In the quiet stillness of the nocturnal forest, a monstrous form perched atop the mightiest tree, silhouetted against the luminescent moon. Its lean, tapered figure was grotesquely humanoid, a mockery of the familiar, its surface catching the moonlight with a glossy, obsidian sheen. The moonlight filtered through the translucent wings that sprouted from its back, casting an eerie glow and a spectral shadow that darkened the forest floor below.
Its head was eerily insect-like, and from it extended a long, needle-like appendage that glinted ominously in the moonlight. The creature's large, compound eyes reflected the moon's glow with an otherworldly red luminescence.
Below the eyes, a slick black proboscis tilted this way and that, its pointed tip flashing cold threats in slanted shadow and silver. The creature chuckled, a dry clicking noise like dead leaves whisking down church aisles. "Fufufu, I sense something...exquisite... It is a bit distant, but I can clearly feel it!" It opened its mouth and could not do other than drool. "TOMORROW I'LL FEAST UPON THEE!" With that, the figure jumped off from the tree as began to fly toward that mysterious reiatsu.
x-x-x
"As summer unfurls its warmth, bringing with it the sweet freedom of vacation, the triumph of successful final exams, and the exhilarating news of college admission, a profound sigh of relief escapes my soul as this wonderful season finally comes to a grief end. The incessant weight that once burdened my heart has been cast away, and even more so from my contemplative mind. No longer am I shackled by the ceaseless chiding of my ancients, their voices echoing the perpetual question: 'Why aren't you studying, you stupid brat?' or 'Do you wish to fucking starve, my dearest child?'
Yet in this newfound tranquility, I find myself wondering if, perhaps, I might one day find myself yearning for the cluttered moments of yesterday. Just as I now recall the times when I was enraptured by the ethereal allure of spirits, whose enigmatic existence once held my fascination..." The figure's brow furrowed at the sound - a discordant noise that bore no resemblance to the gentle patter of shower water against tile or its tender skin. An intuitive understanding of the unfolding situation stirred within, even as the figure's eyes remained closed.
„WHO ARE STILL FUCKING HARASS ME TO THIS DAY, AS MAY THE DESERT WORMS HADN'T ALREADY TRAVELED THROUGH THEIR MULTITUDE OF BRAIN FOLDS!"
The figure's frustration echoed through the steam-filled room, her voice a stark contrast to the tranquil hum of the water. In a swift motion, she reached out, her hand cutting through the thick mist, and with a sharp, decisive twist, the water ceased its flow. The silence that followed was almost deafening. With a forceful push, she thrust open the shower cabin door, the metallic clang reverberating in the sudden quietude as its blue eyes shot open.
These thoughts coursed through the labyrinthine depths of the figure, the young maiden's mind, as she attempted to emerge from the shower slowly, carefully, but alas, with all the grace of a log left to dry on the hills for two weeks, assuming it hadn't been pilfered by gypsies first. Fortunately for the lass, the steam was so thick, for an 'unknown' reason, you could hardly cut it even with a knife, let alone peer through the misty coat that veiled her more delicate, fairer, and flattish side.
Her long, silk-like, jet-black hair cascaded down her back, damp tendrils curling slightly at the ends. It framed a face that was youthful and full of determination, belying her tender age of nineteen. Her eyes, a striking shade of lapis-lazuli blue, bore a fierce gaze that could strike down the mightiest if she but willed it so as she scanned the humble bathroom.
„I heard you, you fucker!" She declared, her voice steady yet laced with an undercurrent of defiance. Her lapis-lazuli eyes continued to harbor that lethal glare as she extended her hand, groping in the dense steam for a towel, a beacon of comfort in these trying times, indeed. „Do not even try to hide...You fucking perv."
As her words echoed through the steam-laden air, a figure began to materialize from the right. A spirit, appearing to be in its forties, emerged from the misty veil. Its form flickered momentarily before stabilizing, a faint glow radiating from it. Its form, though ethereal, bore the unmistakable features of a man in his forties, the chains that tethered him to this world clinking softly as he moved.
The ghost, seemingly from the 19th century, was dressed in a high-collared shirt, a waistcoat, and a frock coat that seemed to float around its form. In response to her demand, appeared almost sheepishly. Despite its spectral form, it managed to convey a sense of surprise, its semi-transparent eyes wide and mouth agape. It seemed to realize that it had been caught in the act... What a weirdo.
"Ah, my dear, how did you perceive my presence this time?" The spirit questioned, a playful lilt in its ethereal voice. "I was certain I'd masked my existence quite effectively on this occasion.
„Your chains might as well be a marching band, you parasite. When will you give us peace?" She retorted her tone a mix of irritation and resignation.
„Oh, you are right!" The phantom guffawed, adjusting the spectral fedora that sat atop its transparent head. Its gaze then shifted, adopting a more solemn countenance. The only sound that dared disturb the mounting tension was the rhythmic pitter-patter of water droplets falling from the young maiden's raven hair.
"My dear maiden, I cannot depart from this place, as long as these chains still bind me so, remember?" The ghost jangled the spectral chains for emphasis, a mischievous grin spreading on its face. "And why, pray to tell, would I wish to leave when I have the pleasure of observing thee growth... although I must admit, thees most remarkable attributes appear to be... somewhat flat." Its voice dissolved into an ethereal chuckle as it playfully twirled a link of chain around an insubstantial finger, the spectral glimmer in its eyes unveiling its enjoyment in her vexation.
"That's the final straw, you jerk, YOU BASTARD!" She spat out, her face a mix of fiery indignation and embarrassment. A blush, as red as a ripe apple, spread across her cheeks, and her lapis-lazuli eyes sparkled with a mix of anger and humiliation.
Fury bubbled within her like a tempestuous sea, fuelled by his relentless teasing. She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white from the pressure. In her mind, she was more than ready to give the spectral entity a piece of her mind, if not a good punch, if the laws of physics allowed her, spoilers...
NO...
(Unless she fused her reiatsu into her fist... but let's not complicate things further ok?)
The ghost, taken aback by her sudden outburst, adjusted his spectral fedora, an action that would have been endearing under different circumstances. "My dear girl, I did not mean to offend thee," he said, his voice echoing with an antiquated, 19th-century lilt. He held up his ethereal hands, chains rattling softly, a spectral approximation of a peace offering. "Twas but a jest, I assure you."
