Chapter 1: Emptied

In this vast desert of white sand, there is no one else but me, and a stone that can speak stays on top of my head.

Underneath is the smooth white sand, up to the sky is the same shade of white. No cloud, no sun, only gentle breezes, and an unidentified source of light shines through all this desert.

That stone is wobbling on my voluminous black hair, “So what are we going to do now? Do you know any interesting stories? Please tell me!”

“Something interesting, huh~”, I ponder those words, “If it has to be interesting, then I don't know, but to kill time, I will tell you this boring and unhappy story…

……

Sunrays projected through the window onto the books and notes that had long been covered by a blur and thin layer of dust. Seems like that desk was abandoned for a while.

On the left of that desk, at a not very long distance, was an average-sized bed, enough for a good sleep. The young lady lies there, still frowning; she does not want to open her eyes. Perhaps the dream that had ended not so long ago was really enticing; it made her want to fall back into sleep once more, and maybe by some mythical reasons, she would dream that dream again, not fade away into oblivion like those old dreams. But at the end, the light from the other side of the window, even though it was not shining on her face, still won her back from the slumber. Êyavia wakes up again like every other day, feels like her graduation ceremony just happened yesterday, in reality, it has been three months.

Like all mornings in the past three months, as her instinct told her so, she keeps waking up exactly at 7 o’clock 30 minutes A.M. Êyavia wakes up, brushes her teeth, cleans her face, and then goes downstairs for breakfast. Down the stairs were two dishes of food that were still warm, as if they were waiting silently for Êyavia there. Just as she sat down to begin eating, she realized something unusual: would her younger brother, Stalas, not normally wake up early and sit there waiting for her to come down and eat with him?

Thinking it, she chuckled to herself; surprisingly, her diligent brother could sometimes wake up later than she did. It was probably the new book or new painting that kept him up all night. She chuckled and thought, When he comes down, I’ll mimic that annoying greeting.

Unlike Êyavia, her younger brother Stalas, two years her junior, chose not to attend university but instead pursued his two passions: painting and writing. Stalas was always cheerful and optimistic; perhaps that is why his paintings always had a bright color palette, and the stories he wrote were inspired by pleasant memories or the dreams he imagined. Although Stalas's works were not top-tier, they provided him with enough money to indulge his passions freely and allowed him to save a considerable amount. Eyavia was both proud and envious of Stalas for this; she had many hobbies, but she could not pursue them as effectively as Stalas.

Perhaps that is why, in contrast to Stalas's optimistic outlook on life, Êyavia always felt lost about the future. Even after graduating, she did not know what she would do or where things would lead. Despite having many aspirations, realizing she was incapable of achieving them only further diminished her motivation. Even her chosen field of study was merely a random choice to pass the time. Sometimes she questioned her goals and plans, not about whether they were right or wrong, but whether they were real. It was strange that these things appeared in her mind, yet she wondered if they were real or not. The more she thought about them, the more listless she became, doubted if any of these belonged to her right now. So she did what she was best at: she imagined a different world in her mind, a world where she did not have to worry about the future, a world where she was free and without uncertainty. A world filled with dazzling wonders, unlike this dull and empty life.

This is a shared characteristic between Êyavia and Stalas. Both of them would sometimes stand or sit silently there, their bodies present, but their souls lost in daydreams. Êyavia could not remember exactly when it started, only vaguely feeling a warmth and familiarity whenever they shared these fanciful fantasies, a way to escape the absence of their parents in the house. Their parents were still alive, of course, but as they grew older, their parents became increasingly busy with work, and the time they had for them dwindled until only memories of the time they spent together remained. Êyavia and Stalas did not blame them, knowing their parents still cared for and supported them. The only problem was that in this increasingly quiet house, a feeling of loneliness sometimes overwhelmed them.

Only a heart-to-heart conversation between the two siblings could break the curse that enveloped this place. Each word of confession, each secret story, was like a tiny ray of light illuminating the house, and in Êyavia's eyes, Stalas was like a lighthouse in a sea of ​​fog. She had never seen optimism in her own life, so she chose to see the world through the eyes of Stalas, her beloved yet annoying younger brother.

Time silently passed, and Êyavia still had not touched her food, waiting for Stalas. The longer she waited, the more anxious she felt. Questions like, "Is he sick? Is he alright? He doesn't usually sleep this late?" constantly swirled in her head. Looking at the clock, which was almost nine o'clock, she could not help but call out Stalas's name, but there was still no answer. Êyavia felt increasingly uneasy, so she decided to go upstairs, knocking and calling, but the only response was silence. Her anxiety grew, and sensing something ominous, she decided to rush downstairs to find the spare key to unlock Stalas's room. With each step, her thoughts shifted between reassurance and worry; sometimes she wondered if Stalas was sick, other times she reassured herself that it was probably just a fever, and that a few days of rest and medicine would cure it.

When she returned to Stalas's room, she was still met with silence. She hurriedly unlocked the door and stepped inside. The familiar scene immediately struck her. In the bright painted room, the furniture was still arranged as before. In the corner near the window was a drawing board with a pristine white sheet of paper, still blank, beneath which lay paintbrushes, pencils, watercolors, and a variety of other tools neatly arranged. By the window was a desk with a laptop, next to which lay another stack of pristine white paper and neatly organized pens. The room, with its familiar objects, was now surprisingly tidy. Êyavia quickly looked towards the bed; Stalas was still lying there. His sleeping position was somewhat unusual, not at all like the contorted postures of someone who had moved during sleep, but rather lying flat on his back in the middle of the bed, his hands clasped together on his stomach. On the table beside him lay an empty glass of water and several different blister packs of pills, some opened, others half-opened. Êyavia rushed to the bedside, kneeling and shaking Stalas.

Then, suddenly, she stopped.

Her eyes were fixed on the seemingly asleep boy with an expression of disbelief.

The moment she touched her beloved brother, he was cold, and that is all. His chest no longer rose and fell as if he were breathing. Each second passed in silence.

......

"Is that really how this story starts?" The rock questioned curiously.

I just put out a small laugh, "That's just how I remember it. But the sparks of it had started long before this."

"So why don't you start your telling from there?"

"I just want some mysteries and frustrations, that's all."

"So what happened after that?" The rock rolled two rounds on my head. The rumbling vibrated on my skin.

"She will build this world up, accept it, live in it, and then it will shape her back. And from there she will destroy herself and this world, from the ashes, reborn anew." I put my gaze on the distance between the white sand and the blank sky. The little companion tried to look in my direction too, but it could not see anything.