Will It Be

Green. Green. Green. Silver. Brown. Green. Blue. Gold. Blue. Green. Brown. Yellow. Grey. Black. Brown. Blue.

A cosmic aurora once again rendezvous’ upon my vision, preventing me from the comfort of sleep. But, it’s different from before, no being torn apart, only a profound, peaceful stillness. It feels like coming home.

Amongst the traffic of tones a figure emerges.

“I-It’s her.”

She is not a distant reflection. She is present, radiating a confidence I’ve never possessed. A gentle, knowing smile surfaces on her face.

“Hello again, Shikara.” Her voice is my own, but without the frayed edges from a lifetime of use. It is clear and calm.

“Wh…” I start, the question lodging in my throat. “Who exactly are you? I thought… I thought I was allowed to start again?”

“I am the part of you that answered when the void asked ‘Why’?’” she explains, her form shimmering with the soft colours around us. 

“I am your will.”

Her words resonate within my mind, as if I always knew.

“Your soul has been set alight with the passion of your will. You have a direct connection to the underlying fabric of this world now.”

She raises a hand, and the swirling colours behind her shift and brighten.

“Am I the only one like this?” The question came so naturally it’s as if I wasn’t the one saying it. 

“Everyone here is born with this latent connection, but they can live their whole lives without ever igniting the spark. They call it being Kindled”

As she speaks, words woven from faint, silvery light appear in the space between us. They are simple, and they make my breath catch in my chest.

Active Skills:

[Locked]

Passive Skills:

Gift of the Observer - You possess a natural talent for noticing details that elude others. Allowing you to catch glimmers of truth that hide in plain sight.

I stare blankly at the glowing words, a hundred questions bubbling up. “Gift of the Observer, how does that apply to me?”

Her smile widens. “You spent a lifetime observing. Watching people from the stage, from behind the counter, from across the train carriage. Every subtle shift in posture, every hesitation, every emotion that trickles down someone's face.”

Her expression sobers slightly. “But it came at a cost. In focusing so intently on watching the world, you neglected to watch your own life play out the way it should have.”

“Ok, feels like a bit of a dig at me but whatever. What about the ‘Active Skills’?” I ask, gesturing to the locked text.

“Skills are not given; they are forged.” she explains patiently. “They are born from necessity, from struggle, from triumph. The world will ask questions of you, Shikara. And you must answer them correctly.”

The glowing text fades, and the serene colours around us begin to dim, pulling away like an ebbing tide.

“Being kindled allows you to grow in ways others can only dream of.” Her voice becomes softer. “When your soul is at rest you will see that growth materialize.”

“Wait!” I call out, but she is already gone.

“Rest now. Your performance has only just begun.” Rings in the darkness.

Vacant knocking pulls me from the depths of my slumber.

“Shikara? Are you awake?” It’s Elara’s voice, mellow and cheerful, coming from the other side of the wooden door. “Breakfast is ready!”

I sit bolt upright on the straw mattress, the morning sun streams through the small window. Pushing the rough-spun blanket aside, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and walk to the door.

The dream is already fading, but the memory of the silvery, glowing text is burned into the back of my mind.