When Peace Beckons

Neoma Neoma stood in the obsidian chamber, a tepid line on her face uncertain if it were a smile or a frown. She blinked in the darkness and breathed, not because she had to, but because she loved the tickle of the ashes in the heavy air inside her lungs. She had been here. Many times before. Many times. Each time lost in the one before, like an endless food chain. Each new iteration of darkness consuming the one before, but as much as she'd like to forget, as much as each darkness ought to cast away all the light of her memory, time and time again it would fail. "Rhue. Rhue. Rhue." The name of her father would fall upon her lips, as her toes slid over the obsidian walkways and she spun. The rhythm of her feet an ancient dance she had danced with Rhue. Her hands whisked through the air as she held her elbows out. Pretending he was there with her. He was there with her. And always would be. "Rhue. Rhue." She spun until she felt the inner chambers of her head spinning, and she spun even more until she decided to stand still, and allowed the spinning to continue until it ceased. And the memory of her father remained. Staring at her. Reminding her she was both a gift, a curse, his biggest love and his biggest mistake. "Rhue." She uttered it one last time, though she did not know why. She stood in the dark, her hands falling slowly to her side. Her father's spirit locked in her memory. Maybe it was time to forget, just so she could stop spinning. Stop spinning. Stop. But the darkness remained, and she still did not want to leave. She opened her senses to her surroundings, aware that The Climb may not have been as unpopulated as it once was. Remember. Or don't. It's up to you.