Chronicles of Thothiya: The Buried Echoes

“So... it ends like this?” I murmured, staring at the card between my fingers.

“It’s just... terrible. What is the purpose of this, really?” I looked again at Nadine’s face, which seemed to be staring back at me. It felt incomplete, almost non-existent. Her story must mean something.

It has to. Nadine’s image still glimmered on the surface, edges crackling with faint sparks of gold, but its glow dimmed—swallowed by a creeping shadow that curled like smoke. I blinked, and the image warped. The card’s colors drained, bleeding into pure black.

“What...?” I whispered, clutching it tighter. It didn’t feel right. The air around me thickened, humming with a sound that wasn’t quite a sound—a resonance in my bones, a whisper at the edge of my mind.

The tale is just starting, Nabara... don’t think too much... open your eyes and mind... the tale is about to start...

The card pulsed once, then once more, like a heart beating its final rhythm. My fingers trembled as it rose from my palm, twisting slowly in the air.

I heard them again—the voices. The tale is just starting, Nabara... don’t think too much... open your eyes and mind... the tale is about to start...

Soft, broken whispers—impossible to understand yet painfully intimate—floated around me, like echoes of memories destined to be forgotten. Just like Nadine.

Faint bright-blue threads swirled out in the air, connecting themselves to the card. Thin and nearly invisible, they glimmered as they guided it like unseen hands back toward the wooden box on the table.

The box creaked open on its own. The threads slipped inside and the card sank into the velvet darkness. Everything went still. The whispers stopped. The air grew heavy, electric, as if waiting for its turn.

My hands steadied. “I should panic!” I thought, but the urge felt hollow.

I peered into the open box. Nothing showed but a block of darkness. The stillness almost made me cry. Something was not right. Something had happened.

It shouldn’t be that dark. I couldn’t help myself—I glanced toward the window. My mother was watching me, tense and anxious. I had never seen her this nervous. I was about to stand when she raised a hand to stop me and mouthed, Don’t leave. Stay till the end.

I nodded. She turned and walked away, but I caught a frightened look in her eyes before she disappeared inside. She moved quickly, leaving me feeling even more unsettled.

Then light burst from the box.

It was soft at first, a warm glow like morning sunlight seeping through a curtain. But it grew brighter, sharper, until I had to squint. Another card was rising from within, and my breath caught. It called her name. Loud and clear in my mind.

I reached for it with steady fingers, hesitating when the whispers returned, louder this time. They were no longer a hum but a chorus—urgent, inviting, and warning. I ignored the fear twisting in my chest and took it.

The surface was warm, almost burning, as if I held a fragment of the sun. The light poured from it, washing over the walls, swallowing every shadow. My breath stilled as shapes emerged within the brilliance: a door, a figure, a flash of something ancient and terrible.

Then a single name rang out, clear as a bell.

Camellia.

I gasped. The glow sharpened into an image, but this time it wasn’t Nadine staring back at me. It wasn’t anyone I recognized. This was new. Something alive, something that demanded to be told.

And who am I to deny it...?