Her name, though she doesn't know it, is "Shirahime".
She'd awakened with a crown on her head and a scepter in hand. At once she knew what they
were, and she knew what they meant. The girl with white hair and two-color eyes knows that she is most assuredly somebody special.
"So, bow to me!"
"Uh... What?"
"...So it isn't this one either."
With her arms folded and legs crossed and her gaze cast aside, the girl who knows herself to be a
princess leans back in her "throne"—a kitchen chair—while the memory of a friend—the friend of whomever had this perspective she's usurped through a frame of glass—looks back at her in
confusion.
Four shards today.
She has explored four shards as she's sought the truth of her past—because there is most definitely a truth! Her innate knowledge of the significance of items, her understanding of speech, and how she has always perceived the world she awakened into however long ago informs her thusly: that her existence in the world called "Arcaea" cannot simply be some trick of chaos and chance. More importantly, regardless of these suspicions, far too much is confounding about the world of white. Too confounding. She demands certainty.
"Listen, Hamu—"
"Haru."
"Hato." She pauses, then opens her palms out at her sides. "I'm looking for which of these
memories has my castle. My 'castle'. You get it, right?"
"A castle," Haru repeats. "So you think you're a queen or something?"
She puts a loose fist against her lips and considers the notion.
"Well, princess, maybe," she eventually replies, slouching forward.
"...Are you alright, Anri?" he asks, and she lowers her gaze as a sour mood falls over her. In short
order, her face reflects the mood.
As mentioned, that is not her name. She still does not know her name, but she does know it isn't
Anri. She also knows she's pushing her luck.
In moments, this memory will likely collapse. In a sense, that's fine—that's fast, and no waste of
time. But it is another dashed hope.
"And why were you talking about memories?" Haru continues. The intruding girl glances up at him again.
Four shards today.
And so, that marks fifty-three in all.
With any memory she finds that resonates with her even in the slightest way, she takes hold of it
and dives within.
She keeps watch on Haru's blank face. She has seen countless blank faces just like it. After four
seconds, it freezes.
There is a sound of fracture, and the world all falls away...
...fading out, into Arcaea.
The girl finds her scepter nearby, before the curb upon which she had been sitting.
She takes it up, stands, and twirls it about in her right hand.
And so, she goes.
The journey for discovery continues...
But the girl does not know this:
Discovery will not be hers.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Perhaps she can piece it together.
Perhaps, maybe, she can form a theory, and that theory may be correct.
After all, many girls have wandered into this world called Arcaea, and in time discovered
themselves. She does not know this. She, as do so many others in the glass landscape along with her, believes herself to be alone in Arcaea. To be frank, it inflates her sense of importance. That being said, it also makes her reflect on her predicament.
If she is alone, then perhaps she is a noble in exile (no). She was a wonderful ruler, loved by all (no)! Until... there was a terrible rebellion (there wasn't)! The people turned against their queen, princess, and country, and purged her memories clean (quite the story)! With magic!
The girl who woke with a crown and scepter is the kind to believe in magic.
One can allow her this, however. What is the world of white if not a magical one? Her place in it is
strange, and the place itself is stranger still. In no memory has she ever found a world in which
glass flies and floats through the air as it does in this one—not in any shards, nor in her head.
That, and how these glass memories are experienced... this place is magic, no? And that is why
she must have come from magic too.
That's what she wants to think. She is wrong—that magic is where she came from—but it is her
leading theory.
Therefore, she is special. Therefore, she should be admired.
"Maybe... there are 'cool' memories by cool-looking places," she says to herself as she overlooks
the colorless lands. "Let's go find a tower."
She marches forward.
Indeed.
When describing her, it would be apt to say that this girl's head is one made of stone.
YOU ARE READING
Arcaea: The World of Glass
Science FictionTwo young girls explore a shattered world, filled with sound: a past to be uncovered... Each awakens in this blank, ruin-dotted world to discover that she is equally blank, remembering nothing of what came before. And then they make a second discove...