. She expected him to last the longest.
Well, not that any of that matters now. What’s gone is gone.
Till stands up just then, turning, and Sua’s eyes catch onto his scars again. Her own branding, etched deep into her skin, burns.
Or, maybe it’s not there anymore, just like Till.
When Till leaves, he does so without a sound, so unlike the fierce and passionate boy Sua once knew. It’s like he’s been stripped of everything that made him who he was. A blank canvas.
Sua wonders if that is happening to her too. When you die and leave behind everything you’ve ever known, what does it mean to return? What are you, if not nothing?
Eventually, Sua is caught up on all the news.
She watches the video of Mizi’s takedown against Luka. She watches Ivan get shot in the neck, blood coating his perfect skin as the light leaves his eyes. She watches Till get shot too, the same way they all did, and the stage goes up into flames a mere few seconds later.
It’s titled as the ALNST Tragedy. There are no mentions of Mizi other than the fact that she’s missing, and that she’s been dubbed The Witch. A small part of Sua wonders if Mizi is capable of surviving by herself out there, someone so naive and emotional, but she stops herself from going down that train of thought soon after.
She knows better. Mizi has mentioned it before, how Sua knows the ugliest parts of her and still treasures her like a God. Sua didn’t question it back then, but now she knows what it truly means to devote endlessly.
Watching Mizi on screen, her face twisted into the strongest expression of fury and hair an utter mess, Sua still thinks she looks ethereal.
Which is why, when Isaac asks her what she wants to do in the rebellion, if she joined, she replies with unwavering conviction—
“I’m going to find her.”
Isaac stares at her for a long time after, his lips pulled into a grim expression. It’s like he expected this, but Sua doesn’t care if she’s being predictable. They’re both in a meeting room right now, sitting on opposite sides of the table, and the distance between them somehow feels as wide as a chasm even though they’re practically only a metre apart.
“We don’t dictate what our members do, as long as they are on humanity’s side,” Isaac says. “You can do what you want. But if you bring her back, we will not house her.”
Sua bristles. “Why not?”
“She made it clear where her priorities lie. She does not stand with us.” Isaac glances back, where a wall of posters stand. “Hyuna gave her a chance, back then, and she betrayed it. We won’t accept her again.”
Sua wants to explode. A ball of fury builds in her throat, threatening to burst, but she swallows it back. She already feels like she’s asking for too much—it’s unladylike to be so demanding.
But for Mizi, she’d be selfish.
“Mizi did what she thought was right,” she argues, even if she doesn’t know for sure what Mizi’s reason to burn the stage down was. “She was just— angry, but she isn’t a witch! Don’t treat her like she isn’t as human as the rest of us—”
“She’s the reason Hyuna is dead!”
Sua lets out a shaky breath.
Isaac is gripping onto the edge of the table so tight that his knuckles are turning white. He’s glaring, eyes hardened, but when Sua looks closely, she can see the pain in his eyes. It makes her heart ache.
She doesn’t know what it means to grieve. She avoided it on purpose. Somehow, she thinks watching someone else grieve is worse.
“…She’s the reason you tried to die, too,” Isaac murmurs. “I’m not saying I don’t understand why she did certain things. But for the sake of the rebellion, and to make sure what Hyuna and Jacob spent so long building up doesn’t go to waste—”
Isaac uncurls his fingers. He sets his elbows on the table. Clasps his fingers together, eyes shadowed, and looks straight at Sua.
“—I will ensure that the witch does not hurt us again.”
Sua’s own eyes well up with tears. She feels the need to scream, or break something, or whatever.
But she’s never been a violent dog, so she bows her head and leaves the room, hoping her silence speaks for itself.
“Hey, Sua,” Dewey calls, poking his head into the room. He has a plate of fruits in his hands. “Here. Some of our dudes found a shit ton of these. I brought some for you.”
Sua watches as Dewey enters her room, setting the plate on the table next to her. Her knees are curled up to her chest, hugged by her arms.
She nods once in thanks, then waits for him to go. He doesn’t.
“Um…” Dewey starts awkwardly. A hand comes up to rub at the back of his neck. “I know you’re still new and all, so it’s probably hard on you. But I just wanted to say that even though Isaac comes across harshly, he really cares about the rebellion and the people. So don’t let his words hurt you, okay?”
Sua scoffs. It’s not as issue of whether or not Isaac cares—it’s evident in his every breath that he does. She could never fault him or accuse him of not caring enough.
It’s the fact that he, and probably half the universe too, doesn’t see Mizi as human anymore.
“I’m sure Till will be on your side once he gets better,” Dewey adds. “In fact, Mizi was the one to ask Isaac to save him. He wouldn’t be here without her, so he probably feels indebted.”
Silently, Sua thinks that Till would save Mizi no matter what, for reasons similar to her. Out loud, though, she says nothing.
“Ah, well! I think I’ve said too much. We’re having dinner and karaoke in the dining room later, if you want to join us. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” He pats her shoulder. The touch doesn’t sting, but it doesn’t warm either. It just feels empty.
