Page 8 of Ruthless Kings of Vengeance
It’s as though I’ve been plunged into a vacuum, where even the faintest whisper of sound has been stripped away.
I blink, my eyes adjusting to the stark whiteness of the room. There are no walls, no ceiling, no floor—just an endless expanse of white that stretches in every direction.
The light is soft, almost ethereal, but it offers no warmth.
It’s sterile, cold, and utterly devoid of life.
I look down at myself. I’m dressed in white—a simple, flowing gown that brushes against my ankles. The fabric is soft, almost weightless, but it feels foreign against my skin.
My hands are pale, almost translucent as if the light is passing through them. I flex my fingers, watching the tendonsmove beneath the surface, but there’s no sensation. No warmth, no cold, no texture. Just… nothing.
Where am I?
The question echoes in my mind, but there’s no answer. No memory of how I got here, no recollection of what happened before. My thoughts feel fragmented, like shards of glass scattered across a table. I try to piece them together, but they slip through my fingers, elusive and intangible.
I take a step forward, or at least I think I do. There’s no sensation of movement, no shift in the air, no sound of my feet hitting the ground. It’s as though I’m floating, suspended in this endless void of white.
And then I see it.
A black bunny.
It’s small, its fur a stark contrast against the blinding whiteness of the room. Its eyes are red, glowing like twin embers in the darkness. It doesn’t move at first, just sits there, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin crawl.
I take a step closer, and this time, I feel it—the faintest brush of something against my mind, like a whisper I can’t quite hear. The bunny tilts its head, its ears twitching slightly, and then it hops toward me.
Each movement is deliberate, and calculated, as if it’s testing me, probing me.
I crouch down, my gown pooling around me as I reach out to pick it up. The moment my fingers touch its fur, a jolt of something—fear, recognition, memory— shoots through me.
It’s warm and alive, and yet there’s something unnatural about it.
Odd…maybe?
The bunny doesn’t struggle as I lift it into my arms.
It’s light, almost weightless, and its red eyes never leave mine. I stare into them, searching for answers, but all I see is myown reflection staring back at me—pale, wide-eyed, and utterly lost.
Who are you?
I want to ask, but the words don’t come. My throat feels tight and constricted as if the silence has stolen my voice along with everything else.
The bunny’s nose twitches, and for a moment, I think it’s going to speak.If that’s even possible in this place…But instead, it shifts in my arms, its warmth seeping into my skin, and I feel it again—that whisper in my mind, faint but insistent.
It’s trying to tell me something, but I can’t understand it. The harder I try to grasp it, the more it slips away, like smoke through my fingers.
I frown, frustration bubbling up inside me.
What is this? What does it mean…what is needed from me?
And then, as if in response, the bunny’s eyes flash, and I feel a sharp pain in my chest.
It’s brief, fleeting, but it’s enough to make me gasp.
My grip on the bunny tightens, and for a moment, I think I see something — a flash of memory, a fragment of a face, a name on the tip of my tongue.
But before I can hold onto it, it’s gone, leaving me with nothing but a hollow ache in my chest.
I look down at the bunny, my fingers trembling as I stroke its fur. It’s soft, almost comforting, but there’s an undercurrent of darkness in its aura, giving off a sense of danger.