But his words fell on deaf ears. Her embarrassment had spurred her anger, and the room seemed to tremble with the intensity of her wrath. "Enough with your 'jests', you leech! Respect is a two-way street, you know!" She retorted, her words slicing through the steamy air, punctuated only by the rhythmic drip-drip of water from her hair. "And it seems your road is about to hit a dead end," she added with a chilling finality.
Her hand closed around the doorknob, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere. "I'll be fetching the incense..." she declared, her voice filled with grim determination.
Her declaration hung in the air, a silent but potent threat. The ghost's playful demeanor vanished, replaced by an expression of genuine concern. The mischievous gleam in its spectral eyes dimmed, the ethereal chains that bound him suddenly growing heavy.
"Wait, my dear," he pleaded, his antiquated tone taking on a desperate edge. "I implore you, not the incense!" The ghostly figure seemed to shrink back, its hands raised as if to ward off the mere thought.
The memory of being confined to the attic a year ago was still fresh in the ghost's mind - a year of solitude, away from the world he was so curiously fond of observing. "I realize I've overstepped my bounds," he continued, the spectral chains around him clinking softly, mirroring his agitation. "But pray, do not condemn me to the attic again. The loneliness... it's unbearable."
Upon hearing his plea, The girl paused, her hand resting lightly on the doorknob. A slow, sly grin began to creep across her face, her eyes glinting with a spark of revenge that mirrored the ghost's desperate eyes. The tables had indeed turned.
She turned to face the spectral figure, her smug grin growing wider. "Oh, so now you're begging, are you?" she taunted, her voice laced with a triumphant glee. Her wet hair clung to her face, framing her smug expression and adding a 'dramatic' flair to the moment.
Her bright eyes were alight with devilish amusement, a wicked gleam that reflected the ghost's earlier mirth. "Lonely in the attic, were you?" she continued, her tone dripping with false sympathy. "Well, maybe that would make you think twice before you make your crude remarks."
She crossed her arms, her damp robe sticking to her skin, and cocked an eyebrow at the spectral figure. The room echoed with her triumphant laughter, a stark contrast to the ghost's earlier chuckles. Even in her fury, there was a certain humor in the situation - the incorrigible ghost, for once, was the one being teased.
However...
Suddenly, a familiar voice boomed through the house, its thunderous echo obliterating the silence. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU CACKLING ABOUT IN THERE?" The voice was like a thunderclap, powerful and authoritative, instantly wiping the smug grin off Timea's face.
"DID YOU NOT OUTGROW YOUR IMAGINARY FRIEND YET, TIMEA?" The voice was her father's, a man of few words, but when he did speak, he had the uncanny ability to make his presence felt even from rooms away, a man known for his gruff exterior and lack of patience for his daughter's 'fantastical' conversations.
Meanwhile, the ghost, who had been silently observing the exchange, let out an ethereal snigger. "Well, it appears you have bigger fish to fry than a harmless old specter like me," he quipped, his eyes twinkling with amusement. And just like that, the spectral figure disappeared with healthy laughter.
"Uh, no, Dad! I... I was just... uh... practicing a monologue!" she called back, scrambling to find a plausible reason for her laughter. She shot a quick glare at the ghost, who had already vanished.
"I'd rather stay silent next time. At least that wouldn't be as ridiculous as this excuse," Her father's reply echoed back, laced with his usual dry humor.
She sighed, shaking her head as she picked up a new towel to dry her hair. The ghost's laughter still echoed in her ears, adding to the lingering embarrassment from both her father and the ghost. 'Thanks a lot, Casper,' she thought sarcastically, using the name for the spectral voyeur...
As she continued to ready herself for the day, her mind was already plotting ways to get back at the ghost. 'Oh, you're going to regret this,' she promised herself with a determined nod, her reflection in the mirror nodding back in solidarity.
x-x-x
Timea Pechinez
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Blue
Occupation: University Student, First Year
Special skill: Ability to See Ghosts
x-x-x
Once the young girl finally prepared herself for the day, she slipped on a hefty white hoodie. In the center, a cute Teddy bear struck a serious pose, its arms crossed confidently. On its face, a stitch that resembled a scar, and over its eyes, a pair of black sunglasses. The bear's face bore an expression so grave, it seemed as if it were pronouncing doom, Below it, was a fancy text that read: "UnBEARable". Timea chose a pair of light-wash, distressed denim jeans that hugged her frame comfortably. On her feet, she sported a pair of well-loved, white high-top sneakers.
Draped around her neck, Timea wore a delicate silver locket, a cherished memento from her grandmother. Its simplicity was a stark, fragile contrast to her otherwise bold ensemble. The locket held within its tiny, silver confines a picture that was both a treasure and a source of heartache—a photograph of her grandmother and her mother together.
Her mother, whose life was tragically cut short by a sudden stroke shortly after Timea's birth, was a woman she could barely remember. Her face, captured in the faded photograph, was something Timea had no memory of in real life—an echo of a love she was too young to recall, a ghost of a relationship that never had the chance to fully form.
Yet, despite the pain of this absence, Timea felt a profound sense of gratitude. Gratitude for her mother, who, although she couldn't remember, she knew had loved her deeply. Gratitude for the brief moment they shared in this world, and gratitude for the life her mother had given her... and her name that even her grandmother brought proudly till this day.
"Alright, Dad, I'm heading out. My friends are waiting for me at the Platz," announced Timea, her voice still trembling slightly from the awkward predicament she had entangled herself in. From the living room, her father responded with a somewhat sleepy nod of acknowledgment as he read a newspaper. At least she won't be shouting to herself here, he thought with a hint of disappointment.
Timea's father, Florin, was a man of few words, but those few words were at least entertaining. He bore the hard lines and weathered complexion of a man who had toiled under the sun, his hands displaying a lifetime of physical labor. His hair, once a rich chestnut, had faded to a silver-grey, the same color as the stubble that often graced his square jaw.
"Don't linger too long, Timea," he said, not lifting his eyes from the newspaper. "We've got to get you to Miercurea Ciuc somehow. " He absentmindedly rubbed his chin, a grimace betraying his internal grumble about the monstrous fuel prices that lay ahead for him and his trusty old car. "Make sure you say your goodbyes... and remember to fetch Mónika as well. She's your classmate, and roomie isn't she?"
