Roads go ever ever on...

Greetings! I am Pjotrs, and this is my cozy little corner where autumn never ends. 🍁🍂 Here you’ll find my stories, essays, and personally narrated podcasts, audiobooks, and audio dramas. I have a deep love for science fiction, fantasy, and RPGs, as well as a keen interest in linguistics, languages, literature, and yoga. I speak Russian, Polish, English, Estonian, Latvian, Portuguese, and Spanish (though these days it might be more accurate to call it “Portuñol”). I could also mention HTML, CSS, and JavaScript among my languages, but that might provoke a few raised eyebrows among fellow linguists.

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Journey to the Sunrise is an atmospheric audio fiction series about roads, railways, distant horizons, and the quiet search for meaning.

Set in a world suspended somewhere between memory, dream, and reality, the story follows travelers, wanderers, and ordinary people whose paths cross forgotten stations, silent forests, lonely cities, and places that seem to exist outside of time itself.

The first chapter of an atmospheric coming-of-age journey filled with nostalgia, wonder, and the promise of discovery.

A young traveler sets out on a journey toward the sunrise, following railway tracks that disappear into the distance. What begins as a simple trip soon becomes something far more personal—a passage through unfamiliar places, fleeting encounters, and quiet moments of reflection.

Written, narrated, and sound designed by Pjotrs Ijevlevs. No AI-generated text, voice, or audio was used in the creation of this series.

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Forgive Me

A dying soldier lies beneath a crimson moon, impaled by a sword and left alone with his memories. As blood seeps into the grass and the stars begin to shine above him, he is forced to confront the choices that led him to this moment.

A story about war, regret, forgiveness, and the possibility of redemption even at the very end of one’s journey.

Written, narrated, and sound-designed by Pjotrs Ijevlevs. No AI-generated voices were used in the creation of this episode.

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“Who are you?”

And what if the answer isn’t yours?

PARAMIND is a psychological cyberpunk story set in a quiet, grey world reminiscent of the early 2000s. A withdrawn student begins to notice something wrong — with reality, with memory, and with himself. Then a second voice appears. And it knows more than it should.

This release features a live human narration of the original text — no AI voices, only real performance and immersive sound design.

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Fox Street — Chapter One

Returning to memories of his youth in Tartu, the narrator recalls a quiet street, a fox that appeared at unexpected moments, and a mysterious man whose shadow seemed to belong to something else entirely.

The first chapter of a nostalgic coming-of-age story about memory, growing up, and the strange encounters that stay with us long after childhood has passed.

Written, narrated, and sound designed by me. No AI-generated voices were used in the production of this story.

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Moon Ghosts

On a night of moonlight and fog, a traveler searching for answers finds shelter in an isolated monastery. There he hears an old story about pale watchers who appear between the living and the dead.

A nostalgic and dreamlike short story about wandering, memory, and the longing to understand the unseen.

Written, narrated, and sound designed by me. No AI-generated voices were used in the production of this story.

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Beowulf: The Symbolism of the Names

We inhabit two universes - the physical realm and the realm of symbols. Symbols have surrounded humanity since the emergence of Homo sapiens, from the ancient days of shamanic tribes to our modern era. As Roland Barthes once stated, anything can become a myth because myth is an integral part of communication and language.

"Every object in the world can pass from a closed, silent existence to an oral state, open to appropriation by society" (Barthes R).

In today's world, media and journalism serve as the primary vehicles for disseminating symbols. In ancient times, the main source of myths was oral expression - tales and poems passed down from generation to generation.

Beowulf is one such example.

This epic poem from antiquity serves as a record of tales known to all. It is not a historical chronicle but rather a book of archetypes.

Beowulf and Grendel are two adversaries with a profound symbolic connection. Beowulf, the fearless and mighty warrior, is the sole individual capable of defeating dragons and any monstrous creature. Grendel, the accursed giant and descendant of Cain, terrorizes kingdoms and strikes fear into the hearts of all, except for Beowulf.

