Sunlight slanted through the silver blinds of the Aldwyn Research Division. Its warmth mingling with the hum of machines and faint ozone from mana condensers.
The certain place was smelled of ink, metal and burnt coffee, the perfume of long obsession.
Dr. Fern Jaswin sat half-cross-legged atop her swivel chair, hair like a spill of copper mercury under the daylight, her lab coat too large for her narrow frame, sleeves rolled to elbows.
Her workspace was a battlefield. Stacks of aged parchment crowded sleek holo-screens, beakers full of blue residue, a broken lens left on the edge of the desk as if it too were under study.
The clock ticked past twelve. She didn't notice. Fern's eyes, sharp as fresh-cut glass, traced the digital render of an ancient sigil, glowing gold against the hovering display.
Her fingers tapped idly on the desk.
"Tabbur.…" she murmured. "The last book before the Slumber."
Her voice had a thoughtful music, a choir that belonged to people who had spent too long talking to suffering.
In the far corner, the containment sphere pulsed holding within it fragments of charred paper. The remnants of Moses Tur's final writings before he fell into the
"Slumber" that half-divine, half-death trance.
Most scholars believed the Emperor had exhausted his body reaching the end of enlightenment.
Fern didn't buy it.
"He saw something." she said to herself, brushing a strand of hair aside. "Something beyond…. comprehension. The mechanism behind one?"
Her monitor flickered, displaying two sigils — one of the Ramsis Empire. The other the symbol of an erased organization; a serpent devouring its own crown.
"Acurus Tiama," she whispered. "The archivists of falsity."
According to the restricted archives, Acurus Tiama had once rewritten the timeline itself, burying truths beneath entire rewritten centuries, bending kingdoms to false memories. Yet no one had ever found them, not in the physical nor the astral record.
They had scattered like smoke, leaving behind scripture fragments that contradicted even divine canon.
Fern leaned back in her chair, lips curving slightly. "If they really did vanish into deep space, there must have been something they feared."
She opened a drawer, revealing a cracked black notebook. The edges shimmered with low mana burn. She flipped through it. A compilation of notes stolen from half a dozen archives and one forbidden library.
On one page was written,
"Moses Tur reached the Gate of Renewal, the point where gods lose their names."
Fern's smile deepened, mischievous now,
"So you saw it, didn't you, Emperor?" she murmured. "The other side of creation.… or perhaps the first lie."
A wind brushed through the lab, stirring the papers. It shouldn't have. They were underground. Fern didn't look up. She knew how thin the walls between realities could be when one stared too long into a truth that didn't want to be known.
Instead, she stretched, pushed her glasses up and whispered with an odd glimmer in her tone,
"Let's see how far the false gods story really goes."
Fern Jaswin walked through the whitewashed corridor of the Aldwyn Research Division. Her boots clicked softly against the marble floor.
The hall smelled faintly of lemon polish and old mana dust. She was reading something from her holo-pad, half-smiling at her own notes.
Then she heard footsteps behind, the unhurried, confident ones of a soldier who wasn't trying to hide.
"Dr. Jaswin," he let out a lazy voice. "You know, if you keep walking alone like that, someone might propose to you just for the view."
She sighed before turning. "Suja Anzayn," she muttered flatly. "Still wasting your reputation on bad jokes instead of battle drills?"
The tall man in a gray officer's coat grinned, his helmet tucked under one arm. "I am retired. Mostly. I came to check if my old school friend still remembers how to smile."
Fern turned fully, eyes narrowing, though a hint of recognition softened her voice. "You haven't changed a bit."
"No, I have aged beautifully." he said, flashing a grin. "But you.… you are still terrifying. You should marry, Fern. There's a whole city of poor fools who would happily risk their lives just for a dinner with you."
Before he could say another word, Fern's fist found his stomach without any hesitation. Suja bent over, laughing through the pain.
"Still hits like a mule." he wheezed. "I missed that."
"You have missed a lot more," she replied.