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he added, "I swear, that girl packs as if she's preparing for an apocalypse, not college. I hope she's already finished loading up her stuff, unlike a certain someone I know..." He cast a teasing glance over his newspaper in Timea's direction.
Timea averted her gaze, her eyes clouding with an unmistakable hint of discomfort and pain thinking about packing. It is not only a boring but an unbearably long process. "Yeah, about packing..."
His father sighed as he continued to read his newspaper. "Fine, I'll help, just go already." He scoffed.
A soft smile tugged at the corners of Timea's usually stoic face. Her father's willingness to help, despite his initial grumbling, stirred a warm sense of gratitude within her. "Thanks, Dad," she responded, her voice carrying a hint of relief. With a quick wave of her hand, she turned on her heel and darted out, leaving Florin alone with his newspaper and thoughts.
x-x-x
COOL_
x-x-x
The cobblestone streets echoed with Timea's determined footsteps as she made her way to the heart of the village square, the Platz bar. She was tinged with a mix of excitement and melancholy, knowing that this would be her final soiree with her closest companions before she embarked on the journey to university. The early afternoon sun cast long shadows, as the bar and its patrons basked in the warm, golden glow.
Sitting outside, ensconced in the gentle breeze, Timea spotted the familiar figures of her trio of friends. They were engaged in their usual pastimes, their laughter and chatter blending with the ambient sounds of the bustling square.
Mónika was unmistakable, even from a distance. Her hair, a dark waterfall of curls, tumbled over her shoulders, catching the sunlight and creating a halo of ebony around her. They cascaded down her back in a billowing mass, each curl dancing independently, yet harmoniously, with the others as she moved.
Beside her, Tibor towered over the table. His height was accentuated by his lean, lanky build. His sandy hair was perpetually tousled, giving him an air of carefree charm. His signature worn leather jacket hung loosely on his frame, disregarding the warmth of the afternoon, a testament to his nonchalant attitude and undying love for his beaten, yet beloved, wardrobe staple.
Completing the trio was the petite figure of Amelia. She held a cigarette between her meticulously painted fingernails with a grace that hinted at a profound sophistication beyond her years. Her words flowed like a melodious stream, punctuated by her animated gestures, as she held court with her friends.
Before they could spot her from their perch, Timea approached stealthily, a playful glint in her eyes. She gently poked Tibor's shoulder, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she slid onto the bench beside him, maintaining a casual, yet mischievous, demeanor.
"Hey Tibi Sex," she greeted him playfully, her eyes twinkling with a mirth that echoed in her voice. She then turned to the girls, giving them a casual wave, as she continued her jest. "Heard you had quite the adventure at the harvest ball last week."
"Hey," Mónika's response came in the form of a radiant smile, its brilliance competing with the sun's own luminosity. She returned Timea's wave, her hand moving in a light, airy arc. Amalia merely nodded, her attention momentarily diverted from her conversation to acknowledge Timea's arrival. There was a brief pause as she knocked the ash off her cigar, the sheer extravagance of which was impossible to ignore; I mean, like holy shit it was a fucking Cuban cigar, not every kid could possibly get its hands on. It is a wonder she wasn't beaten up or robbed of that treasure.
The playful jab hit its mark and Tibor's facade crumbled under the weight of the embarrassing memory. His face turned a shade of beetroot, his usual nonchalance replaced by a wave of chagrin as he was reminded of his drunken folly at the harvest ball. His features contorted into a grimace as he recalled the monstrous form he had found himself entangled with.
Well, there's no ugly woman, of course, only an insufficient amount of booze.
"Please," he groaned, his voice heavy with regret and discomfort. "Don't make me relive the memory of that domestic whale." His body seemed to sag under the weight of his embarrassment, collapsing onto the bench as if trying to disappear into the worn wood. His usual confident demeanor was replaced by a pitiful display of shame and misery, a stark contrast to his typically jovial self. His words, laced with regret and misery, conveyed the 'pleasure' of these involuntary recollections, making his friends chuckle at his discomfiture.
'Misery loves companion' they say.
"Damn," Tibor continued, his voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. "The girl even tracked me down on Facebook, of all places. I logged in on my PC today and there she was, a friend request waiting." His hand ran through his disheveled sandy hair, a clear sign of his vexation.
The absurdity of the situation was not lost on him. "I saw her for a mere 10 minutes at the ball. I didn't even tell her my name!" His voice rose in incredulity, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in.
His eyes turned to his friends, a plea for help hidden in their depths. "What in the world should I do now, girls?" His question hung in the air, a desperate call for guidance in this unexpected and unwanted predicament. "It will be fucking rude of me to deny her after she kissed me so hard my lips became purple."
Timea, unable to resist the opportunity, leaned in closer, her smile mischievous. "Heh, this is surely going to be a baby," she teased, stoking the fire of his embarrassment further. The unexpected jest only added another layer to their already complex conversation.
Tibor, caught off guard by her comment, spluttered in surprise before retorting. His eyes flashed with mock warning as he shot back, "Don't make me put a baby inside of you before 'ya leave!" His words, though framed as a threat, carried an undertone of jest, matching the playful vibe of their ongoing banter.
Amelia, who had been quietly observing the escalating banter, finally chimed in. Her eyes widened perceptibly, but her face remained neutral, a masterful display of maintaining her composure. "Wow, this shit really went from zero to hundred really fast." Her comment added another layer of amusement to the unfolding spectacle.
Before things would escalate more, Mónika decided to cut in. "A-Anyway, this is the last time we see each other for a long time."
Mónika's gentle redirection brought the conversation back to more positive territory. She was right - this gathering was meant to celebrate their friendship before they embarked on new chapters away from home.
"You're so right Móni," smiled Timea. "We'll have plenty of time for Tibi's romantic dilemmas later." She gave her friend a playful nudge.
Tibor chuckled good-naturedly. "You girls will be sick of hearing about it by Christmas break, I'm sure."
Amelia turned her gaze towards Tibor, her eyes sharp and probing. She took a final, deliberate puff from her cigar before extinguishing it with an air of finality. "So, what's the plan, Tibi?" she inquired, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "You flunked your final exam, didn't you?"
Tibor let out a resigned sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his academic mishap. "To Deutschland, baby..." He made a sweeping gesture with his hand towards what he assumed was the west, yet the glorious sun was clearly moving, setting toward the other direction as he used the very little thing he learned in his German classes.