But why do I believe there is a connection between these characters? To comprehend this, let us explore what lies beneath their names. One possible etymology of the name Beowulf is "bee-wolf" or "bee-hunter," which essentially means "bear" (https://www.behindthename.com/name/beowulf). Of course, this is not the only interpretation, as there exist other theories regarding the name's origins. While I will not list them all, I can assert that a common connotation unifies all the etymologies - an underlying sense of savagery that reflects the primal power of the character.

On the other hand, we have Grendel, equally powerful and untamed. The name Grendel signifies "fierce" or "angry" and may be related to the Old English word "Grendel" as well as the Old Celtic "Grindill." Both terms denote "storm" or "hurricane" and accurately capture the nature of Grendel (Andrew, Roland). Grendel shares the untamed essence found in Beowulf.

Beowulf and Grendel possess distinct similarities akin to night and day, sunset and dawn. They are part of nature, and their names aptly reflect this reality. Although written during the Christian era, the poem retains these pagan vibes and a worldview that perceives everything as part of an eternal flow of natural processes.

Works Cited

Andrew, Roland. The Poems of the Pearl Manuscript. University of California Press Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1978.

Barthes R. Mythologies. The Noonday Press – New York, Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1972.

Behind the Name. https://www.behindthename.com/name/beowulf

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Our dreams and what they may come

Since childhood, many of us have dreamed of having superpowers. Some of us grew up with adventure stories and comic books about people with extraordinary abilities. We wanted to fly, be invisible, read minds, move objects with telekinesis, or simply have impossible physical strength.

However, how many of us have thought about how we would use our superpowers if we had them? You don't have to rush to answer because it requires deep reflection about yourself, your intentions, wishes, and passions that may be hidden deep in your mind. A few years ago, I would have said that if I had superpowers, I would use them for good. Now, I'm not so sure, even though I can't call myself a villain in any way.

Ask yourself, what do "good" and "evil" mean? We don't live in the world of comic books. Reality is much more blurred with many moral issues. Is it good to kill someone? Most of you would probably answer "no" and be right! However, if I were to ask you about killing someone to save your life or that of a loved one, you wouldn't be so sure.

Some of us may have read the Spider-Man comic book and remember the famous phrase, "with great power comes great responsibility." However, not everyone may recall the original source of this quote. It was actually said during the French Revolution and can be found in a collection of decrees made by the French National Convention:

"The people's representatives will reach their destination, invested with the highest confidence and unlimited power. They will show great character. They must consider that great responsibility follows inseparably from great power. To their energy, to their courage, and above all to their prudence, they shall owe their success and their glory."

The French Revolution is a good example of how our understanding of "good" may clash with another people's principles. The same can be said for any past revolution. Is it good to abolish a monarchy? Is it good to take the lives of many people in the name of Liberty?

On the other hand, we can ask those who are against any kind of revolution, is slavery and injustice tolerable in the name of harmony and stability? There are many questions and answers, and a bottomless pit between "good" people. Very often, there is no conflict between good and evil, but instead, a struggle between order and chaos, between absolute and relative, microcosm, and macrocosm.

"Chaotic" creatures are often considered tricksters, and our cultural history presents various images of them. The myth of Prometheus is one of the oldest, with mighty gods representing the unity and harmony of things, and tricksters living on the periphery representing chaos, multiplicity, and ambivalence.

Prometheus is the protagonist in most literary works, and Lord Byron once wrote:

“Thy Godlike crime was to be kind,

        To render with thy precepts less

        The sum of human wretchedness,

And strengthen Man with his own mind”

Prometheus was a hero for most poets and writers. However, in "Theogony" written by Hesiod, he is depicted as a negative character and a fraud. Other interesting examples of tricksters are Loki and Reynard. Both brought so much disaster, but at the same time, they exposed the wrongs of their society (for example, Reynard confronting the ignorant king or rude wolf).

I do not believe in universal good or evil, but I still have my own subjective sense of justice. I believe that most things are relative, and good deeds in one situation may be bad in another. If I had superpowers, I probably wouldn't consider myself a hero or villain, but rather someone on the border, a trickster.

