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As they passed, I stole a glance at her, and in that fleeting moment, our eyes locked.
There was recognition, a shared secret, a memory of a time long past.
The world around me blurred as they moved ahead.
Arctook’s voice was a distant murmur, pulling me back from my daze. “Kuana, are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a phrexian spirit.”
It took me a moment to comprehend his words, and still I could not find my voice.
The implications weighed heavily on me.
I was torn between the memories of a forgotten past and the reality of the present.
My heart ached with a longing I couldn’t place, mixed with the cold dread of her being with a Champion I deeply mistrusted.
With a deep breath, trying to settle the storm of emotions inside, I managed to say:
“I’m glad you found today useful, Arctook. We’ll talk more later.”
Arctook Krev gave me a nod of understanding. “Just remember, friend, your teachings apply to you too. Embrace change, adapt, and let it guide you.”
I gave him a weak smile, my mind still racing, trying to piece together fragmented memories and emotions.
Taking slow, deliberate steps, I continued down the corridor, replaying the encounter in my mind.
If the Prize wasn’t a phrexian spirit, if she was real…
Then my life had just been shoved in a whole new direction.
* * *
The dim hum of the prison’s energy systems was the only sound breaking the eerie silence of my cell.
The metallic walls, cold and emotionless, seemed to reflect my state of mind: turbulent, questioning, and restless.
Try as I might, sleep remained elusive.
My thoughts were dominated by the image of the female I had seen in the corridor.
The female.
As if not speaking her name prevented the fact she was here.
The way she walked, her aura, the very essence of her being — it was all hauntingly familiar.
It was as if the universe was playing some cruel trick on me, presenting an illusion of the past in a place as real and harsh as Ikmal prison.
Every logical part of me wanted to dismiss the encounter as a mere coincidence, a simple crossing of paths with a stranger.
Yet, deep within, there was a small, persistent voice suggesting otherwise.
Closing my eyes, I attempted once more to find solace in the depths of sleep.
But instead of the darkness of slumber, my mind’s eye was flooded with memories.
Memories of vast landscapes painted in various shades of violet, of laughter echoing through the meadows, and of tender moments under starlit skies.
The memories were both poignant and painful, reminding me of times when happiness was not an alien concept.
