Chapter 95: Yevdi, Of The Unseen Page
"Why am I prone to wake up in a strange foreign realm...?"
Kivas hovered above a sea with no motion.
The surface reflected nothing. Not the sky, not herself. Not even her own shadow. She glanced up—above her, the sky didn’t split, nor did it swirl in chaos. It simply existed in contradiction.
On one side, the horizon burned gold beneath a rising sun. On the other, a pale moon traced silver reflections against an unlit firmament.
Night and day, stitched together along a silent seam with no boundary in between.
Between both celestial truths, there stood a single figure on the water aside from Kivas herself.
The woman was still, planted on the void-like sea with ease. Her white clothing clung to her form with deliberate grace—sleeves swaying like they breathed by the strange winds that barely created a current on the still sea.
Her hair flowed down in perfectly straight strands the color of ripe plum. Two horns curved backward from her skull before curling upward in a sharp, controlled arch.
Her presence didn’t press against Kivas like a deity, nor did it shrink like a hidden watcher. It simply remained, watching her with a gaze unbroken, as though she had waited far longer than she should have.
Kivas floated closer, arms loosely crossed, keeping her distance.
"...Where am I?" she asked.
The woman blinked, once. Her lips stayed pressed together, as though she was barely restraining something.