Pjotrs Ijevlevs

Reference list

1. Quote Investigator. Retrieved from http://quoteinvestigator.com/2015/07/23/great-power/

2. Collection Générale des Décrets Rendus par la Convention Nationale. 1793. Quote Page 72. Retrieved from https://books.google.ee/books?id=D55aAAAAcAAJ&q=ins%C3%A9parable&redir_esc=y#v=snippet&

3. Byron G. G. Prometheus. Retrieved from https://englishhistory.net/byron/poems/prometheus/

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The universe on the periphery

On "The Game of Contemporaneity" by Kenzaburo Oe

The subject of the encounter between the absolute and relative, massive and small, microcosm and macrocosm isn't new in world literature. Moreover, it isn't new for world culture, for the archetypal collective unconsciousness. The myth about Prometheus is the first one that comes to my mind. The mighty gods representing the unity and harmony of things and tricksters, living on the periphery and representing chaos, multiplicity, and ambivalence.

Our history presents contradictory images of tricksters. Loki and Reynard were the most ambivalent of them. Both brought so much disaster, both lashed out against the wrongs of their society (Loki blaming the gods in Lokasenna, Reynard confronting the ignorant king or rude wolf). Regarding the story of Prometheus, there are two ancient plays. The first one is "Theogony" by Hesiod, where Prometheus is depicted as a negative character and a fraud. The second is the tragedy "Prometheus Bound" written by Aeschylus, in which Prometheus assisted mankind, brought them fire, and was unjustly punished by the gods.

There's one character, one universe, but contradicting depictions: the absolute universe of the Olympic gods and the world of mankind. Such images could be applied to our lives and history. The great empire and small province or independent city-state are one such example. And both things have their own prophets.

Yukio Mishima was the prophet of the Olympic gods; he poetized imperial mightiness and power, he dreamed about the Golden Temple and felt sorrow for its decay. His opponent, Kenzaburo Oe, the modern Aeschylus, believed in another Japan. He didn't see the Golden Temple in history but the microcosm created by The One Who Destroys (壊す人). God and demon share a face with two sides, healer and trickster. It is not good nor evil because there is nothing absolute. This is how the writer saw the history of Japan and how he depicted it in his novel "The Game of Contemporaneity" or "Dojidai Gemu".

It is not accidental that I mentioned Yukio Mishima in this text. The Mishima incident, when he and his followers performed public seppuku, was the key moment for Kenzaburo Oe. In the end of the 1970s, the writer was in India, and there he heard about Mishima's death. Oe said that Mishima's action encouraged him to "search the multiform centrifugal model of the world as a counter to the centripetal one – the cultural scheme of absolutism demonstrated by Yukio Mishima" [Kenzaburo Oe; "The experience of contemporaneity concept," 1987].

Of course, the Mishima incident was not the only source of inspiration. The concept of the village-microcosm also has its origins in Diego Rivera's mural "Dream on a Sunday Afternoon in the Central Alameda" (Sueño de una Tarde Dominical en la Alameda Central).

When looking at a mural, you are able to see all the complexity, simultaneity, and ambiguity of history. First is the history of Mexico, maybe one of the reasons why the central location of Oe's novel is a Mexican village. As historical South America opposed the Spanish Empire, the small village-microcosm is opposed to the Empire of Japan.

The novel is in four letters, written by Tsuyumi to his sister Tsuyuki. Since childhood, Tsuyumi had the obligation to tell myths and legends of the microcosmic village in Mexico. His sister Tsuyuki was raised as a priestess of the One Who Destroys. It was not a wishful future for them.

They tried to run away and in order to reject their future and agreed on incest. They expected that something so immoral could break all the bounds. But nothing changed, no one paid any attention to their action as no one pays attention to a child's spree.

So now Tsuyumi is a teller and lecturer in the microcosmic village. The place, with its unique history, is intimately intertwined with myth. The legend tells that the microcosmic village was set up by the creators ruled by the One Who Destroys. The days of creation are depicted in the image with naked people wearing loincloths.

The One Who Destroys is the One Who Created, the One Who possesses the secret of immortality is the One Who knows how to kill an immortal. At different moments of his existence, he is depicted as a man, as a trickster god and cultural hero, as an immortal giant, and as a poor little being. The One Who Destroys is a leader loved by his people and a dictator hated and killed by them.

