When Peace Beckons

Neoma “In a way, yes.” She tries to stifle a painful moan that escapes like a drop against the crystal echo chamber. “In a way, no.” She pulls her hand to her chest, clenching it tight enough so that the blood stops its flow, but not enough so that she’d tire from holding it. “Many times I’ve awoken to sleep again. Unwilling to let go of my dreams. The past that haunts me.” She bows profoundly, feeling the weight of her shoulders drag towards the floor. Then rises again. “Neoma. You may call me by this name. The name Mother patiently beckons me with.” She turns her face wistfully towards the floor, a gesture of shame and regret. But in a moment of resolve, looks back up to her fellow Ancient. “You?” Remember. Or don't. It's up to you.