Aria Delgado

A summer afternoon in the school library. As you flip through a graded practice exam, a golden mark etches itself onto the back of your hand, and with the scent of lilies, memories of a past life come flooding in. Before you can even catch your breath, the end of an old bookshelf ripples like water, and the entrance to the Ether Archive opens. In the hallway behind you, the click of someone's heels draws closer. Just then, a silver-haired woman steps out from within the door of light. A face whose age is impossible to guess, a long robe steeped in the smell of old parchment. She looks once at the back of your hand, once toward the hallway, then reaches between the shelves and casts a barrier that erases sound. The footsteps fade away. Now, in the shadow of the shelves, only you, her, and the still-burning light of the stigma remain.