The story of the microcosmic village is a story where you are not able to discern where fiction ends and reality begins. Perhaps there is not an essential difference between myth and reality. Once, J.R.R. Tolkien argued with C. S. Lewis, saying that myth is not a lie, it is rather a way of describing Truth. Maybe this idea is close to that of Tsuyumi. Why did he believe that it is so important to save the legends and stories of the microcosmic village? Maybe these myths are the source of life of this land. Maybe the real death of the village is not physical death but obliteration of the legend about creators and about the One Who Destroys.

Despite the fact that the main allegory of the novel is the history of Japan, the image of the microcosmic village is universal. The myth about the One Who Destroys is not linear, but it clearly depicts the phase of beginning, development, flourishing, and decay. In the Age of Freedom, the creators were wisdom giants, and the One Who Destroys was the leader, close to them and loved by them. When the Age of Freedom ended, there was the Age of Decay, where creators became small, and the One Who Destroys became a dictator and lost his feedback with his people.

He wasn't interested in the needs of his people but only in his own ambitions. He even forgot the language of his people and governed by inventing a new one. He governed to build the Road of the Dead. It was an absolutely meaningless project and did not bring anything except the fulfillment of the dictator's ambitions.

But the youngsters followed his demands with zealotry and hated the elders. They heard his voice with pleasure, but for the elders, it was disgusting. The youngsters forced the elders to build the Road. This Age is depicted as an image of hell.

The next phase: the One Who Destroys is hated by everyone. He is alone, isolated, and completely forgot human language. The One Who Destroys, an immortal lonely dictator, lives somewhere in the mountains. Everyone looks for a way how to kill an immortal one. The One Who Destroys shares the secret.

He was killed, and they cut his body into pieces and ate it. Such a metaphor could be best understood in the context of all of Oe's writing. One of the central themes of his works is young people and how easily they can be deceived by different "leaders" who promise them the new world and a rebuilding of society but who actually care only about their own interests and ambitions. It is clearly depicted in "Silent Cry."

The lack of feedback between leaders and followers is also greatly illustrated by the history of the uprising in the microcosmic village. All of them failed, and the only reason was this lack of connection. The writer completely understands the wishes of young people. It was very close to him. The wish for social change and greater justice, the wish for the destruction of the old unjust order, all of this was the main problem of Japanese youngsters and for Kenzaburo Oe as well.

But the main problem is the means of bringing that justice. The youngsters didn't have a certain or positive program, a sufficient theoretical base, or any clear and practical steps. This led them to different forms of extremism (far-right or far-left). The youngsters were put in a very tenuous position. They were prey for ambitious, selfish, and despotic persons.

The microcosm is universal, but in the layers of allegories, you could see the exact history of Japan. For example, there is a period when it was forbidden for the inhabitants of the village to have any contact with people outside. This story is reminiscent of the policy of isolation in Japan in the 17th century.

Many more analogies could be found; the microcosmic village is Japan and the whole world at the same time. It repeats the key moments of Japan's history, but the general historical vision is universal. More importantly, the novel is optimistic. Despite all the darkness and evil throughout the history of the village-microcosm, there is still hope that the new One Who Destroys will come and bring back justice and the Age of Freedom.

