User:8bit BlackMage/Ex Nexo/Chapter 2

Cutscene

''I have always been here, in the darkness. Peripheral. Veiled. Alone. That is how it always shall be.''

''So whispers the abyss beyond my eyes. Insinuating that it has always been this way. The absence of color, the invalidity of sense. Of myself.''

''But I know there once was something more. A grace grafted to me in blood, a sight unseeing. The flow of the soul, the magic of the land. A few others had the ability, but I had the gift, so I was told. So I took that gift all the way to heaven and the grave.''

''That gift is gone. No magic springs to my fingers - do I still have fingers? Am I still...?''

This is not the heaven I dreamed of.

'' 'How many cycles has it been?' I asked myself every time, thinking I could still attain that future too brilliant to abandon. This cycle is different. Black. The color - Aura, I knew it as, too long ago. Gone. Perhaps this is not even a cycle, but simply the end. Perhaps this is my punishment - to live out eternity in the anesthesia of obscurity. In the dignity of silence, denied the reality of suffering.''

Perhaps this is what I wanted, after all?

...

''A sensation spreads across my forehead, washing away my thoughts in an instant. No color blooms behind my dead eyes, but the feeling is real nonetheless. And another, and another, until I recognize the rain. I remember I can move, and stretch out an arm to be cloaked in the cloudburst. I can hear, as well, that cadence of water dashing against rock. It is different, somehow. Distorted. But it is real enough for me.''

''I know now. This is not the world I envisioned. Always I have lived in worlds I sought to change. This is just one of those. I will find a way to transcend my failures in this cycle, the failures of this cycle. My dream was not empty, but full of memories. Memories the world cannot wash away.''

''I am fortunate, at least, to be in this place, where I can listen to the rain kiss the sea. It reminds me of home. Of those bygone august days.''

One day I will have them back.

The screen of black is replaced gradually with a perspective above a chain of tiny, rocky islands strewn near the shoreline like a string of pearls. On the largest stands a solitary figure clad in purple. She retracts her hand through the rain, pressing it to her chest. The networking of sun and clouds evoke the promise of a rainbow. As like a bird, the camera sweeps across the archipelago, skimming rapidly across the shoreline until it settles on a robot sifting through rubble.