Amelia took a thoughtful sip of her whisky that was supposed to be the young man's before responding to Tibor. "Don't be too hard on yourself. One failed exam doesn't determine your future."
"Easy for you to say since you're off to university," grumbled Tibor good-naturedly. "While you all will be busy studying, I'll be stuck there working on a farm or in an orchard." He quickly grabbed his drink as he looked into her eyes with a stern look. "Buy one yourself, it would be as easy as your Piggy bank of a Dad bankrolling your life of leisure... Tibor tossed back the rest of his drink with an exaggerated sigh.
She rolled her as Mónika chuckled. "Now now, no need to be envious of us. Studying hard is its own kind of work."
"She's right," chimed in Amelia. "Late nights in the library are no picnic. At least on a farm, you'll be outdoors in the fresh air!"
"Fresh air my ass..." Tibor sighed in frustration. "Sorry Amelia, I know it's not your fault. It just stings to see my plans change."
She waved off his apology. "No need to explain, I understand the feeling well." Turning to him with a smirk, she added, "Though I dare say mucking stables builds character far better than any classroom."
He cracked a smile. "Says the lady who's never done an honest day's work in her life!"
"Perhaps not," Amelia conceded with mock airs, "but I know quality mercy when I see it."
"Alright you two, that's enough brain-fuck for one day," Timea cut in with an amused smile.
She turned to Tibor. "We all know Amelia loves provoking that equine temper of yours."
Amelia smirked. "And he makes it just so easy."
But Timea gave Amelia a playful nudge. "As for you, Miss High Society, someone has to keep your luxurious tendencies in line."
Mónika chuckled. "They do keep things lively, I'll give them that."
"However, Móni and I really should return soon," she said, a note of urgency creeping into her voice as she placed her arms onto both of her shoulders. "It's already 2 p.m. and Dad will be expecting us shortly. We only have until 5 p.m. to move into our new place, after all."
The practicality of her words served as a gentle reminder of their ticking timeline. She reached for Tibor and Amelia's hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Please you two, don't spend our last moments bickering. We'll be apart for who knows how long."
Her earnest plea reminded them of the bittersweet reality set in. Amelia's grin softened as she nodded. "You're right for this time miraculously, Timea."
Tibor echoed her sentiment, his voice laced with a touch of regret as he adjusted his hair. "Forgive me for souring the mood."
Timea's face broke into a relieved smile, the tension visibly melting away from her features. "Heh, don't worry, you didn't. Now, let's raise our glasses for one final toast before we part ways." She held her glass aloft as she already bought it as the others were fighting. The light catches the liquid inside and makes it sparkle. "To friendships that endure, no matter the distance or the length of time we're apart."
The others raised their glasses in agreement. But as Timea clinked hers against theirs, Mónika noticed the faint unease lingering in her eyes. She already knew where the problem roots.
Once the toasts were finished, Mónika turned to Timea and asked gently as she knew she wasn't the most hard-working person, "Have you finished packing yet for the move-in?"
Timea averted her gaze, fingers fidgeting restlessly upon her glass. "About that..." she began, a sheepish note creeping into her tone. Mónika already groaned in her misery as she rolled her eyes.
x-x-x
In the quiet forest on the outskirts of the village, the menacing mosquito-like hollow soared through the trees, closing in on its sensed prey. Its bizarre, insectoid body glinted unnaturally in the daylight as it buzzed between trunks.
"Fufufu, the delicious soul draws near!" it cackled to itself. "Soon, I shall feast to my heart's content!"
As the hollow burst from the confines of the thick forest, its predatory eyes zeroed in on its quarry. Amidst the humdrum of ordinary souls, one in particular blared like a beacon, radiating with a potent reiatsu that was impossible to ignore. The hollow felt its proboscis twitch, a visceral reaction to the intoxicating scent of raw power wafting from the soul. This was no ordinary meal, it was a feast, a banquet of energy that promised to satiate its insatiable hunger.
A wicked grin, as sinister as a crescent moon in a starless night, carved itself onto the hollow's grotesque face. Its hunger was a primal force, driving it towards its prey with an instinctual fervor that was as terrifying as it was relentless. Its wings, catching the sunlight in an eerie dance of shadows and light, angled themselves just right, sending the hollow into a steep, heart-stopping dive.
As the forest thinned and the meadow sprawled before it, the hollow found itself with a clear view of the unsuspecting village. There, in this peaceful sanctuary, his sought-after prey was going about its day, oblivious to the predatory threat looming above.
The anticipation was a sweet torment, a symphony of desire and hunger playing in the hollow's mind. Its heartbeat quickened in rhythm with the flapping of its wings, the echoes of its impending feast resonating deeply within its monstrous form. It was not just eager, but desperate to claim its prize, to sink its proboscis into the rich well of reiatsu it had detected, and to finally, finally appease the gnawing hunger that defined its existence.
As the ravenous creatures swooped towards the unsuspecting village, a single black butterfly, a Jigokuchō, fluttered serenely into the scene. Its delicate wings beat against the wind, a stark contrast to the ominous aura that the Hollow exuded, he even felt as if time stopped as its wings tenderly fluttered. Suddenly, a gust of wind swept across the meadow, and the black butterfly vanished.
Without a moment's hesitation, someone lunged at the Hollow from its back, a sword, precisely a saber slicing through the air with lethal precision. The Hollow, taken by surprise, barely had time to react. Instinctively, it swerved in mid-air, evading the blade by mere inches.
This someone's face was a study of calm determination, the scar running down one side adding a rugged touch to his otherwise handsome features. His hair, as dark as a moonless night, fluttered gently in the breeze, framing his face and emphasizing his steely gaze.
"A Soul Reaper..." The hollow mumbled as he distanced himself from the figure, slightly trembling.
This someone, This Soul Reaper, unfazed by the Hollow's evasion, landed in a crouch, his stern face unchanging. His Zanpakutō glinted menacingly in the sunlight as he prepared for his next move. The Hollow might have evaded his initial attack, but he would not let it escape again.
The Hollow emitted a feral screech, enraged at having its feast interrupted. "Insolent bastard! You dare stop me from claiming what is rightfully mine?"
He shifted into a ready stance, saber poised to strike. The hollow bared its needle-like appendages, swooping lower to circle its opponent warily.
"Then you shall make a meal alongside them!" it hissed. With shocking speed, the hollow darted in to rake its blades across the reaper's torso.
