You catch the scent of book pages. “May the flowers in Alpani never wilt.” That's your mother reciting one of Adrian's fables to you. The Architects lifted their silver shields high to defend the land, crushing the sins of the flames of Antimatter.

But where have they gone? A flower blossoms deep in your brain, wherein you traverse the desolate city of Trodar, brave through the trenches in Sybilch, and climb the ruins of the war. In Alpani, they are in full bloom, nourished by forgetfulness.

You pick up a blood-stained medal and record a stranger's name. The perished warriors are engraved in stones, and their shattered armor is sent back to their faraway homeland by boat. Then, you move on tot he next world, following the footsteps of the Architects to uncover another legend.

You had a beautiful dream in which you and your friends raised your glasses under three suns, toasting to the great peace! The dome hovering in the sky envelops the planet, shielding it from intense light and heat. It is the masterpiece you designed, and you witness with your own eyes how it crumbles at daybreak.

Collapse, screams, bursts of gamma rays from he supernova. Your eyes, hands, and every single cell in your body wail in agony. The villains set the atmosphere on fire, reducing the tower that has stood for 290 Amber Eras to ashes. Deadly microbes are dancing on the ice crystals of Ring of Smya, and you vow to make them suffer tenfold.

You sketch the outline of the colossal ship that has ignited the galaxy. The bombs incinerate all viciousness under the night sky. Before everything you cherish turns to ruins, you inflict the necessary devastation upon the enemy.

With a single clap of your hands, skyscrapers spring forth, towering to shelter the world. In the blink of an eye, birds take flight amidst the winds, and flowers burst into bloom upon dead trees. You knead the beautiful dream in your palm, molding it like play dough as it starts to metamorphose effortlessly, until the waves of imagination crash upon the shore, and time halts, capturing the narrative in its most captivating frame. In this instant, startling dreams and memes are banished, while peace and tranquility hold their place forevermore. In this instant, the twelve hours shimmer in the night sky, while the vibrant festival illuminates the darkness with revelry that lasts till dawn.

You've created a world brimming with life, which prospers in joy and safeguards the smiles within people's dreams. The stars serenade, and a soft rainfall ensues. There you stand amidst the melody, without an umbrella, basking in the ethereal violet hue of the morning glow.

This is yet another tragic calamity. The vessel is torn apart, probably after encountering detestable pirates or bumping into a Swarm looking for food. Dead bodies are floating in the vacuum, like goldfish in the water. For some reason, you think of the eccentric Bretadens, who believe that souls belong to the land, and those who die in a vacuum will be forever lost.

You clean their bodies and stitch up their wounds, salvaging their last shred of dignity. The death of the unnamed is sprinkled into the sky. While their bodies begin their descent towards land, they burn in the atmosphere, transforming into shooting stars that carry wishes. For those with names, their departure starts from silence, yet the mourning is unceasing.

You are certain as to which category these bodies belong, but you wish you could hear the weeping.

Extrapolation Rewind

Extrapolation Rewind

Extrapolation Rewind