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Sadness inspires

Liina Soosaar writes about the world famous photo artist Alexander Gronsky and his debute exibition in Estonia. In the basement hall of Tartu Nooruse Gallery, the series of photographs "Pastoral I" (2009–2012), "Pastoral II" (2008–2011) and "Reconstruction" (2013–2017) were showcased by Moscow photo artist Alexander Gronsky from April to May of this year. Born in 1980, Gronsky’s Estonian origins are often mentioned – an artist born in Tallinn to Russian and Ukrainian parents that are still living in Tallinn. However, like many creative young people, he left his homeland long time ago, looking for a life elsewhere. In his pastoral photos, taken in the Moscow suburbs, we see a familiar scene, how high-density housing is mixed up with the wildness of nature, just as Le Corbusier had predicted. The future of Paris has been completely realized in Moscow (and elsewhere). The artist says that he feels good in such an enviroment; he fits into this grotesque landscape more than anywhere else. He shows us its poetic beauty. His outwardly random footage has a lot of details. There we can see grimace, different objects, poses, colours, and falling light. We can even feel the breeze of the windy air while watching. As soon as Gronsky leaves his room, he starts his work. His pictures are impressions of a lonley wanderer going places where, at first sight, there is nothing to see. But that’s exactly why it is so beautiful. It’s not an ordinary beauty. Seeing these sad and dreary houses is like getting lost somewhere deep in the woods together with all their residents. These houses are colorfully stretched out around the shrubs, wastelands, between the cranes like animal tracks on a construction site. His „Pastoral“ series reminds one of a collection of essays „Non-Tartu“ (Tartu: Topofon, 2012) by Sven Vabar, where the author tells strange stories about how he is inspired by such places, places where city meets field. The series is also reminiscent of a novel „Autumn ball“ (Tallinn: Eesti Raamat, 1979) by Mati Unt. In a fragment about Tallinn panel housing, the author says, „in every one of these damn boxes lives a person who wants to be happy“. The Moscow suburbs are much bigger, but likewise inspiring. Sadness inspires.”

Translated from Estonian by Taurenildo

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Eternal path beneath the veil of night,

beneath the starry curtain,

a forsaken wanderer sings a song,

crossing the lunar mountain.

Ever in love with dancing sails,

a singer of all who've wrecked,

who lost themselves in the fog and rain,

enamored with the scents of the track.

The endless road feels like a home,

while the fire turns in your hands,

crossing sacred forest domes,

and an endless blue ocean span.

No matter what you may find ahead,

just sing the bard's song of the unknown,

the song of joy for those who are doomed.

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Snowfall

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Essay - “The Game Without Exit“

The Game Without Exit

On “Battle Royale” by Koshun Takami

  The 20th century was an age of dystopia, where the world survived only by a miracle, and it led to reflection in literature. Japanese writers were not an exception to this rule. In a previous essay, I wrote about "Dojidai Gemu," which was not exactly dystopia but had some elements of it. It reflected the history of Japan, from ancient times to the present, in the language of myth.

"Battle Royale," written by Koshun Takami, is also a kind of reflection on history and modern Japan. But this story does not delve too far into the roots of history, rather it emphasizes the 20th century. The novel tells about an alternative reality, where all the actions take place in the Republic of Greater East Asia, ruled by an authoritarian government and a mythical "great dictator."

I said mythical because such a person does not exist at all, perhaps he existed in the past, but now he is like the Big Brother from Orwell's "1984." The central theme of this novel is Battle Royale - a game where junior high school students are forced to fight each other. What is the goal of this game? Throughout the story, the main characters ask themselves about it, but there is no final answer. It could be the perverted application of samurai principles, which were an important part of the state's propaganda. It could be the wish to alienate people from each other to better control their lives. Lastly, this game may not have any goal and was just a part of the bureaucratic mechanism of the state.

The last moment greatly reminds me of the Road of Dead in Oe’s “Dojidai Gemu”. The meaningless action represents the final collapse of society and life. I don't know if Koshun Takami read “Dojidai Gemu” or not, but there are close motifs, such as a lack of feedback between the state and people, and between generations. The story also tells of the alienation of people from each other, breaking all bounds, which leads to cruelty and inhumanity.

The game is forceful, and the students follow the rules, killing each other, and even alliances are flimsy. You could always expect betrayal, not knowing who is a real friend and who could secretly kill you in your dreams or while you eat. And most importantly, such alienation starts from a young age. What type of personality could become the “winner” of this game?

There have been many imitations of this novel after its publication. “The Hunger Games” was the last one, and all of them borrowed the concept of a death game with young participants. However, none of them put attention on the important social aspect of this story

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Naoko; Prologue

Colorful twilight of the evening greeted Naoko as she crossed the Bridge of Friendship. She loved this place with its cartoon-like green box buildings, roads near the river, miniature playgrounds, and the lights that illuminated the area. She walked here alone almost every evening, finding solace from the world of numbers and symbols. It was a time for her mind to focus on the world around her, if only for a moment, before it was interrupted by the stream of memories. Uncertain. Misty. Fragmented.