He sidestepped with barely a motion, saber flashing up to parry the attack. But the hollow was cunning - it used the force of the deflection to whip around for another strike from the rear.
The reaper arched fluidly out of reach, lashing out with a precise kick that caught the hollow across its insectoid face. It reeled back with an enraged shriek, one eye cracked from the impact.
"Decline is my only answer," he declared, his voice a resonant echo that cut through the impending tension. His stance shifted, embodying the very essence of readiness as he lifted his blade, its steel glinting ominously under the sun.
x-x-x
As their goodbyes echoed in the air, Timea and Mónika rose from the worn wooden table of the tavern. They cast a final, lingering look at their companions, their faces etched with the bittersweet emotions of parting before they began their journey down the antiquated cobblestone street.
Above them, the sun was a radiant orb, casting an aureate glow over the quaint village. The sounds of life and labor filtered out from the homes, as its denizens began their early preparations for the approaching evening.
Mónika moved with an elegance that was as innate as breathing, her dark tresses swaying rhythmically with her steps. In contrast, Timea's pace was brisk, a clear indication of her eagerness to conclude their packing and embark on their journey.
"I told you already, I'm almost finished don't worry," Timea managed, her smile tinged with a touch of unease. But her words did little to deceive her companion; Mónika had long learned to recognize the subtle hints of a fib from her lifelong friend.
Mónika arched a playful eyebrow. "Now don't try that act with me, Timea. We both know your room's state."
Timea sighed in defeat. "Alright, maybe it needs...a little work. But that's why I have you and Dad!"
Her enthusiasm drew a soft laugh from Mónika as she sighed. "Indeed you do. Now come, let's make haste - the sooner done, the more time to rest."
Timea froze in place, an inexplicable sensation abruptly seizing her. Amidst the habitual backdrop of village life, a dark, mysterious force gnawed at her, sending a chill down her spine. Her eyes darted frantically around, widened in alarm and confusion, scanning the peaceful perimeter of their town.
She was at a loss to explain this sudden wave of fear, this unaccountable heaviness in her chest, this foreboding that had seemingly come from nowhere.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a terrifying shape emerge from the shadowy depths of the forest, swooping down upon their oblivious village. And rising to meet this threat, a lone figure radiated an aura of indomitable resolve.
An ear-splitting screech shattered the air as the two figures clashed, the sound so terrifying it seemed to turn her blood to ice. Timea gasped out loud, her unexpected reaction drawing puzzled and worried looks from the passersby. Yet, she alone bore witness to this hidden conflict, the raw savagery of the clash unfolding in a world unseen by others.
"Timea, are you okay?" Mónika asked, her eyes clouded with concern as she noted her friend's stiff posture. But how could Timea share the horror of what she was seeing when it was a spectacle only visible to her?
"W-Wait, did you not hear this s-screech?"
"What are you talking about? What screech?" A frown of consternation furrowed Timea's brow. Mónika looked at her, an expression of genuine confusion painting her face. Timea's words had clearly fallen on uncomprehending ears.
Summoning a deep, steadying breath, Timea forced a semblance of calm into her voice. "I...might have let my imagination run wild," she uttered slowly, attempting to dismiss her own fears as much as ease Mónika's concern.
Yet, the inner alarm bells continued to ring, their clamor undiminished. An unseen danger lurked close, her senses insisted, making her heart beat an anxious rhythm. Her gaze kept flitting back to the forest, her hand unconsciously tightening its grip on her locket as if the familiar trinket could ward off the invisible peril.
Mónika's eyes trailed hers, finding nothing but serene trees bathed in the warm, golden hue of the setting sun. She reached out and gently clasped Timea's hand, her touch a comforting anchor in the midst of Timea's turmoil.
"Whatever it is that's weighing on you, remember that you don't have to bear it alone, you can tell me," she encouraged softly. Her smile radiated a soothing warmth, acting like a soothing balm on Timea's frayed nerves.
As they continued their little journey, Timea's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. A troubling possibility began to take shape, an unsettling conjecture that sent a shiver down her spine. Could these phantom-like figures, these eerie shapes she had glimpsed, be spirits from beyond, or perhaps some other form of supernatural entity?
Throughout her life, she had always had a knack for seeing apparitions that were invisible to others, an ability that often left her feeling isolated and misunderstood as they moved into this village when she was four years old.
One such entity was a chained ghost who resided within the walls of Timea's new home. Upon their arrival, the malicious spirit raged at the intrusion, furious at being disturbed after so long bound to the dwelling.
Timea was terrified of the vengeful apparition at first. But over time, as she began living alongside him, she noticed subtle shifts in his demeanor and words. His anger dissipated, replaced by a curious interest in observing the activities of the living once more.
While he no longer posed a threat, the ghost had also grown quite fond of teasing Timea, materializing to whisper nonsensical comments or play small pranks to get a reaction. She found his antics annoying and embarrassing, given that no one else could perceive him.
Yet for all his impish behavior, Timea sensed the spirit's lingering loneliness after so long in isolation. In her own small way, she offered him companionship, though always at an arm's length distance.
But this encounter was unlike anything she had experienced before. It was more tangible, more intense, more horrifying. The dread that gripped her, the sense of imminent catastrophe - it wasn't just a fleeting sensation. It was a palpable dread that gnawed at her very core, a fear that felt all too real.
She found herself questioning her own sanity. Was she on the brink of a psychological breakdown? Was her mind playing tricks on her, conjuring images of ghostly battles and spectral warriors? Going Ku-Ku crazy? Or was it something else entirely? Could it be possible that she was evolving, her senses growing stronger, more refined, attuning her to an unseen world that was intertwined with their own?
These questions spun in her head like a dizzying carousel, each one more unsettling than the last. The more she pondered, the more her anxiety deepened. The uncertainty was maddening, filling her with a sense of disquiet that refused to abate.
As Timea's mind wrestled with a torrent of doubts, the ominous feeling she'd been sensing suddenly burst forth into the physical world with a nightmarish intensity.
A thunderous explosion ripped through the serene atmosphere, a cataclysmic upheaval that sent shockwaves rippling through the very fabric of the earth. The outskirts of the village erupted into chaos, transformed into a whirlwind of flying debris and splintering wood.