“Okay,” she replies, and to appease Dewey so he’ll leave her alone faster, she picks up a slice of fruit and pops it into her mouth.
The weeks pass by. Sua doesn’t do much other than remain in her room, only coming out for food or to shower. The rebellion is decently equipped down here, an actual solid base with water and electrical supply. Even just by existing within it, she can tell this place comes from years of effort and fighting.
Sua also finds out that her room is right next to Till’s, but they don’t visit each other often. Maybe they should. She thinks he could use the comfort, at the very least—hears him awake in the middle of the night breathing raggedly, but she doesn’t know how to handle that. They both have their own demons to fight.
Sua herself doesn’t sleep much. Perhaps it’s the unfamiliarity of it all, being away from the faux grass and clear skies. It’s terribly ironic, but freedom makes Sua feel trapped. She’s been forced away from her routine and tossed into something real, and suddenly being presented with autonomy on a silver platter doesn’t mean she knows how to use it.
It’s one of those nights right now, cold biting at her skin when she pushes the blankets off her body, her feet padding on the freezing floors. Her eyes are heavy with exhaustion, but sleep hasn’t taken her for the past few hours, so she’s given up. She creeps out of her room and feels the shadows of her guardian following her when she walks through the corridors, chiding her for ruining her body. Sleep is necessary for clear skin and staying presentable. She’s making trouble for everyone who has to deal with her—
A soft hum fills the air.
Sua pauses, feet skidding to a stop outside of Till’s room. She eyes it suspiciously, wondering if she’s just hearing things, but then the hum comes again, louder, stronger.
The song he’s humming is in a tune Sua doesn’t recognise. Till is probably just up writing again. She should leave him alone, go find something else to do.
It’s nice that he’s still able to hold onto his hobby, Sua supposes. It’s not that Sua never liked singing, but she never had the same passion for it that Till did. She wrote perfect songs and sang them in perfect key because that was what she was expected to do. Till did whatever he wanted instead, actions rooted in rebellion, and they just so happened to please the segyein sometimes.
Hah. Maybe he fits in here a little more than her, then.
Sua’s hands rise to her elbows, hugging herself. She doesn’t have her own hobby to distract herself with or just to let time pass. Whenever she was bored back in Alien Stage, she’d just go find Mizi.
…Maybe that’s her answer.
It’s stupidly reckless. Sua doesn’t know what the outside of this base looks like. If she leaves now, she might trigger some sort of alarm at best, or at worst, somehow put them all in danger. She should turn around right now.
Her feet do not budge. Stuck at a crossroad, Sua feels like she’s about to—
The door slides open. Sua jumps, stumbling back just in time to see Till breathing heavily, his hand holding him up against the door frame. His eye bags are dark and his hair’s a mess, and Sua’s hands come up to her own hair unconsciously.
“…I was getting water,” she lies. Looking past his shoulder, she can see a vague silhouette of a guitar, but he clearly wasn’t using it. “You, um… You sounded nice.”
He flinches at the weak compliment. Sua sticks her tongue between her teeth and bites down.
There’s a little bit of shuffling before Till procures his notebook, flipping through it. Compared to the last time she caught a glimpse at it, there are a lot more pages filled up, most with his scrawled handwriting, but Sua’s eyes catch onto many drawings as well. She can’t perfectly make out what they are, but she thinks she spots a flower, at least. Not one she recognises, though.
Till writes: He quietens when I sing.
Sua frowns. She has a feeling she knows who he refers to, but she’s not sure if she wants to ask.
Till writes some more: Do you want to join me?
This time, Sua arches an eyebrow. Her instinct is to reject—she’s been pushing people away ever since she got here, despite the kindness they’ve granted to help bring her to recovery. But then she thinks of what else she would have done, had Till not caught her trying to sneak off, and guilt eats away at her heart.
So she agrees, entering the room. She sits on his bed, Till picks up the guitar.
At the first few notes Till plays, Sua recognises the song.
They’ve sung many songs together growing up in Alien Stage, some meant as a choir, some as a duet, and some alone. This one, specifically, is a song Mizi loved. It’s a solo song, with an upbeat tune that takes an excitable voice to perform. Despite that, Mizi always insisted on singing it as a duet with Sua. Sua never took the original key, though—she’d harmonise, letting Mizi’s voice take the lead, and admire her quietly as she smiled like the sun.
It feels weird when the verse starts to leave her lips, so familiar yet never heard of with her voice. The way she enunciates certain words, the way her voice trails off, it’s all different. She can’t replicate way Mizi sings it. But Till continues to strum the guitar like it’s an old friend, swaying to the beat, and Sua’s eyes slowly begin to prick with tears.
Damn it. Mizi isn’t dead. She made sure of it. Why is she crying like more than just her name has been buried?