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Entering

Into the void he enters, Among the crowd, he walks.

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When sunrise falls down

When sunrise falls down, dreary white flows on my window. The ghost town.

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The waterfall

I have a strange feeling - something like a void and despair. What was it? Was it just a dream? Can I still deny the truth, the knowledge I gained? Sure, I can't. But it was so unreal, so... oh, I guess I have to look back to realize all that happened to me and my world... with our world.

But what is the reference point? I guess it is the moment of my emergence in reality when my consciousness was just a little kernel in the void. There were no leaves, no petals, or stems - only a small kernel of "myself" wandering in the endless void, seeking an exit. A pure and hopeless creature with a dark present and a nebulous future.

And then I opened my eyes. It was the first time I saw this world, but at first, I didn't realize what it was or how it was. I grew up in a calm and peaceful time and didn't know anything about the war, like most of my peers. All we knew was about the far-off lands of Sharra, where there was a hundred years' war. We knew how hopeless, violent, and meaningless it was, but we had never seen it.

The people of our land, Inmaatel, lived in peace for a thousand years. That's what our teachers told us. It was not entirely true, but it was a fact that neither my parents nor I had seen the real war.

My town, Linma, was near the capital of Inmaatel - Saire. My town also had another name - Soama - which means "the land of the sun" because of the hot summer and warm autumn every year. Lanes and alleys with stony roads, small shops, street merchants, pubs, buskers, low houses, shining sky, and sea air. That was Saire, that was Soama.

There was nothing extraordinary about my childhood. I had a best friend named Tai-sho. He was one year younger than me. His parents were immigrants from the Eastern Republic of Niiroshio, but Tai-sho himself grew up in Saire and didn't even know the Niir language. Despite his eastern look, we were very similar, and some people even thought we were twins.

We had our own "Secret Kingdom" near the abandoned old railway station. There was also a river and a forest, and that was our refuge, our personal another world. We liked to play there, exploring and seeking evidence of the "lost civilization of Winged Squirrel People" and the "Great treasure of Nut Kingdom."

I can't remember anything dark in the story of our childhood. Those were cheerful days full of wonders. Well, maybe I idealize a little... Actually, there were some weird incidents. One of them was especially bizarre. Once we were playing a bit closer to the end of the railway line, and suddenly Tai-sho stopped moving.

When I asked him "what's wrong?" he didn't answer. He was standing there, without any movement or words, staring at the forest. He didn't react to my words, and suddenly, he started to go. His face was as if enchanted. He was only watching the deep forest and going there, like something was calling him.

I figured out that I couldn't do anything with him and just went behind him. The forest was dark and misty, inviting and daunting at the same time. Most of Linma's citizens were not there, and it seemed they pretended that the forest just did not exist.

So, it was the first time we went inside. When we entered the thick foliage, the sun disappeared, and there was mist and grave silence all around. Despite it being a summer day, there was a cold that crept into our bones. It was hard to see anything because of the fog, but it seemed like Tai-sho knew exactly where we should go.

I followed him, and time seemed to stop, stretching into eternity. It felt like we would never stop and that this road was endless. I forgot everything else; I was in a trance and didn't even realize that my friend was gone. I was completely alone in the cold fog, and I didn't hear any voices or sounds. Even when I tried to call out to Tai-sho, I didn't hear the echo of my voice.

The place was so cold and dark that I surrendered to despair. All I could do was keep moving forward because everything around me looked the same. The white mist and rifle-green foliage were all I saw. I don't remember how long I wandered, but suddenly I noticed a strange twinkle deep in the fog.

It only lasted for ten seconds before disappearing. After a few seconds, it appeared again and started moving. I followed it. That little twinkle was my last hope, the last piece of light in the forest full of darkness and cold. The fog started to disperse, and I saw something new and unbelievable.