From the blinding dust storm, two extraordinary figures emerged, locked in a deadly struggle. The man was suddenly thrust into the open, his blades engaged in a fierce contest of raw power with the monster as it smirked.
With a screech that seared the air, the creature asserted its dominance, flinging the shinigami through the village's boundary with a force that threatened to shake the world. Villagers screamed and scattered in panic as the man, who wore very outstanding clothes, tore through thatched roofs and walls with the unstoppable momentum of a human cannonball, a terrifying spectacle of flesh and steel.
"GET DOWN!" Timea's instincts took over, her hand closing tightly around Mónika's arm as she yanked them both behind the comparative safety of a nearby alehouse. The spot they had just vacated was instantly obliterated by a falling roof beam, the explosion sending shards of wood and dust swirling into the air.
Peering through the chaos and debris, Timea's eyes widened as they took in the full scale of the horrifying confrontation. The monster was on the move again, its grotesque mask twisted into a grimace of savage delight as it pursued its disoriented adversary.
Its wings, vast and shadowy, seemed to swallow the light, casting a fearful gloom over the surrounding houses. Its form was monstrous, a looming terror stark against the backdrop of panic-stricken villagers.
A chill ran down Timea's spine as her mind raced to comprehend the scene unfolding before her. 'What is going on? What... What on Earth is this?' Timea found herself grappling with the terrifying reality of what she was witnessing. This was no ordinary specter - it was a being of unfathomable power and malice, a creature that seemed to have clawed its way out of the darkest depths of hell itself.
„Fufufu? That's all, reapie?" The creature's mocking laughter filled the air, a grotesque melody that raked across Timea's senses. She watched, a horrified statue, as the monstrosity poised itself to deliver the final blow. Its talons, sharp and deadly, reached out with a predator's anticipation toward the beleaguered Soul Reaper, its mouth stretching wide to reveal a gaping abyss that seemed to swallow all hope.
A glint of steel was her only warning - with serpentine speed, the Reaper spun to intercept the blur of claws. Their blades clashed in a hellish shriek, unleashing a shockwave that sent dust billowing anew.
The titanic figures wrestled, one fighting through damage that would fall any normal man. Against such a foe even this defender was hard-pressed. Timea saw the impending end if aid did not come swiftly.
In the midst of this chaotic duel, the Reaper's gaze found Timea and Mónika, even as he strained against the Hollow's lethal claws. His eyes held a depth of determination and urgency that sent a jolt of adrenaline through Timea, as he looked back, trying to hold back the monster getting enough time for them to run.
The Hollow, a grotesque parody of a mosquito, mirrored the Reaper's actions. Its mirthless grin widened as it sensed its original prey, recognizing the familiar reiatsu. „FOUND YOU!" It stated menacingly and slowly its red eyes glowed malevolently in the dim light, a terrifying contrast to its black, chitinous body.
As their eyes met with the Reaper's, his intentions became clear. He was buying them time, holding back the beast long enough for them to escape its deadly reach. This realization hit Timea like a punch to the gut, igniting a wildfire of determination within her.
With a quick, decisive nod to Mónika, Timea grabbed her friend's hand. "We need to move, now!" she commanded, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of the ongoing clash. Mónika nodded, not quite understanding her urgency. As they turned to flee, Timea cast one last look over her shoulder at the embattled Reaper.
As Timea and Mónika pivoted to escape, the Hollow turned its infernal gaze upon them. It gave a roar filled with rage and malice, violently casting aside the Soul Reaper like a ragdoll and lunged toward the nearby house in front of them.
However, in a surprising display of resilience, the battered Reaper swiftly regained his footing. Rising two fingers together, a yellow glow materialized at their tips, radiating with potency.
"Sztuka wiązania #4. Lina z energii-(Bakudō #4. Hainawa)," he called out, his voice firm despite the chaos. He aimed at the charging Hollow and a crackling rope of yellow energy surged forth from his fingers.
The Hainawa lashed around the Hollow's limbs, eliciting an enraged shriek. "Insolent insect!" it howled, straining ferociously against the kido's pull.
The Soul Reaper stood resolute, fingers exerting an iron grip on the bounding Hollow. "Your quarrel is with me, demon," he replied calmly yet firmly. "Leave these innocents be."
A guttural laugh spilled from the Hollow. "You think yourself their protector, shinigami?" Its bulbous eyes oozed malevolence. "I'll feast on their souls before ending your miserable afterlife!"
Gripping his zanpakuto with renewed resolve, the Soul Reaper responded, "Their safety is my priority..."
But the Hollow's madness knew no restraint. With a herculean effort, it began tearing free of the binding kido through will alone. "I'll devour you then and save her souls for later!" His voice was a monstrous growl, resounding with unbridled fury.
As the Hollow struggled against the energy bonds, the Reaper approached, resolute and ready to seize this chance. His blade was raised, the deadly edge gleaming ominously under the pallid light, primed to deliver the fatal blow.
However, the Hollow had an ace up its sleeve. In a horrifying display of power and cunning, its stinger swiftly elongated, shooting forward like a deadly dart. The Reaper had only a split second to register the danger before the stinger found its mark, impaling his chest with brutal force.
A pained grunt tore itself from the Reaper's throat, his eyes dilating in shock. His grip on his saber weakened, the weapon clattering to the ground as his concentration shattered, the energy bindings around the Hollow evaporating instantly because of this abrupt disruption.
"Fufufu," the Hollow cackled menacingly, its voice a chilling echo in the stillness that followed the Reaper's fall. "I must admit, you had me worried there for a moment... But your stupid decision was your only wrongdoing, Reaper... Now... not only will I feast on her soul, but I'll relish yours as well." As it spoke, its stinger retracted swiftly, leaving the Reaper to crumble onto his knees, clutching at the grievous wound that perilously neared his heart.
"Damn it!" The Reaper cursed, his voice choked with pain. The Hollow, with a swift and brutal swipe of its talons, cleaved open his chest, blood gushing out without an end. The Reaper's body buckled under the force of the attack, collapsing entirely onto the cold, hard ground.
„Protector of my ass," The Hollow muttered, his voice laced with derision as it flashed a wicked grin. „You couldn't even protect yourself, reaper..." His words dripped with contempt, mocking the fallen soul guardian.
"Now, it's time to hunt her down... I've had my fill of chasing... I've been doing that since yesterday..." With a sharp crack, it twisted its neck, and then, with a surge of power that sent a tremor through the ground, the Hollow launched itself forward.
