A Cracked Frame

[ShiroKirishiki]

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I have no words. They have failed me.

When I ascended those steps to a familiar field, the one where I made a fox bleed, my fate was sealed.
She did not wish to understand me. She wished to erase me, to remove me from the canvas.

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She didn’t do it out of hatred. She didn’t do it out of anger.

She did it in mourning. She did it in remembrance.

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She did it to bury the little girl that sniffed around the forests looking for trouble.

She did it to bury the child she failed to raise.

She did it to grieve.

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"Yaeka is dead. Don’t use her voice anymore."

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Oh, Mydaea… Is this Your will as well?

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To teach me something so beautiful, to make the pain sing better than any voice could? To carve it into my soul, and show me the truth that I had hidden from all along?

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I’ve been called a monster. They’ve called us witches. Enemies.

But she—the one that looked at my twisted eyes and smiled—called me dead.

'But I'm alive...right?'

And maybe, just maybe, she was right.

I left part of myself in that ruined factory,

Next to the corpse of the half-angel that I laid low.

A piece of my soul, a piece of my past.

The part of me that kept it all from unravelling.

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The part of me that Her Grace replaced.

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Then….

Why do I still grieve?

Why do I still mourn?

Why does this pain still echo in every brushstroke I make?

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Why do I feel so hollow?

'Does the answer really matter?'

If I am dead… Then I will haunt.

The silence I was given will be my final composition.

I won’t vanish.

I will echo.

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Oh, Mydaea… Hear my prayer.

Let me disappear with grace.

Let whatever remains be worthy of witnessing.

Let the silence I carry mean more than the voice I lost.

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Give this failure form. Make it become poetry.

If I cannot be heard, then let me be seen.

Felt instead of forgotten.

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One day… I will find a way to speak again.

Not with words… but with silence that will leave the world breathless.

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Oh, Mydaea…

I pray You will smile when You see it.