Lore
-Day 1-
I see nothing. No light, no shape—nothing to prove I even exist. I can’t hear, can’t feel. There’s no voice, no body. Just the void. Terror coils inside me but I can’t scream. I can’t move. Time means nothing here. For all I know, I’ve been suspended in this emptiness forever. My thoughts spiral endlessly. Did I make a mistake? Is this punishment? Is this… hell? The last thing I remember is being on the battlefield.
-Day 10,957-
A light. Faint, far away. I can’t move towards it. I can’t move at all. Maybe the gods put it there to mock me—a false hope, dangling just out of reach. Still it’s something. The first stimulation in what feels like eternity. But is this all there is? Me, the void, and a flicker of unreachable light?
-Day 10,958-
The light remains. It hasn’t moved. It reminds me of a firefly—small, but somehow comforting. It doesn’t speak. Doesn’t change. But…it exists.
-Day 11,001-
Something changed. A tingle—paresthesia, maybe? I remmber disliking that sensation, but now it feels like a gift. Does this mean I have a body? I still cant see or touch anything, but to feel something…it’s hope. Maybe things are finally changing.
-Day 12,656-
I’ve thought about everything. Every possible thing. There’s no one to talk to. NO response. Just me and the damn light. The silence is unbearable. My thoughts are so loud they’re drowning me. I just want it to end.
-Day 13,873-
I heard something. Faint. Almost imaginary. But it was there.
-Day 13,888-
It’s clearer now. A phrase—repeated. Still hard to make out, but I’m sure it’s speech. Someone—or something—is trying to reach me.
-Day 13,890-
Alice. That’s what I heard. Is that my name? It has to be. I’m the only one here. Alice. It’s…nice. It feels right.
-Day 13,891-
“Wake up.” I keep hearing it. Over and over. Does that mean I’m asleep? How do I wake up when I can’t move, can’t see, can’t even think straight? Is there a door? A memory? A key? Nothing works. Nothing.
Alice searches for an escape. She clings to the voice, the name, the phrase. But no answers come. Just silence, and time.
-Day 13,899-
A memory. A battlefield. I don’t why I was there—but I remember it was important. Vital. It felt like the world was at stake.
-Day 13,900-
A word echoed through my mind today. Kismet. It weighs on me. I don’t know why, but just hearing it makes me angry.
-Day 13,901-
Kismet. Fate. Destiny. Maybe I hate it because this is my fate. To waste away in the void, waiting for a light that never comes.
-Day 13,902-
Kismet. Kismet. Kismet. There’s something more to this word. I’m sure of it. I dont’ understand yet, but I will. I have nothing but time.
-Day 13,904-
Kismet. It’s not just a weapon. It’s mine, but not in the way most people carry knives or blades. I didn’t hold it with my hands. I held it with threads.
-Day 13,905-
The memory is clear now. My hands would stay open, relaxed, but from each fingertip would bloom a glowing red thread—shimmering like silk in sunlight. They stretched out, impossibly long, impossibly strong, and wrapped themselves around Kismet like a puppeteer’s strings. That’s how I wielded it. That’s how I fought. A dance of fate and steel.
-Day 13,906-
People used to call it magic. Others called it a curse but the truth is, I was born with it. I could move things with my mind, yes—but only when I bound them to me with the threads. They weren’t visible to everyone. Only those attuned to power. Most people just saw the blade flying through the air—spinning, slicing, returning like it had a will of its own. But it was always me.
-Day 13,907-
Kismet responded to those threads. It only responded to them. I tried once to give it to someone else. Let them use it but the moment it left my threads, it became inert. Just a piece of metal. Kismet was bonded to my will.
-Day 13,908-
The battlefield comes back in fragments. I remember being at the center—calm in the storm. The enemy surrounding us. My allies falling one by one. And Kismet—dancing in the air like a red-winged wasp—spinning between bodies, guided by my threads. Each kill was a thread pulled tight. Each dodge a weave in the fabric. It wasn’t a fight. It was a tapestry. And then—the final move. The threads burned bright. And I cut something else. Not a person. Not a structure. I cut the world.
-Day 13,909-
I don’t know how to explain it. Kismet sliced open something unseen. Like pulling a seam on the edge of reality. A rift opened. Cold, white, and hungry. And it took me.
-Day 13,910-
The voice is back. It says, “We can’t hold the line without you. You were the last piece.” I think…Kismet wasn’t meant to end things. It was meant to pause them. To buy us time. And now…time’s up.
-Day 13,911-
The void is stretching thin. I can feel the threads again. My fingers itch. The light is drawing lines in the dark, tracing invisible paths—like fate trying to reconnect itself.
-Day 13,912-
I whispered the name again, Kismet. And this time my threads appeared. Red. Brillant. Alive. They flickered from my hands, searching for their missing partner. And in the distance—far, far off—something flicked open. Clack. The sound of a balisong locking into place.
-Day 13,913-
I see her now—Kismet—suspended in the air, floating like a memory that refuses to be forgotten. The threads stretch between us, warm and taut. We’re back in sync.
-Day 13,914-
Tomorrow, I will cut my way out.
-Day 13,915-
I woke up. But not like waking from sleep. I cut my way out through the fabric of the void. My threads carved a path. Kismet spun like a compas, pointing the way. The light shattered around me, folding into the seams of space—and then…
I fell.
Into color.
Into noise.
Into life.
-Day 1-
(Section in progress.)