They ended up at a small tea stall under the shade of a fig tree near the research center. The tea stall owner knew them by face, handed them two steaming cups without a word. Suja poured extra sugar into his and stretched his legs.
"So." he began, "still six hundred years till retirement, eh?"
Fern smirked into her tea. "Maybe less if I find something divine enough to kill me first."
He chuckled, then leaned forward. "Tell me, what are you working on now? Still chasing dead gods?"
She paused, blowing on her tea. "You could say that. It's called Facecraft."
"Facecraft?" he echoed, raising a brow. "Sounds like a circus trick."
"It is…. not exactly far from that." Fern replied with a small grin. "It is a system where one individual inherit fragments, traits or powers from ancient or mythical figures of the past. Not by bloodline or absorbing, but through resonance."
Suja frowned thoughtfully. "Resonance? Like reincarnation?"
Fern looked up at the shifting leaves, sunlight dappling her face. "Something like that. Not the way priests describe it. See, the world itself runs in circles. We are not in the first age, Suja. We are in the second. The Second Cycle."
He laughed lightly, thinking she was joking. "You mean the whole 'creation and recreation' myth?"
She shook her head. "Not myth, ass-head. Data supports it. Fragments of linguistic decay, memory recalls in dreamers, historical overlap between impossible timelines. All point to one thing, that people walking around us right now…. lived once before, including you and me."
Suja blinked, his grin faltering. "You are serious."
Fern sipped her tea. "Always. The First Cycle was the original creation when the Overseers used to roam and rule the lands. When it ended, reality reset. The Second Cycle — our world, began. But the souls didn't vanish. They were renewed back."
"So we are all copies?" Suja said slowly.
"Not copies. Continuations," Fern corrected softly. "Same essence but a new script. You could be someone who fought in the first wars of dawn or someone who built the first bridge across the Sea of Silence. And you would never know."
He leaned back, trying to wrap his mind around it. "That is… a little too big for afternoon tea."
She smiled faintly. "Most truths are. Don't think I am telling you this just for time pass."
"So what's the point of Facecraft then?" he asked.
Fern's expression darkened slightly. "To find those connections. Some rare ones can awaken Faces of what they once were. Their powers, instincts, even emotions awake from before the Cycle turned. But it's risky. The more you remember, the less human you stay."
Suja stared at her, lips twitching. Then suddenly he grinned again. "So you are saying I could have been a god in my last life?"
Fern chuckled. "Or a street jester."
"Or both." he said proudly.
"Possible. You always had divine stupidity."
He laughed, raising his cup. "Longly, my dear, were probably a goddess of violence."
She pretended to think. "No. Maybe a librarian who killed gods for overdue books."
They both broke into laughter. Only old friends could share after centuries apart.
"Tell me something." Suja said between sips. "If we have all lived before.… do you think we will live again?"
Fern looked at him over the rim of her cup, her eyes remained without any expression . "If the Circle turns again, maybe. But I am not sure the world could handle a third cycle of us."
He laughed again, brushing dust off his coat. "Then here's to staying in this one as long as possible."
Fern smiled. "Only if you promise to stop proposing marriage to every woman you meet."
"No deal." he said instantly.
She sighed, shaking her head with mock despair. "Then go on the street and beg, Suja Anzayn. You are better at that than philosophy."
He saluted her with the tea cup, grinning like the same fool she remembered.
The afternoon had softened into gold as Fern and Suja left the stall.
Suja walked a few steps ahead, hands in his pockets, his voice drifted lazily, "You know, if the world really does turn again, I hope I at least get better hair next time."
Fern chuckled under her breath. "You would ruin eternity with your vanity."
He turned back to grin at her but for a brief moment. His smile was gone. His eyes flickered, gold leaking into the whites like molten metal.
From his skin seeped a thin mist. A black thread with gold, twisting like smoke that chanted with divinity.
Fern stopped, her expression tightening. "Suja….? Are you dumb? It is public."
He blinked and it was gone. Only the lazy grin remained. "What? Don't worry, no one can notice it."
She didn't answer. She simply watched as he walked ahead, humming an old tune from a world neither of them remembered.