Faerith stared at the glowing shard, purple, neon and alive. "What.... is this?" she hissed, recoiling, yet something in it dragged her closer. Against her better judgement, her fingers reached out and brushed the surface.
The air curdled. The field rippled like water struck by a stone.
Her hand flew to her temple as agony stabbed through her skull. The world twisted, lavender and rice spiraled into warped ribbons, the horizon bending as if reality itself were melting.
"Wh-what's happening?!"
The ground buckled beneath her feet. A sound like shattering glass split the air. Reality cracked, splitting apart like a fragile mirror.
Then the floor immediately vanished beneath her.
Faerith plunged, swallowed by a roaring abyss of darkness. Her scream tore from her lips as unseen winds hurled her downward, spinning her weightless through the void.
This isn't kidnapping.. This is something else. Something unreal..
Magic existed, yes—monsters existed—but this? This felt like a fever dream, a nightmare disguised as a world.
Where am I?!
The shard appeared again, drifting before her as she fell, pulsing with that same eerie purple glow.
Below its message, something new shimmered:
[Do you accept?]
{Yes or Nay?}
When did that show up?
Her mind raced—fear, anger, confusion swirling in a storm. Why choose anything? Why was she being forced to choose at all?
Before Faerith could think, the fall stopped. Something soft caught her, breaking her descent. She landed with a jolt, squinting through the darkness.
Where am I now?
A spark erupted—purple flame, flickering just enough to reveal her silhouette.
And that was when she realized—
She was naked. Completely bare.
Faerith gasped, arms crossing over her chest. "What? Where did my clothes—"
A voice interrupted—cold, feminine, and edged with a mocking chuckle.
"So this is the woman my creation has chosen to bless," it purred. "Blissful… indeed."
Faerith jolted upright, spinning in place. "Who said that?! Reveal yourself!"
"Brave," the voice murmured, amused. "I knew I chose the right child."
The flame vanished, plunging her into darkness—only to flare back to life.
And now Faerith wasn't alone.
Crouched inches away was a woman—barely clothed in scraps of cloth, her face half-covered, her body scarred and dirty.
Faerith scrambled back. "Fuck!" she shouted, heart pounding. "Wh-what are you?!"
The woman rose slowly, towering, her muscular build imposing. She advanced. Each step quickened.
Faerith held her hand out. "Stay back!"
The woman didn't listen.
Faerith spun, ready to run—
But the creature was suddenly in front of her, fingers clamped around her neck—not choking, but strong enough to pin her in place.
Faerith trembled as the woman leaned in and sniffed her like prey.
A grin split her face—rows of fanged teeth gleaming.
Then a long, split tongue slid out and dragged across Faerith's skin.
Disgust surged through her—but the creature only seemed delighted.
"Still a fresh mage," she murmured. "Delicious… you will make a fine oracle. Tell me, do you—"
Faerith punched her across the jaw.
The creature stumbled back, surprised—and Faerith bolted.
But the victory was fleeting.
The woman laughed, licking the bruise on her cheek. Red, writhing energy burst from her palm—tentacles whipping out and coiling around Faerith's ankle, yanking her upside down.
Faerith screamed, thrashing. "Let go of me, you monster! What do you want from me?!"
The woman sighed. "How disappointing. Even after my offer, you choose foolishness."
"I said unhand me!"
"You will be freed when you listen!" she roared.
Faerith froze, chest heaving, overwhelmed by the sudden fury. Fighting the tentacles proved useless.
"O-okay," she breathed. "I don't want trouble. I just want to go home… please."
The woman's smile widened. "Begging won't save you. Those who enter this abyss must bargain with their body… or be sealed here forever."
Bargain? With her body?
Faerith's voice trembled. "What are you talking about? Who are you?!"
The woman chuckled darkly. "To fools, I am demise. To the chosen… I am the Oracle. You may call me Ravessa."
Ravessa. The name slithered into Faerith's mind—mystical, menacing, ancient.
"Chosen?" Faerith whispered.
"Indeed," Ravessa grinned. "You were chosen to be an oracle—to wield astral power. A chance to become a mage."
The word ignited something inside Faerith—a dormant dream she'd buried long ago, sealed with her parents' passing.
"How do you know that?" she demanded. "Tell me!"
"I will tell you," Ravessa purred, "but you must accept."
