White light filled everything.

The world lost its sound; even the particles of air seemed to loosen and drift apart.

Time crumbled.
Sensation dissolved.

The girl’s awareness floated through a slow, unanchored dream.

Warm shadows swayed.

Only the shapes of hands remained before melting into the light.

Memories rose and vanished one by one.

Herself running through a sunlit garden.

The smell of the book her grandfather read to her, her small body resting on his knees.

That warmth, too, was swallowed by the light.

Contours dissolved.
Words and sounds faded.

Only light remained.

She did not know how long it lasted.

The white glow thinned, and in its place came the trace of wind.

The scent of salt.
The sound of surf.

A mist-like sea breeze brushed her cheek—cool, but strangely soft.

The world was breathing before she did.

Waves rolled in and retreated, scattering wet flashes of light across pale sand.

On a cliff by the shore, a single figure lay on the ground.

Sand and earth clung to her clothes, grains of salt shone in her hair.

Her fingers moved.

Under her palm were damp soil and short grass.

Morning dew lingered, and its coldness seeped along her skin.

Somewhere far off, a bird called.

The beat of wings merged with the wind, forming a gentle rhythm.

She drew a slow breath and lifted her eyelids.

Light poured in.

The sky held a color she did not recognize—between white and blue, a faint gold drifting through it.

Its brightness struck deep enough to ache behind her eyes.

Her throat trembled as she tried to speak.

Only air scraped out.

Her lips moved once; even the name left there dissolved.

Lowering her gaze, she paused, then pushed her body upright.

Her shoulders creaked, strength returning to her knees.

When she stood, the wind brushed her cheek again.

The scent of soil and grass mingled with the sea breeze.

Beyond the moisture of salt, there was the presence of life.

Sand glimmered at her feet.

Barefoot, she stepped forward.

No footprints marked the shore.

On the far line of the horizon, faint remnants of light drifted and sank.

She turned.

A long stretch of white beach lay behind her, and beyond it a green forest faced the sea.

Leaves swayed in the wind, scattering soft patterns of light across the ground.

Sunbeams filtered through them, gentle enough to feel like a welcome.

She began to walk.

Her footprints vanished under the waves and appeared again.

The wind lifted her hair, brushing her cheek in passing.

In this quiet world, there was only the pulse of the tide and the sound of her breath.

When she reached the edge of the forest, the surf grew distant.

In its place came the murmur of leaves.

Light flickered through gaps in the branches, shadows gliding over the earth.

Bird calls, the creak of limbs, the faint trickle of water—
everything was new, yet touched with something familiar.

The wind carried a thin metallic chime.

A sound like a single wind-bell trembling far away.

She stopped and listened.

The tone came from deeper within the forest.

Drawn toward it, she stepped forward.

Branches brushed her shoulders; flecks of light clung to her skin.

The smell of grass deepened.

The world breathed with her movement, its heartbeat slow and steady.

Then she saw it.

Broken stone pillars.
Walls buried in moss.

The place glowed pale under the light, like ruins shaped by human hands long ago.

The remnants of a tower cast a long shadow, and vine-wrapped steps climbed upward.

She looked up.

Something deep inside her frame trembled—
neither fear nor comfort, but a pull from somewhere older.

Her gaze fixed on the ruins.

Her breath slipped from rhythm.

The wind fell still.

In the quiet, she drew in a small breath and walked again.

Grass brushed her ankles.

When she passed beneath the shadow of the ruins, the light welled up once more.

From the sea behind her came the long, steady sound of waves.

The world was warm.

Quiet without emptiness.

She did not look back.

Only moved deeper into the forest, toward the light.

At that moment, two shadows appeared on the slope behind her.

Shapes walking slowly, catching the sea wind—
one tall, one slightly shorter.

Still too far for their voices to reach.

Yet their presence marked itself clearly upon the world.

The girl did not know.

Sunlight threaded through the leaves and carved three shadows onto the ground.

Wind swept through once more, carrying the sound of waves with it.

The world was quietly announcing its beginning.

*

Wer mit Ungeheuern kämpft, mag zusehen, dass er dabei nicht selbst zum Ungeheuer wird. Und blickst du lange in einen Abgrund, blickt der Abgrund auch in dich hinein.

――Friedrich Nietzsche, Jenseits von Gut und Böse