When the song comes to an end, Sua’s chest shakes with the breath she takes. She curls her fingers into the sheets, fiddling and kneading, and the silence eats at her skin. Till has stopped moving too. The song hangs heavy in the air, despite the purpose of it to cheer.
Finally, Sua dares to break it. “Till,” she requests, looking him straight in the eye, “find Mizi with me.”
Till exhales slowly. He reaches under his bed, pulling out a box, and Sua eyes it curiously. The box is placed in between them, landing on the mattress with a soft thud. It doesn’t sound like there’s much in there.
When Till opens the lid, though, Sua gasps.
There’s an entire stack of magazine clippings and news articles inside. The one on top is a cutout of Mizi’s face, more specifically her wanted poster, depicting her in tears with a hood over her head. As Sua digs through it, more and more clues show up. Some claiming where Mizi was last seen, some theorising places she frequents, dozens of pictures of her last sighting in Alien Stage, the scar she left on the universe like a legacy…
“How long have you been collecting these?” Sua asks, unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Does Isaac— Do the rebellion know?”
Till shrugs. He sets his guitar to the side, picking up his notebook again.
They do. But we can’t start searching any time soon.
One of the clippings she’s holding crinkles. “Why not?”
Till digs his teeth into his lower lip.
It’s a mess out there.
He doesn’t write much else. Sua lets the words sink in, trying to make sense of it all.
It hits her, then, the true extent of Mizi’s actions. And it feels a little belated to only realise it now, but if Mizi is on the run, then search forces must be all over the place. If any of them try to leave now, they’ll probably be caught in an instant.
“I see,” she relents, eyebrows pinching together. Ugh. Her head is beginning to hurt. She rubs at her temple, closing her eyes.
She opens them again when she hears scratching noises, waiting for Till to finish writing. She never did get around to asking what happened to Till’s voice—they suffered the same damage, as far as she knows, and her vocal chords are unharmed. But his alternative is pretty effective, so she decides that it’s none of her business what he chooses to do.
When it’s safe, I promise I’ll find her with you.
Sua stares at the words, barely readable in the dark, but so heavy in their weight. She nods, not trusting herself to not cry if she opens her mouth. She hasn’t cried in a long while.
Till nods back, giving her a hesitant smile. Maybe, one day, she’ll be able to return it.
The months fly by, with Sua slowly getting more and more used to the inner workings of the rebellion.
There’s no official joining process—she doesn’t need to sign a form or perform a ritual or anything like that. The day she feels she’s officially joined is when she’s learned how to ride a hover bike, fast enough to escape the segyein and swiftly enough to steal food. Apparently the most important things. The joyride is a side effect.
Dewey is the one who teaches her, alongside Till, who is learning how to ride a motorbike. They’re practically the same, according to Dewey, it’s just that the hover bike can raise a few inches off the ground. When Sua is considered decent at it, she earns a slap on the back and a hearty laugh.
She gathers skills she never thought she’d be allowed to do. Skills her guardian would have considered damaging to her reputation and mind, ruining her quiet and sweet persona that she’s meant to uphold both on and off the stage. One rebellion member teaches her to collect wood and build a campfire. Another member teaches her how to handle blood and patch up injuries.
Despite all this, though, Sua has never been sent on a mission. She and Till are both still considered too new for this, so she spends her days holed up at base, helping with food or safety where she can. She knows it’s the least she owes them, despite not feeling so before.
Finally, one day, when Sua is alone and folding laundry in the living room—a massive mountain of clothes that seem to last forever—she turns on the television and almost drops the jacket she’s holding.
There on the screen, written as breaking news, is a new Mizi sighting.
It’s undignified, the way she stumbles towards the television and squats in front of it, mouth hanging open in disbelief. The footage must’ve been taken on accident, as it only shows a shadowy figure for a brief second. About half the figure’s face is captured, but it’s all burns, making her almost unrecognisable.
But the hair and posture, the way this person walks, it is all unmistakable to someone like Sua.
It’s Mizi. She’s alive.
What feels like rocks press against Sua’s throat as she watches the few second clip. The report states her to be alone and wandering aimlessly. She has no weapons on her, but she’s evasive, disappearing from frame a few seconds later.
This is all Sua needs.
As terrible as it sounds, just being told Mizi was alive wasn’t enough. The news could fabricate anything. Till might’ve kept the truth from her to prevent her from breaking down. The possibilities are endless.
But this, Sua knows. Sua’s soul knows that Mizi is out there, and she will do anything to bring her back. Her life, which has been so bleak since she awakened, floods with colourful purpose.
Inside her head, an innocent, childlike voice whispers, “You have to live.”
It’s more of a plea than a simple request. Sua pictures the wide, hopeful eyes she spent so long staring at when growing up, framed by round glasses and blush pink hair. If she closes her eyes, she can paint a picture of that young girl with vibrant vividness, and she shudders, like she feels Mizi’s spirit in the room with her right now.
“I promise,” she answers, fingers trailing on the screen, “I’ll find you.”