"Accept what?"
The shard materialized again, glowing brighter.
[Do you accept?]
Ravessa's voice softened. "Your mother still wishes for you to follow the dreams you abandoned. I know… because I am the echo of your mind. I will shape you into the mage you longed to become."
Faerith hesitated—fear wrestling with longing.
"You said you wanted my body," she whispered. "Why should I trust you?"
"I do not need your trust," Ravessa replied. "Only your ambition. Accept, and you will rise. Become my successor. My oracle."
Magic. Real magic. A chance at everything she'd lost.
Faerith swallowed hard.
"…Alright. I accept."
Ravessa's grin widened into something feral. "Choices shape the future. Now go… rise in power."
—
Faerith jolted awake with a heavy gasp, drenched in sweat, chest heaving.
"Fuck!"
She was back in her bedroom. In her bed. The musty scent of home think in her nostrils.
But how did she get here? She didn't remember entering her home.
The memory of that cursed dwarf, landing her in that strange world and meeting that woman who called herself Ravessa—the abyss—the shard.
All this flickered like nothing but a dream. A mere nightmare.
She looked around, trying to look for any signs that explained what se had just witnessed.
Maybe the shard could be lying somewhere around here...
So she thought...
There was no shard. No purple flame. No sign of magic.
Maybe it was all a dream.
Maybe the attack, the shard, the abyss—Maybe none of it was real.
I must be seeing things.. maybe yesterday was all a dream after all.
Yes… that is… so…
Looking around her room, Faerith noticed something before her—something too wrong, too strange, too impossible to ignore.
A tea cup.
The same tea cup she had used yesterday before heading to work.
But it wasn't the sight of it that rattled her bones.
It was the way it hung in the air—levitating, gently swaying back and forth as though held by invisible fingers. A purple light circled it, an eerie aura humming with life.
What on earth is that?
The question scraped across her mind like a whisper from another realm.
Then something else snagged her attention—a glow, faint yet unmistakably bright, bleeding from beneath her sheets… from where her hand rested.
Faerith's breath caught. She slowly peeled the covers back, every motion careful, terrified, reverent—only to reveal the impossible.
Her hand was glowing.
A purple light seeped through her fingers, blooming like a slow, living fire—the very same light she saw in her dreams.
Could this be it? Could this be what I saw?
Her heartbeat thundered, a rising storm of fear and awe.
She lifted her hand, trembling—and the levitating tea cup obeyed her movement, drifting like a puppet on a string.
"Incredible…" she whispered, hardly believing her voice.
Then it emerged.
From the air, from nowhere, from some unseen crack in reality—a shard of purple glass materialized before her eyes. It pulsed, breathing with energy, like the heart of something ancient.
[Welcome New Oracle to the Astral System]
Faerith gasped.
A cold dread spilled through her chest, chilling her spine. She wanted to scream—terror clawed up her throat—but something deeper, stranger, softer held her. Curiosity. A pull. A calling.
She reached out and tapped the surface of the glass.
Power—raw, shivering power—rippled through her body, a current that made her whole being tremble.
Another shard appeared. Then another. Fragmented pieces of shining glass unfolded before her, each one displaying strange texts she could hardly comprehend.
-STATUS-
Name: Faerith Brewer Lv.001
Class:
Title: Common Esper
HP: 100
MP: 60
Energy Used: 0
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Stamina: 10
Knowledge: 10
Perception: 1
AP: 0
Faerith scanned the texts, her mind twisting through a labyrinth of ancient symbols that refused logic yet echoed with half-formed meaning. Her eyes glowed—violet, bright, stirred awake—and as she gazed, something shifted beside her.
A presence, a shadow and then a cloak of sensation forming in the air.
She turned sharply, looking around, but there was nobody.
But something had been there.
Something was still there.
Then—a sharp rap at the door shattered the spell.
Faerith jolted, her chest lurched.
The shimmerring glass shard splintered into smaller fragments before dissolving, fading like dying stars.
And she was left alone. Or so she hoped.
Faerith lunged for the closet wedged at the foot of her bed, fingers snatching garments as she pulled out clothing that were rather revealing, mostly on the thigh and waste area, that was her style since since she spent her time close to hot areas. As she dressed, a thought nagged at her— who knocks at this hour? Dawn's pale white light still clung to the windows.