As I awakened, darkness welcomed me.

Along with it was an unfamiliar room stripped of its beauty—a cold and desolate ruin. Strange loneliness filled the place. Was it because of the darkness? The broken walls, ransacked furniture, and ripped curtains? Or the fact that there was nobody there but me?

I slowly got up from the bed where I lay. It was the only place untouched amidst the chaos around me—like a solely protected sanctuary. But when I lifted my body, an immeasurable pain grasped my heart.

“Ugh…” I groaned miserably as I clenched my chest tight.

Why was I hurting? I tried to observe my body but saw no wound, scar, or anything that would warrant my physical pain. My white dress was untouched, and not a single drop of blood could be found. If so, then why? What was this stinging pain that robbed me of my breath? Of my life before me?

I wanted to scream my suffering away, but my voice won’t come out. I wanted to cry it out, but the tears won’t fall. All that was left were the stains that remained on my cheeks as if I had already cried a whole lifetime’s worth of tears. I wanted to move my body and get out of that wretched place, but all my strength left me.

My mind wanted to save myself from the torment, yet my body wanted to stay there and engulf me in sadness. It had no will to move even the tiniest inch, no determination to utter a single word, and no desire to feel, see, or hear anything anymore.

As my body lost hope and my mind contemplated the futility of it all, I let myself succumb to the darkness—to the void that was the only remaining thing in that place.

Since when did darkness feel so comforting? 

Since when did it become a solace to my aching heart?

Yes… just let me stay here. Here where it was cold, dark, and empty.

As I yielded to the pain that kept swallowing me up, a faint light sprung forth from my closed hand. It was only then that I felt myself holding onto something.

‘What is this?’ I asked myself.

And when I opened my left hand, a ring popped up. It was made of the most beautiful colors combined into an iridescence. The white gem at the center of its flower head radiated a light so warm as if it was attempting to comfort me. But where did it come from? Why was I holding onto it as if it was something precious?

Then, a voice I did not recognize called me.

“Asha…”

My eyes slowly widened until, alas, the suffocating pain in my heart broke out. Like uncontained waves, tears came flooding my eyes as soon as I heard them. And my voice finally professed all the anguish I tried to withhold.

“AAAHHHHHH!”

A wild cry overcame me, liberating me from the sorrow that shackled me.

“Huh-huh-huh…”

I shouted over and over, wanting to let go of whatever was devouring my very being. I wailed, screamed, and wept miserably until there was nothing left to feel.

Just like that, minutes turned into hours and hours into days.

I sat there crying my heart out for unknown reasons—like a person who had lost her sanity. Or perhaps a person who had lost something so dear and yet… I could not remember what it was. The only evidence it left was the pain that scourged my heart.

I scoured my memories, hoping to find a hint of what it was. I could clearly remember who I was—from childhood to adulthood, my parents, my friends, which town I grew up in, and my occupation. Everything made sense yet why did it feel like I was missing something important?

Why did I wake up in this place? When did I come here? Who was I with—if I ever was with someone? Why did everything turn into ruins? And why was I hurting? Was it a curse? Did someone put a spell on me to hurt me?

Hundreds of questions I had, but there was no one to answer.

And so, I decided to look for the answer.

Yes… I should move on and search for what I have lost. Nothing would happen if I remained here. That’s right. I should… stand up and walk. Perhaps I could find my answers. If fate allows it, I might even regain that which I have lost.

Thus, I started my journey and wandered around the world—seeking that precious thing.

My name is Asha Beatrix, and this is my story.