The Hollow's shrill laughter rent the afternoon, its hunger bent now solely on ending their lives... or at least, Timea's.
"Run, Móni!" Timea's cry pierced the tense silence as she noticed the demonic entity hurtling towards them with unnatural speed. In a swift motion, she grasped Móni's hand, yanking her into a frenzied dash through the devastated cityscape. Behind them, the scraping sound of talons against the deteriorating cobblestones underscored the imminent danger as the beast closed in on its prey.
Mónika was bewildered, her mind a whirl of confusion and terror. She heard the catastrophic sounds echoing behind them, and while she saw nothing when she dared to cast a glance over her shoulder, she could feel an insidious presence hot on their heels, its bloodlust palpable.
They navigated the wreckage blindly, Timea pulling Mónika through sharp turns and narrow alleyways, a silent prayer on her lips that each decision would grant them a few more precious moments of life.
However, the Hollow's predatory instincts were razor-sharp, its senses attuned to their every movement. It landed with a thud that reverberated through the ground, propelling itself after the girls with a speed that defied comprehension. Its monstrous jaws gaped open in the promise of a deadly feast drawing closer with each passing second.
Abruptly, the Hollow's talons clamped onto Mónika's wrist with a force akin to a steel trap, eliciting a shriek of excruciating pain from her. She clung to Timea in desperation, the horrifying feeling of the spectral clasp on her hand sending waves of dread coursing through her. As the beast yanked her from her friend's grip, she found herself staring into the narrowed eyes of the monster, even though she could not see it.
The Hollow, its gaze narrowing into piercing slits, inspected its captive with chilling scrutiny.
"Tch! The wrong one!" The Hollow's voice rang out, a grating growl of frustration echoing in the eerie silence, its disappointment immeasurable... (and maybe its day ruined.)
With an abrupt, unfeeling brutality, the Hollow flung Móni towards a nearby building. She flew through the air helplessly, her scream echoing briefly before she collided with the hard structure. The impact was immediate and fierce, rendering her unconscious instantly as she gasped, closing her eyes.
"MÓNI!" Timea's scream echoed through the ravaged streets, a desperate cry filled with terror and concern. She made a frantic attempt to rush toward her fallen friend, but her endeavor was abruptly halted.
Like a terrifying shadow, the Hollow swooped in, positioning itself menacingly between Timea and Móni. Before she could react, the beast seized her, its cruel talons closing around her with an iron grip. Frozen in fear, her heart pounding against her ribcage like a frantic drum as he looked into her eyes.
"Yes... You're the one..." The Hollow's voice was a dark whisper that sent a fresh wave of chill surging through Timea's veins and spine.
"W-What a-are you?" Timea's voice wavered, her eyes wide with fear but still holding a spark of defiance as she gazed at the creature.
The Hollow regarded Timea with a malevolent glint in its eyes, a sinister hunger that sent chills down her spine. "Feigning ignorance won't help you, child," it sneered, its laughter a chilling sound that echoed in the desolate surroundings.
Its grip around her tightened, claws digging into her flesh and drawing thin streams of blood. A whimper escaped her lips, yet she remained resolute, her gaze piercing through her pain-filled tears to glare at the beast defiantly.
"Seeing your confusion, I suppose I should enlighten you," the Hollow drawled, its tone dripping with mockery. "In your human terms, I would be considered a 'demon.' We Hollows sustain ourselves by feasting on the delectable souls of your species."
Timea's body shuddered within the creature's brutal grasp, a whirlwind of fear and bewilderment swirling in her vivid blue eyes. "M-My soul? I... I don't understand..."
The Hollow responded with a grating laugh that set her nerves on edge. "Naturally, you wouldn't. You humans are so woefully ignorant." It leaned in, its toxic reiatsu enveloping her in a nauseating surge.
"You see, I am in a state of PERPETUAL HUNGER. An empty vessel, driven by the need to consume the spirits of both the living with vibrant souls, and the deceased ones," it hissed, taking perverse pleasure in the terror reflected in her features.
"And what a LURE you are, girl! Your soul echoes like a feast, making my mouth water in anticipation!" It traced a single talon down the trail of a tear on her cheek.
"Soon, I will sink my sting deep within you, and consume the radiant light that dwells in your soul. Your essence will be CONSUMED, providing sustenance for me for days to come!"
In response, Timea shook her head vehemently, her eyes blazed with defiance amidst the engulfing terror. "N-No! Release me, you b-beast!"
The hold of the Hollow tightened, and Timea's struggle became more desperate, her soul ignited with defiance despite the despair of her situation. The claw-like grip of the beast squeezed further, and her vision blurred, threatening to succumb to the darkness, but then, a radiant burst of light erupted.
Suddenly, Timea found herself standing in an endless expanse, a wavering sea of azure that stretched in all directions. Suspended before her was a katana, its polished steel glowing with a resolve of its own.
Its luminescent silver blade seems to throb in rhythm with her heartbeat, emitting a soft, otherworldly glow. The hilt, wrapped in midnight blue fabric, offers a stark contrast to the luminous blade, while the guard exhibits an intricate pattern of interlocking circles. As a unique characteristic, the weapon disappears entirely when sheathed, as though slipping back into the spiritual realm from which it emerged.
"So...you've finally woken, sleeping beauty," a voice that was as melodious as a song echoed in the void, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Timea whirled around, disoriented in this unfamiliar realm.
A soft laugh followed. "Seek not with your eyes, simple one. I've been observing you in your slumber for far too long." The voice seemed to originate from the katana itself, a presence as ethereal as the realm they were in.
"The time has come for you to seize your destiny...but in your current state, you could be toppled by a gentle breeze!" The voice held a note of amusement. "Come, let us start your journey along the path of the warrior."
Timea could only stare, utterly at a loss. "I...what? Who are you? Where am I?"
A sigh echoed around her. "So many questions, yet the only real answer is experience." The voice seemed to shape the void around her, creating a space where she could feel the energy of the katana. "Reach out, child, and cast your earthly fears into the dance!"
Timea moved to grasp the sword, but her hand passed right through it. "Of course, you've yet to grasp even the basics. But fear not, there is a little time for learning."
The void around her shifted, and the Hollow appeared once more. Yet, it was an echo, a reflection of the events unfolding in the real world. "Now, strike as I guide you! Use your reiatsu to take hold of the blade."
