—EPILOGUE—

Trapped in her celestial prison, the younger sister was soon forgotten by the people of Earth,
simply known as an old legend—the maiden in the moon.

She tried to scream, but all she let out was a coughing wheeze. She fell and fell, lurching further into oblivion. Every time she would brace herself, say this is it, but the end never came. She never reached the bottom, where she would inevitably shatter into pieces.

Was this it, then? Was she doomed to just fall forever through this bottomless pit?

A soft buzzing filled her empty chest, surrounded by frayed wires and sparking parts that clattered everywhere. Her metal prongs bunched into fists, her sensor flashing erratically.

Help.

She screamed and screamed, but no one heard a thing. She was drowning, she was burning, she was dying. Stuck in her disintegrating body, there was nothing she could do. The glass on her face started to shatter, forming spiderweb cracks over the smooth surface. This feeling, such helplessness—it seemed so familiar. As if she had gone through this before.

Akiho, look at this!

Her head snapped around at the sound, searching frantically for the voice. It echoed through the space, cutting through the looming silence. Her systems began to smoke and spark, overheated.

Isn't this the best?

"Wha...what is it? Who are you?" she managed to croak.

Akiho!

"Who's Akiho?" she said, louder this time. The name struck a chord in her chaotic mind. Was it her own?

A sudden flash came in her view, the hazy image of a girl floating right outside her reach. She could make out pale skin, a trace of red hair before it disappeared. A second one popped up, and then another—all of the same girl. In one, she was a child; in another, she grown. In one, she was smiling; in another, she was crying.

She wanted to reach out to the girl, but every time, the image would escape, replaced with another, until she was surrounded by hundreds of voices and pictures. The whole collage spun around in a blur of colour, making her head swim.

She wanted to scream again, but she realized in horror that her voice-box had been torn out along with other parts, the metal bits left to fly in the emptiness. What little strength she had was quickly draining, leaving her too weak to even flail her spindly arms. An explosion of light burst from below, and she glanced down, shrieking soundlessly. A pit of fire roared, the flames curling and licking up, trying to snatch her. She braced herself for impact, for her inevitable death, the smoke flooding her ravaged mechanics.

Please, please, help!

She prayed and cried, her voice falling on dead ears. Just as she felt the first attacks from the heat, the fire disappeared, extinguished by a sudden downpour of water, cool and icy. She looked above her, where black clouds gathered like a thunderstorm, weeping streams of never-ending rain. She blinked and gasped internally as the sensation of falling ceased, but there was no thud, no impact.

Instead, it seemed like someone had caught her, a gentle hand lifting her through the thick clouds and showers, bringing her back up to a soft light. Back through the collage of images—whether they were illusions or memories, she didn't know. Not that it really mattered. The girl's voice assaulted her hearing interface once again, words falling and swirling around her like soup. Letters, letters on a string, no longer making sense. As she rose up further, the girl's voice faded, buried under debris and smoke, never to break free.

With a sigh, she relaxed against the invisible hand, letting the fire, the pictures, the thoughts escape and tumble down the bottomless abyss; until every trace of the girl, every trace of her broken memories were gone.

Before long, the light grew blindingly bright, and she tried to cover her sensor. The rays attacked her sight, and she once again longed to escape, screaming words of silence, more letters, more moans. The hand never stopped, pushing her up into the glowing. She didn't know which was worse: the blinding of the light or the burning of the fire.

But, as suddenly as it came, the light flashed away, replaced with pitch black. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. When would it finally end? Numbers crawled across her vision, code that she once understood, but was much too dazed to comprehend now. A little dot blinked over and over again, annoying her. Go away, you, she thought.

"Mommy! Is she awake yet?"

She froze at the sound of a voice, a voice she could understand. She would've cried tears of joy if she could. Finally, something that made sense.

"Soon, Peony. Be patient," another voice replied, unmistakably human.

She wished her body into movement, her mind into consciousness. Wake me up! Please!

"You hear that, Iko? You're gonna wake up soon, and then we'll be able to play!"

Yes, yes! I want to play!

"Oh, look! She's moving!" a third voice exclaimed, and she felt a finger tap her solid chest.

If she had eyebrows, they would be furrowed in confusion. Who was Iko? And how was the voice touching her chest? She tried to find her middle, but all she sensed was a hollow cavity.

Iko. The name was new, completely new. It wasn't hers. But somehow...it felt right. She struggled to remember the old one—what was it that the girl called her?

"Alright," a fourth voice added, considerably deeper than the rest, "she'll be rebooting in three, two..."

She felt hope blossom through her. The slightest thought of her old name blew away in the wind, taking with it the remnants of her memories. Iko. She was Iko now.

"One."

The world came into view so quickly that it threw her back, making the scrawling code flash in warning. A ceiling, with a blaring lamp shining down on her. She was lying on a table of sorts, that much was clear. She let out a gasp, immediately followed by a whimper of relief. Her voice was back.

"Is she okay?"

With surprising ease, she turned her head towards the voice, her gaze setting on the face of a girl, every pixel, every fragment of her perfectly defined and clear. Iko cooed softly, mystified by the face. A second person came into view—a woman, no older than thirty, with lovely raven hair and brown eyes. She seemed kind, gentle.

The woman smiled, an arm draped over her shoulders. The arm, Iko quickly came to realized, belonged to a handsome man standing next to her.

"Hello, Iko," the woman said. "My name is Adri. Welcome to the Linh family."

—END—