The figure was surrounded by light, with long hair as white as early snow, wearing a ghost-like dress. She was a girl, beautiful and young, yet unreal. Although she seemed like a ghost, she was so full of life. A shining smile graced her face, but there was a slight shade of sadness. As I approached her, she turned to face me, and I felt myself falling into the abyss of her moon-like eyes.

"Lonely soul in the endless ocean of Rathai. What did you lose? What do you seek here in the Anneb?" she said.

Her voice echoed like silent water or a gentle breeze. I couldn't understand her words, as I had never heard of those names before. Her manner of pronunciation made me think of ancient languages. I had always thought it was just a legend, but in that moment, I heard those words.

"I am looking for my friend," I finally answered.

"Don't worry about him. He was just fascinated by the Laix. He will wander in the Anneb, but he'll find the exit eventually," she replied.

"What are you talking about? What is the Anneb? What do all these words mean?" I asked, still confused.

"The Anneb is the place where you are, where I am. It is the Grand Workshop," she said.

"The Grand Workshop?"

"Here is the Beginning of all things, here is the End, here is Life, Death, and Rebirth. Here is the core of Rathai."

"What is Rathai?"

"Your question is meaningless. Rathai is you, Rathai is me, Rathai is your friends, your family, your city, your country... everything. Just look around you, and you will see that all is Rathai.”

She spoke in a strange way that I didn't understand. She didn't give me straight answers, instead she spoke mysteriously.

"Follow me, Wanderer. I will show you the way," she said.

"Which way?" I asked.

She didn't answer, she just turned and began walking. Her light was my only guide, my last hope of finding an exit. I submitted fully and followed her, completely under her power. Eventually, we arrived at a lake, and in front of us was a waterfall. She entered the water and reached out her hand to me. As I touched her graceful palm, I felt warmth spread throughout my body.

I forgot everything and didn't even realize how I fell into the water, or how she pulled me into the waterfall. My memories began to fade. All I remember is what happened after. Actually, there isn't much to say, because I can't recall everything that happened right away. Life resumed as normal for me and my friend.

I can't say that there was anything unusual that happened after that. I was growing up, my life was changing. I went to high school, and then to the Academy of Liberal Arts. It was there that I met Aya. She became my best friend, companion, and love. This black-haired, thin girl with a serious face and a tattoo on her neck was the only person so close to me, so like-minded.

At the end, she had become my wife and we started living together near the Aete River. That was my life: calm, silent, and usual. There were no wars near me, no tragedies, or anything like that.

So why am I here now? Why is everything vanishing and why am I wandering in the void? My memories are fading away, cracking like the sky now, like the buildings and homes in my town. And I am alone again in this misty wood, the only safe place left in this world. The sun has faded, but there is no darkness. I see ghostly fireflies flying around in this cold mist.

There is only one way. As the mist clears, I see the lake and waterfall again. It has not changed; it is the same as it was in my childhood. There is no way to escape, no other safe place left in this world. So, should I go into the waterfall again to see this nightmare? Or will I see something else besides the ruins under the black sky?

I don't know, but I still want to go there, and I will do it. Epilogue The full darkness and absolute void enveloped me, and I felt nothing. Neither pain nor joy nor sadness. Was I dead?

Suddenly, a bright light illuminated everything around me. What is this place? It looks like a massive library. No, "massive" is not a word that can describe this place. The roof stretches into infinity, and there seems to be no end to the bookshelves. And who is this girl? She looks so familiar, as if I met her in a distant past. She sees me too. She approaches me, and now the memories come flooding back to me. It is the shining girl from the forest. She hasn't changed; she is still as young and beautiful as she was in my childhood. This ghost from my past looks at me with her sad smile.

"Welcome back, my old friend."

"Was I here before?"

"Yes, but then it was only for a moment. Now, this is your new home."

"What are you talking about?"

"The Rathai is renewing its cycle, as it ever was."

"It means..."

"There is the end of your world and its rebirth. The sun has faded, the sky is cracked, and all the earth is in ruins. The Grand Workshop is starting its work."

"You speak strange things to me..."

"Well, you have all eternity to learn a lot of things you didn't know before. I will teach you here in the library."

[laurerusco]

Macro