The voice responded, its tone imbued with an ethereal patience and an undercurrent of urgency. "It's not something to be understood with words... You must feel it. It's nestled deep within your soul."
Encouraged by the voice, Timea tried to listen to her inner self. She closed her eyes, her breathing steadying as she centered her thoughts. It felt as though she were standing on the precipice of a vast, unexplored ocean. She probed deeper, her conscious mind reaching out towards this unseen expanse, and in doing so, she touched upon something profound—a wellspring of energy, pulsing and resplendent, hidden within the depths of her being.
This was her reiatsu, her spiritual energy. It was like discovering a part of herself that had been silently waiting, ready to awaken at the right moment.
She drew from this newfound source, a stream of power flowing from her core, coursing through her veins, and converging on her outstretched hands. The ethereal sword she held began to solidify, its form growing more defined in tandem with her rising spiritual energy.
Overwhelmed by the sensation, Timea faltered mid-swing. Her eyes widened in awe and disbelief as she clutched the now tangible blade. "I'm—I'm doing this...?" she whispered her voice barely a breath against the vastness of the void. The grip on her sword tightened, the realness of the blade grounding her amidst the flood of revelations.
"Indeed!" The voice in the void laughed. "Now, pay attention: channel your reiatsu into the blade to parry its attack. Be fluid yet firm, one with the rhythm of battle."
The voice guided her smoothly, helping her deflect a series of attacks. "Like so, feel the flow and let your instincts lead you. You can do this, kiddo - now show me what you've learned!"
Timea steeled herself as the phantom Hollow charged. She steadied her stance and took a deep breath.
In the blink of an eye, Timea lashed out, severing the Hollow's spectral limb her consciousness within her inner world. The swift execution of her attack left an echo of her newfound resolve resonating through the void.
"WHAT?!" The Hollow's screech reverberated through the ethereal expanse.
But before her blade could collide with the phantom again, reality came crashing back. The azure void of her inner world dissolved, replaced by the grim reality of her battlefield. The Hollow's physical claw was hurtling towards her, a deadly arc of menace.
With a feral yell, Timea pivoted on her heel, her blade whirling in a graceful arc. The metal sang as it met the Hollow's claw, the harsh clang of parried attack echoing through the eerily silent surroundings.
The Hollow reeled back, its features contorted in astonished rage. Crimson eyes bored into Timea's, alight with crazed fury.
"Impossible!" it shrieked, the sound grating across shattered nerves. "How have you drawn the steel of a soul reaper?!"
Its wings carved agitated patterns through the thickening dusk as it hovered, assessing this unprecedented situation. Never had mere prey dared raise its blade against its dominance.
Talons flexed restlessly at its sides, craving the delicate surrender of her soul all the more for this rebellion. But an undercurrent of unease lingered - what unknown power coursed through this little mortal's veins?
Timea stood strong before the demon's inquisition, though inwardly she wondered the same. Some nameless wellspring had awakened within at death's door, granting command of a soul-cut sword once thought fantasy.
Her spirit partner's encouraging laughter echoed distantly in memory, lending steel to faltering nerves. This monster sought to consume her very essence - she could do no less than fight with every shred of will.
Gripping hilt and shredded hope alike, Timea steeled her gaze to meet the Hollow's. "I know not how... only that I will defend myself and those you hurt," she declared, her voice ringing sure despite doubt's clamor.
The Hollow gnashed its fangs in impotent fury, talons raking only air as Timea evaded each slash with fluid grace. Never before had it faced an opponent whose poise and prowess matched its own.
Each parry and counterstrike chipped away at sanity clinging by threads. Its beady eyes, once alight with gleeful malice, now burned with a crazed desperation.
Again and again, Timea pressed her advantage, saber flashing silversong through the deepening gloom. Every blow seems to say 'I am real, I can defeat you'. Her stance, once uncertain, flowed with preternatural surety - at every turn this girl upended its expectations.
A banshee shriek tore loose as its wing shredded beneath her blade. With a final, mighty wrench it tore free, membranes flapping tatteringly on either side of a lengthy gash.
Its landing sent shockwaves quaking through the ruins. Timea stood resolute to meet its frenzied charge, her katana glinting a deathly promise in the light.
Though mortal limbs trembled with exhaustion, her eyes blazed with the fiery heart of one victory after another. When at last their blades clashed, reiatsu ignited in a spectacular flourish.
The force of the collision threw the Hollow backward with such force that the flagstones beneath it cracked upon impact. Its grotesque form skidded across the ground, coming to rest in a twisted sprawl. Its crab-like eyes swiveled wildly in its mask, disoriented and desperate. In a last-ditch effort, it shot out its stinger, hoping to land a surprise hit.
With an agility born of her newfound strength, Timea skillfully sidestepped the attack. As the stinger whipped past her, she sliced it cleanly in half with a swift horizontal cut. The severed appendage fell to the ground with a thud, a grim reminder of the Hollow's impending defeat.
Timea stood over it, chest heaving, the point of her phantom katana poised at the juncture of neck and body. When at last she spoke, her voice carried further than these walls alone.
"Leave... and trouble this village no more."
"Fuck you... Wench!-" The Hollow spat one last insult, a feeble attempt to belittle her. But Timea remained unfazed, her resolve unwavering.
With a swift, decisive motion, she plunged her katana into the Hollow. Its words were cut off abruptly as its form began to dissolve into dust, a fitting end to its reign of terror.
Her phantom katana seemed to sense the impending change, and as she sheathed it, the ethereal weapon disappeared, as if returning to the depths of her soul from whence it had come.
As the Hollow dissolved into nothingness, Timea swiftly turned on her heel, her heart pounding with a mix of victory and concern. She sprinted towards Mónika and the Reaper, her newfound strength fueling her urgency.
Mónika was lying motionless on the ground. Timea's relief was palpable as she knelt beside her, her chest heaving with exhaustion.
Before she could assess her condition further, two Soul Reapers suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Their uniforms were pristine, their expressions stern. "So, you are the one who that hollow hunted." One said. "You're not supposed to remember any of this," the other one said, his voice as cool and unyielding as steel.
Before she could protest, the first Reaper stepped forward, his hand stretched out towards her. A wave of energy flowed from his palm, and in an instant, Timea's memories began to blur.
TO BE CONTINUED!